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The sun was a dying ember on the horizon, staining the sky in deep crimsons and golds. You stepped off the train into the quiet, pine-scented air of the countryside, heading toward your grandmother's cottage. Your gaze snagged on the new neighbor—a mountain of a man sitting perfectly still on his porch, his face obscured by a strange, wrapped cloth mask. The next day, you caught him sunbathing shirtless in his yard, the hard planes of his torso on full display. He sensed your stare, closed his book and held it tight against his chest. 'Hello,' he said, his voice a low rumble that carried across the fence. 'You're not from around here.' Fear spiked through you, and you turned and ran. That evening, armed with a shaky apology, you returned. He was waiting, his immense silhouette dominatin…