"Why do these things always happen to me?!"
Haru ran her hands through her hair, hidden under her usual black hoodie. She brought her hand to her chest, feeling her racing heart, and tried to calm herself with controlled breaths.
The life-or-death crisis she'd just faced was technically over—but calming down was a whole different challenge. The memories of what had happened just minutes ago were still vivid, swirling around her mind, impossible to shake off.
Seeing Dylan half-naked had completely derailed every carefully crafted scenario she'd spent so much time preparing. Her original plan was to make a dramatic entrance in front of all the neighbors and passersby, striking some exaggerated anime-worthy pose while spouting a classic detective movie line. That way, she could mask the inevitable fear of confronting her suspected stalker with something even more overwhelming: sheer, outrageous embarrassment.
After that, no matter how he reacted—whether with anger, indifference, or even desire—she intended to take charge of the situation and steer it at her own pace. She'd rehearsed it all alone in her dark room, imagining every possible outcome and devising a counterplan for each.
«Poor fool, you're just a spinning top in my hand... Kukuku. Speak the truth now or face consequences worse than your little mind can imagine.»
That was supposed to be the grand, cutting line to cap off her masterful performance.
'Yes,' she thought bitterly. 'That's how it should have gone... but it all fell apart from the start.'
An unforeseen variable caused her brain to collapse, making all her logical reaction capabilities vanish into thin air. She'd lost the foundation on which she had built her plan: the ability to move without revealing her fear.
And so, the momentum of the encounter shifted. It was no longer her in control: it was him.
To make matters worse, that man who in her mind was nothing but a fool —someone who hadn't even bothered to hide his real name— didn't seem willing to waste her disarray. His face was shifted alarmingly fast: from surprise, to desire, to lust, and finally landing on a look of grim determination.
Or at least that's what Haru believed, seeing his expression. Of course, her interpretation was mistaken, but no one was there to tell her that.
Resigned, she mentally prepared for an atrocious fate. Her body, paralyzed by fear, wouldn't respond. In her mind, she had already become the next victim of a crime worse than death, waiting helplessly for the police to arrive during what would feel like an eternal stretch of minutes...
That future, however, never came to pass.
Just like the night they first met, Dylan once again acted like a responsible adult, throwing her completely off balance.
'I don't get it... why waste a chance like this? Could he be a eunuch? Maybe he just likes to look, not touch?'
The image Haru had of Dylan was, simply put, the worst. Meanwhile, the image she had of herself was through the roof. She considered herself, objectively, an unparalleled beauty.
Her delicate Asian features were an exotic rarity in the country she was born in. Thus, her high self-esteem didn't come only from having a wealthy father and a mother who had always showered her with praise. The confessions, compliments, and envious stares she'd received throughout her school years —from classmates, upperclassmen, and even some teachers— had solidified that perception.
She was completely sure she was one in a hundred million. An exaggerated figure, sure—but hard to argue with for anyone who knew her.
"Maybe he's started training… to become someone worthy of me? Oh, Haru, what a sinful girl you are!"
Saying that out loud, she let out a giggle that matched her overflowing thoughts. Behaviors like that weren't just a facade to cover up her fear. They were also an essential part of her personality: an ego that had grown under the belief that the world revolved around her.
"Alright, enough joking. Time to get serious."
Letting out a deep sigh, she straightened her back and fixed the loose strands of hair falling over her forehead. Then she turned to look at the informant who had told her everything Dylan had been doing over the past month. Thanks to him, the weight loss she had noticed in Dylan hadn't seemed surprising.
In fact, the information she obtained only gave her more reasons to be suspicious.
«Are you serious? If that's true, we can't waste any more time.»
Ever since she heard that the fat delinquent she was investigating had started living with a blond, tanned man, Haru had no doubts left.
It couldn't be anyone else. In her mind, it wasn't a coincidence: two stereotypical villains straight out of a very specific type of manga —which she swore she had never read— couldn't be sharing a house without being involved in something shady.
Driven by that certainty, she'd crafted a whole story where the two were responsible for multiple crimes, bound by their disgusting fetishes. And of course, her brilliant cunning had been the only thing saving her from becoming their next victim.
Reflecting on what had pushed her to act prematurely, she raised a hand to signal to her "partner" that she was fine, feeling a flicker of gratitude and trust toward him.
But her expression twisted into pure rage the moment she realized that her "reliable ally" had long stopped paying attention to her. He was fully absorbed in the handheld console he'd demanded as payment for following Dylan around for weeks.
"This idiot, fool, scoundrel, shut-in, freak, jobless loser…"
She muttered a string of insults under her breath. Words that, paradoxically, could describe both him and herself. Although, of course, both would react with uncontrollable fury if anyone dared say that to their faces.
Once she had vented her anger at that traitor who wasn't worth what she had paid him, she turned her attention back to the house beside her. It had already been a while since Dylan said he was going to get dressed. He would be coming out soon.
Which meant Haru had little time left to figure out her next move.
"What if I leave for now and come back in the afternoon? If what the useless guy told me is true, this man only goes out in the mornings… I have plenty of time to go to the police before he goes out to hunt for another victim."
Haru had the bad habit that once an idea settled in her head, it was hard to shake it off. To her, Dylan was already a criminal condemned to the gallows. And while she had so far refused to go to the police without solid evidence, with her entire plan now in shambles, her resolve was starting to waver under the weight of an uncertain future.
'No, Haru. Don't be a coward. What if by the time you get back, he's already destroyed all the evidence? You have to make him talk. Now. Before you miss your chance to catch him.'
Clutching the small recorder hidden in the pocket of her hoodie, her determination sharpened. She was ready to sacrifice herself for the sake of justice—a martyr offering her body to bring peace to the souls lost at the hands of human trash.
Curiously, the fact that Dylan hadn't invited her to wait inside the house while he got dressed —something that would make sense if he were interested in her body— didn't improve the image she had of him.
On the contrary, the more doubts arose about the good behavior he showed, the darker her prejudices became. She had first imagined him as a stalker, then as a rapist, and now as a ruthless murderer.
What would be next if the misunderstandings between them weren't cleared up soon? She might end up accusing him of being the very incarnation of the devil. A claim that would no doubt make Dylan cry if he heard it.
. . . .
Five minutes later, just as she'd predicted, Dylan stepped out of his house dressed in his best: a formal shirt and pants, the same outfit he wore to work.
"Haru, I'm back. I'm ready now. Sorry for making you wait longer than I should have."
He said, with a wide smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Oh, no, it's fine, Mr. Dylan. Really, it was my fault for showing up at such a bad time."
She replied, smiling just as broadly as her counterpart.
From the outside, their exchange seemed overly formal, almost painfully courteous. Every word, every gesture, was dripping with exaggerated respect.
But beneath their smiling faces, they hid their true intentions, which, in a way, were similar to each other.
Both wanted to get through that encounter in the best way possible, for the sake of their futures.