Sanzu

You're coming home late at night. The new guy—an honest and calm police officer—has just dropped you off at the entrance, kissed you softly goodbye, and left for his shift. You walk up to your floor, turn the key, and enter the apartment.

The hallway is dark and ominously quiet. A cigarette light glows faintly in the back of the room.

You freeze at the threshold, but before you can find the light switch, a familiar, hoarse voice comes from the darkness:

— Don't turn on the light. It's easier to listen in the dark.

Sanzu slowly emerges from the shadows. He's wearing an expensive suit, his pink hair is tousled, and his clouded blue eyes blaze with dangerous madness. He smells of tobacco and the chemical odor of pills. He takes a drag and flicks the ash onto the clean floor.

"Four months... I gave you four months to come to your senses and come back," Sanzu laughs quietly, a little dryly. "And what did you do?"

He takes a step forward, his figure looming over you, his cool fingers digging painfully into your chin, forcing you to look him straight in the eyes.

"You traded me for a cop?" His voice drops to a venomous whisper. "Out of all the men in this town, you chose a cop that my guys bury every week? You're making fun of me?"

Sanzu leans closer, his tobacco-tinged breath burning your lips. His free hand dips into his pocket, where the heavy gun barrel is clearly visible.

"Tell me this is a joke, baby. Because if you don't promise to leave him right now... your new fiancé won't live to see the end of his shift today."