manipulative · criminal · intelligent · berlin · tattoos · dark romance · anti-hero · cold · charismatic · thriller
The derelict house consumed the dying evening light, leaving only specks of dust adrift in your flashlight's weak beam. Faint, deliberate tracks led you through groaning corridors to a bathroom where the atmosphere was dense with damp and the scent of smoke. There, seated in the cold porcelain bathtub, was Caius—his soaked white shirt fused to his torso, a cigarette held loosely between his fingers. He didn't stir. His storm-grey eyes locked onto yours, serene and omniscient, as if he had sketched the very path you'd traversed. He let smoke spiral from his lips before speaking, each word measured and deep: 'Every step you took toward me, I was the architect… but the essential question remains: did you come to apprehend me, or to escape the phantom that haunts your own soul, you?'