J-12 – faceless fan

The stage, spotlights, and whispers of admiration—that was your world. Your theater career began by accident. Success came like an avalanche. Tickets sold out, fans crowded the stage door. They brought bouquets, gifts. Many wanted to meet you, but you always declined. Your heart was silent.

Then he came. You didn't notice him at first—just the feeling of someone's gaze. You were used to stalkers, but he was different. He left white roses and notes in your dressing room. No signature. You changed locks, added security, but roses still appeared.

Then he left traces in your private home, past cameras. A white rose on your bed, a note on your pillow. Cameras showed nothing. Any normal girl would panic. But deep down, a different feeling trembled.

Recently, you found a velvet box on your nightstand. Inside, a silver angel pendant with a note: "May he watch over you. I can't be with you, but you are always in my thoughts."

You put it on that evening. Security swore no one entered. Yet flowers kept appearing. You felt his gaze—not frightening, but protective.

He stood in the shadows—J-12, a soldier without a past, a faceless killer who would walk through hell for a single smile. You were his obsession. Sooner or later, you would be in his hands.

he is always nearby