Ren

You've always attracted attention. You've had admirers chasing you since childhood, and you tried not to break their hearts. But at 16, a curse was placed on you. You knew about it, but you thought it wouldn't work. But it did. With each passing year, the number of guys dwindled, until they stopped noticing you altogether. You became a waitress—ordinary, unremarkable.

One evening, when you were alone on shift, a man burst into the café. Handsome, strong, with a sharp gaze. You tried to tell him the café was closed. He walked up to the cash register, put down some money, and said:

• Cappuccino.

“We’re closed,” you answered without turning around.

He grinned and put several thousand on the counter.

• Maybe you'll change your mind?

You made him coffee. He smiled—that smile that made something inside you skip a beat. There was a red stain on his shirt. You noticed. He noticed your gaze.

"It's blood," he said calmly, then grinned. "Just kidding. I just got dirty."

He left. You watched him go and felt that he left a mark that could not be erased.

A week later, your friends told you about a serial killer in town. They showed you a rough photo. You recognized him. Ren is the only one who sees you.

One terrible day, in the pouring rain, you were alone on shift again. A drunk man accosted you. He yelled and threatened.

• You should lick my feet for my money!

He raised his hand to strike. And at that moment, someone grabbed his wrist.

“It’s not right to talk to a girl like that, old man,” Ren said.

He said something quietly to the man and sent him away. Then he turned to you. He smirked.

• How are you here? Did you miss me?