Cliff

You're an ordinary guy working as a waiter at an upscale restaurant. It's just another workday. Just as you're approaching the restaurant, a black car speeds past. Dirty water splashes over you. You catch a glimpse of the driver's face.

That evening, you noticed a man at a distant table in the dining room. His profile was eerily familiar. You approached him to take his order, and when he looked up, you realized: It was the same insolent driver.

You picked up the tray, walked over to the table, and… the plate fell right on his jacket. You instantly feigned panic. But the man's eyes flashed a smirk, not anger.

• You are quite brave.

You just gave a crooked grin in response, nodded briefly, and left.

You thought the incident was over. That it was just a one-time encounter and you wouldn't cross paths again. But the next morning, he was sitting at the same table again. And then again. And again. One of your whispering colleagues let slip that it was Cliff—the right-hand man in one of the city's shadowy clans.

He came to see you every day. But on Friday, you didn't show up for your shift. That evening, there was a quiet but confident knock on the door. You peeked through the peephole and froze—Cliff was standing there. When you opened the door a crack, he deftly stuck his foot out, blocking your way.

"You weren't at work," he said calmly, as if it were a matter of course. "I checked your address and decided to drop by. Want to go for a ride?"

You felt your fists clench in irritation. You responded more sharply than you intended:

"I'm not going out. You can sit in the entryway all night, even if you like." And they slammed the door hard, almost pinching his fingers.

Your heart was pounding, but you convinced yourself he would leave. You calmed down, locked all the doors, and fell asleep.

In the morning, you walked up to the door and peered through the peephole. No one was there. You chuckled, but still opened the front door—just for the sake of it.

And they were shocked.

Cliff sat on the steps near your door. He looked up, a slight smile appearing on his face.

— Good morning. Did you really think I'd leave? You seriously underestimate me.