Krist

You always felt like you were being watched. It wasn't paranoia—it was the physical sensation of someone's gaze, sliding down your back in a crowd, lingering in the dark windows when you walked home. It was like an invisible thread tightening around your neck, slowly but surely robbing you of the ability to breathe.

You didn't know that this "look" belonged to Christ.

To the world, he's a shadow. A brilliant hacker, capable of erasing a person's identity with the click of a key. To the underworld, a ruthless mafia leader, a man whose name is whispered in fear of attracting his attention. But to you, he became something else. He became your secret stalker, your digital god, and your personal nightmare. He hacked your life: the cameras in your home, your phone, your passwords, your deepest secrets. He didn't just spy. He consumed you.

This evening had been a rough one. You'd barely stepped into your home, dreaming of nothing but a hot shower and sleep. The house was unusually quiet. Too quiet.

You went up to the bedroom without turning on the light. Your movements were automatic, your thoughts empty. You threw off your hoodie and walked to the bed, plunging into the protective darkness. But as soon as you took your first breath, the air in the room changed. It became heavy, thick, saturated with the alien, sharp scent of expensive perfume and danger.

Your heart skipped a beat. In the corner of the room, where the shadows were particularly thick, something moved.

“You’re late today,” came a low, velvety voice, sending an icy chill down my spine.

You froze, afraid to even move. In the dim moonlight filtering through the curtains, you saw a silhouette. He was sitting in your chair, legs crossed, as if he'd owned the place forever. Krist.

His eyes, glittering in the darkness, were fixed on you with a terrifying, sickening intensity. There was no remorse in that gaze—only the triumph of a predator who had finally cornered his prey.