CHAPTER 1

Natt’s life was, by all accounts, exceedingly ordinary. He woke up to the creaking of his secondhand wooden floors, brewed his morning coffee, and arranged the day’s deliveries at his small, cozy bookstore tucked between a noodle shop and a flower stall in downtown Bangkok. To anyone who passed by, he looked like the embodiment of tranquility—soft-spoken, gentle, and completely devoted to the scent of inked pages and the subtle rustling of turning pages.

It was precisely this ordinary life that Natt cherished. But ordinary has a way of being disrupted in the most unexpected ways.

The disruption arrived one humid evening in the form of moving trucks. The hum of engines and the clatter of furniture being dragged across the pavement pierced the familiar lull of Natt’s neighborhood. He watched from his window as the trucks emptied a carefully wrapped set of furniture into the apartment next door.

He didn’t notice the man until later.

The first time Natt saw him, Kiro was standing by the door, silent, watching the movers with an intensity that made Natt instinctively step back. The man was tall and broad-shouldered, yet moved with a grace that seemed almost too deliberate, too precise. His hair, dark and immaculately trimmed, framed a face that was both angular and unreadable. Natt blinked and looked away, telling himself he must be imagining things. After all, who would notice a stranger in Bangkok?

Night fell, and the ordinary hum of the city was replaced by the faint patter of rain on the tiled roofs. Natt was tidying up his shop when the first strange sound reached his ears—a rhythmic, metallic click, almost like someone was adjusting a series of locks, punctuated by heavy footsteps above his apartment.

He froze.

“Probably just someone moving furniture,” he muttered to himself, though his pulse refused to slow. He pressed his ear against the wall, listening as the sound grew closer. The click… and then a sudden thud.

His imagination ran wild. A burglar? A serial killer? A spy? The thoughts were ridiculous, and yet he couldn’t shake the unease.

The next day, Natt’s curiosity—or perhaps his anxiety—got the better of him. He ventured outside, just as the man, Kiro, stepped out of his apartment building. They collided at the corner of the street, coffee in hand, and Natt nearly dropped his cup.

“Sorry,” Natt stammered, stepping back.

Kiro’s gaze met his, sharp and assessing, and for a moment, Natt felt exposed under the intensity of those dark eyes.

“It’s… fine,” Kiro said, his voice low, calm, but carrying an undercurrent that made Natt’s stomach flip.

They exchanged polite nods before Natt scurried to the safety of his bookstore, heart racing. Something about this neighbor was… off. Too perfect, too controlled, and yet something in the way he moved, like he was always ready for something, unsettled him.

A few days later, Natt’s routine was interrupted more directly. He had stepped out to buy groceries when he noticed a commotion at the street market—a street vendor arguing with a delivery driver. Natt hesitated, unsure whether to intervene. Then, without warning, a crate toppled toward him.

Time slowed.

And then, like a scene from a movie he had never agreed to be part of, Kiro was there. One step, one motion, and he lifted the crate with impossible strength, pivoted, and set it aside with a precision that left Natt blinking in shock.

“You okay?” Kiro’s voice was calm, unshaken, as if deflecting the chaos of the moment were an ordinary morning task.

“I… I think so,” Natt said, his voice a mixture of awe and terror. “How… how did you—?”

Kiro’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Be more careful.”

And with that, he was gone, disappearing into the crowd as silently as he had arrived.

From that moment, Natt’s curiosity became suspicion. Who exactly was his neighbor? Why did every movement Kiro made seem calculated, precise, almost… inhuman? And why, when he returned to the incident site, did no one else seem to have noticed?

That night, Natt sat at his window, a notebook in hand, jotting down observations. The clicks came again, louder this time, followed by the sound of metal dragging across the floor. He held his breath, heart thumping, and then the unmistakable thud of someone landing on the floor below.

Natt shivered. He should leave it alone, he told himself. Stay out of it. But curiosity, as always, was stronger than caution.

It wasn’t until later that week that the full scope of Kiro’s… abilities revealed themselves. Natt was closing his shop when a masked figure lunged from the shadows, brandishing a knife. Natt froze, paralyzed by fear.

“Hey!” Kiro’s voice cut through the night like a whip.

Before Natt could comprehend, Kiro was there. He moved with terrifying speed, dodging the assailant’s strike, disarming him in a single, fluid motion. The knife clattered across the pavement. The man stumbled back, wide-eyed, but Kiro didn’t pause. He delivered a precise strike to disable the attacker, leaving him groaning on the ground.

Natt’s jaw dropped.

“You… you’re like…” Natt couldn’t finish the sentence, words failing him.

“Dangerous?” Kiro said, his tone flat, almost bored, as if this was the most ordinary thing in the world.

Natt wanted to laugh, but fear rooted him to the spot. “What… what are you?”

Kiro said nothing, only glancing at him with a faint frown. Then he walked away, disappearing down the alley with the same effortless grace that had always unnerved Natt.

For the next several days, Natt couldn’t focus. Every time he turned a page in his bookstore, he imagined Kiro moving silently through the city, ready to strike. Every street corner seemed like a potential ambush. He was a man obsessed. And it was only natural that he began to notice… the little things.

The way Kiro never tripped on the uneven pavement.
The way he could leap a fence like it was nothing.
The way his gaze seemed to penetrate shadows, as if nothing could hide from him.

And yet… something in Natt’s chest fluttered. It was fear, yes, but also something stranger, warmer, more dangerous.

Then came the night that changed everything.

Natt was closing up when he heard it—a faint rustling behind the bookstore. He turned to see a masked figure creeping toward the back door. His instincts screamed at him to run, but his legs refused to obey.

“Hey!” he yelled, voice cracking.

The figure froze, and then a blur of movement appeared. Kiro was there in an instant, taking down the intruder with a precision and strength that defied human limits.

Natt watched, frozen in awe, as Kiro disarmed the man effortlessly, twisting the weapon from his hands and tossing it aside.

But just as Natt thought it was over, the intruder pulled a second weapon from his jacket—this one aimed directly at Natt.

Time slowed. Natt’s heart thudded painfully. His mind raced, trying to remember all the self-defense lessons he’d read about in the bookstore’s old manuals. But nothing seemed adequate.

Kiro’s voice was calm, but firm, cutting through the tension: “Stay still.”

The intruder’s finger tightened on the trigger. Natt’s breath caught in his throat.

And then, just before the trigger could be pulled, everything went silent except for the sound of Natt’s own heartbeat.

He realized, with a jolt, that he had no idea what would happen next.

Kiro’s dark eyes met his, unblinking, assessing. And Natt, trembling, could only manage one thought:

I have no idea who I just moved next to—but I’m already in way over my head.

The intruder points his gun at Natt, a shadowed grin on his face.

Natt’s fingers tensed, ready to scream, to run, to do anything—and Kiro simply stands behind him, the calm eye in the storm, unshaken, unmovable.

The quiet bookstore owner realized, for the first time, that his life had just become anything but ordinary.