Leo checked under parked cars, behind trash bins, near the small community garden—everywhere Shadow might’ve limped to.

Johan climbed up a low wall to get a better view of the streets, while Liam kept whistling softly, hoping the dog would respond.

But after almost an hour of searching, the sky had already turned a deep violet. Streetlights flickered on one by one.

Leo exhaled shakily.

“We’ve searched everywhere…”

His voice cracked a little, exhaustion pulling at the edges.

“It’s okay. He’ll come back,” 

Johan said, trying to sound confident even though he looked just as tired.

“Maybe he… found his real owner,”

 Leo muttered, staring at the pavement. The words tasted sour coming out. He didn’t want that to be true—but he couldn’t shake the thought.

Liam checked the time.

“It’s getting dark. We need to head back. Your mom’s going to worry.”

Leo nodded slowly.

“Yeah… thanks, guys. For helping.”

“It was not a big deal,”

 Liam said with a small smile.

 “We’ll see you tomorrow at school.”

“Yeah… bye.”

They waved and headed in different directions.

And then Leo was alone.

The silence of the night pressed around him, heavy and cold. The streets looked different without the boys beside him—emptier, lonelier.

He reached for his phone immediately, thumb hovering over the screen for a moment before he typed:

He waited.

And waited.

But no reply came.

Leo’s shoulders sank.

He slipped his phone into his pocket and started walking home, each step slower than the last.

______

A few weeks passed, and life settled into a strange new normal.

Leo still checked the streets sometimes, still glanced at the door whenever he heard a soft noise—but eventually, he learned to quiet the ache.

Shadow’s probably safe… wherever he is, he told himself, over and over, until it felt almost true.

On a quiet Saturday afternoon, his phone buzzed with a message.

Leo smiled.

By the time the boys reached his building, their arms were full of soda cans, chips, and an unnecessary amount of candy. They took the elevator to Leo’s floor, joking and pushing each other around like always.

But as the doors slid open…

A man in a dark hoodie stepped out from the hallway—specifically from the room right next to Leo’s apartment. His hood was low, covering most of his face, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

Johan blinked.

“I never noticed Leo had a neighbor?”

“Neither did I,” 

Liam murmured, eyes narrowing a little.

Johan tilted his head.

“Should we say hello?”

“Not a chance.”

“Why not?”

“He’s just… weird.”

The hooded man didn’t spare them a single glance. He walked past with an air of cold indifference, movements smooth, almost too controlled—like someone who didn’t want to be noticed but ended up even more suspicious because of it.

“Tch…” 

Rowan muttered under his breath, brushing past them as if they were nothing more than furniture.

He stepped into the elevator and hit the button without hesitation.

Johan watched the doors close.

 “Wow… what an attitude.”

“Told you he’s weird,” 

Liam said, tugging Johan’s sleeve and pushing him toward Leo’s door. 

“Come on, we’re not trying to get murdered.”

Johan unlocked his shoes as soon as Leo opened the door for them.

“You will not believe the neighbor you have,”

 Johan announced dramatically, dropping a bag of chips on the couch.

Liam followed behind, shaking his head.

 “You just can't keep quiet....”

Leo blinked.

 “Neighbor? I didn’t know anyone moved in.”

“He didn’t exactly scream friendly,”

 Johan said, flopping onto the couch.

 “More like I’ll kill you if you look at me twice.”

Liam nodded. 

“Yeah, he gave major ‘don’t talk to me’ energy.”

Leo rolled his eyes. 

“You two judge people too fast.”

“No, no, Leo—this one was different,” 

Johan insisted, sitting up straighter. 

“Like… he had this aura. A dangerous one.”

Leo raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. 

“You’ve been watching too many dramas.”

Johan opened his mouth to protest—but Liam cut in first.

“Actually, he did look suspicious,” 

Liam said. 

“Tall, hood pulled low, didn’t look up at anyone. And the way he moved… it was weirdly quiet.”

Leo snorted.

 “Wow. Maybe he’s just introverted?”

“No introvert walks like that,”

 Johan argued. 

“He didn’t even breathe loudly. It was creepy.”

“Well,” 

Leo sighed, placing drinks on the table, 

“as long as he doesn’t bother us, it’s fine.”

But even he couldn’t ignore the strange prickling in the back of his mind.

A tiny, fleeting thought:

He never heard anyone moving furniture.

Never heard footsteps in the hallway.

Never heard a door close.

Johan cracked open a soda. 

“Anyway! Forget the creepy neighbor. Put on the movie.”

Liam threw a pillow at him. 

“You put it on. Leo’s the host.”

Leo shook off the lingering unease and grabbed the remote.

“Fine. But no horror movies,” 

he said.

“Horror it is!” 

Johan cheered.

“NO.”

Their bickering filled the room, pushing away the silence as they settled in for their usual chaos-filled hangout. Snacks piled up, arguments over movie choices erupted, and Leo found himself laughing like nothing was out of place.

_______

As soon as Rowan stepped out of the building, the cool air hit him.

He pulled his hood lower, jaw clenched.

Good. He didn’t need attention from Leo’s loud, clueless friends.

But the brief encounter lingered in his mind longer than it should have.

 Rowan thought, his steps echoing as he crossed the street.

He scoffed under his breath.

A few minutes later, the neon glow of a tall, glass-front luxury bar came into view—one of those places where businessmen, heirs, and people with polished shoes pretended to be superior.

Rowan pushed the door open, slipping inside.

Warm lights. Soft jazz. Perfume. Fake laughter.

The usual.

He took off his hood as he walked toward the counter, his expression settling into something blank and intimidating—his default mask when working.

“Welcome,” 

the bartender greeted politely, eyes flicking up in faint surprise. Rowan had that effect on people.

Rowan ignored the reaction.

He slid into a seat at the bar counter, elbows resting lightly on the polished surface.

“Whiskey,” 

Rowan said quietly. 

The bartender nodded.

Rowan’s eyes scanned the room—calculating, cold.

The next revenge target was somewhere in this building.