The morning air had that too-crisp feeling that made my skin prickle. Or maybe it was just me.

  Maybe it was the message.

  STAY OUT OF IT.

  THIS ISN’T YOUR PROBLEM.

  I’d managed to sleep off most of the garlic and paranoia, but the moment I stepped outside, it all came flooding back. Every person I passed felt suspicious. Every parked car was potentially housing a shadowy figure watching me. Every time my phone vibrated, I flinched like someone had goosed me with a cattle prod.

  Relax, dude.

  I pulled my jacket tighter, trying to shake the feeling. It was just a text. A creepy, ominous, definitely not-normal text, but still—a text. Nothing had actually happened.

  ...Yet.

  I kept checking behind me as I walked to work, fully expecting some trench-coated agent to start tailing me. Instead, the only person behind me was an elderly woman powerwalking with a tiny dog in a sweater that said “Security.”

  Right. Because my life is an actual spy thriller.

  I exhaled, shaking my head at myself. I was being ridiculous. This was just stress. Probably.

  I pulled out my phone, staring at the screen as if I could will the text to explain itself. But before I could start overanalyzing it for the fiftieth time—

  I nearly walked straight into someone… a very familiar someone.

  She had her back turned, facing the window of a small café, her red hair catching the morning light in a way that practically weaponized it. She wasn’t doing anything in particular—just standing there, looking casual, like she wasn’t waiting for me.

  Which, obviously, meant she was absolutely waiting for me.

  As I stepped closer, the world around her shifted—like someone had twisted the color settings on reality.

  The storefronts behind her seemed sharper, too bright. The smell of roasting coffee and fresh bread hit me all at once, way too strong. I caught a whiff of vanilla, or maybe it was cinnamon—and then it was gone, fading like a dream the second you tried to hold onto it.

  It was like her presence amplified everything. Heightened it. Intensified it.

  And yet... I could feel the wave crash over me and pass by, like standing just outside a rainstorm, misted but untouched. I blinked rapidly, clearing the fog in my brain.

  Normal people probably got dragged under. I got wet, shook my head, and kept walking.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  I hesitated. The smart move was to keep walking. But survival instincts and I had never been on speaking terms.

  “Hey,” I said, shoving my hands into my pockets.

  She turned slowly, her expression perfectly surprised.

  I hesitated again. Launching into a full-blown rant without even knowing her name seemed... unwise. I cleared my throat. “Uh—sorry, I just realized I don’t actually know your name.”

  Her lips twitched, like she found that deeply amusing.

  “Lily,” she said smoothly. “And you’re Daniel... Danny.”

  I blinked. “Right. Yeah. That’s me.” (Wait, did I even tell her my name last time?)

  She tilted her head, studying me like I was a curious museum exhibit. “You didn’t think to ask last time?”

  I shrugged, instantly regretting it. “I was... a little preoccupied with telling you to go away and eat by yourself. Something I regretted later, but I was just wrapping up a tough day and would’ve made for poor company...”

  I realized I was rambling. Classic.

  Lily laughed—genuine, delighted, like someone who didn't get to be surprised often. “And yet, here you are, talking to me.” She tilted her head again, the light catching her hair like it was spun copper. “But you look... tense. Again.”

  I hesitated, caught between denying everything and spilling my guts. But she didn’t press—just waited. Her eyes were warm, her expression open. There was a dangerous comfort in that, like a velvet trap.

  Before I could stop myself, the words came spilling out.

  “Someone sent me this insane text last night,” I blurted. “Like, full-on mystery thriller levels of vague. Just ‘Stay out of it, this isn’t your problem.’” I rubbed the back of my neck. “And honestly? I have no idea what I’m supposed to stay out of.”

  Lily hummed sympathetically, nodding like this was just another Thursday. “Sounds like you’ve had quite the week.”

  “You have no idea.”

  And then I just... kept talking.

  I told her about Euryale (because nothing impresses a maybe-stalker like mentioning other women) and how people froze around her. About Elly being weirdly cagey at the bar. About how everything lately felt just a little off—like a radio tuned half a station out of phase.

  Through it all, Lily just listened. Never interrupting. Just giving these little nods, these perfect pauses.

  Every so often, she brushed her hand lightly against my arm or shoulder, and every time, the colors around us seemed to flicker, sharpen—like adjusting a lens. The world looked too clear, too alive for a second.

  And yet... every time the sensation tried to pull me under, it slid off me like rain on waxed glass.

  I frowned, half-aware of the oddness, but too grateful to finally be heard to think too hard about it.

  “I mean, what does that even mean?” I huffed, rubbing my forehead. “Stay out of what? I work in tech support. I don’t have things to stay out of.”

  Lily laughed—soft, sweet, and just this side of dangerous.

  “Well,” she said, voice dropping into something almost sultry, “maybe you should talk about it somewhere... quieter.”

  She stepped closer, head tilted, her scent wrapping around me like a warm breeze after rain. “I know a place. Just the two of us. Somewhere more... private.”

  For the briefest moment, my brain caught up to what she was really suggesting. And then—

  “Oh, nah, I gotta get to work,” I said brightly, checking my watch like the world's worst secret agent. Barely enough time left to charge an overpriced caffeinated beverage to my credit card.

  “You ever just—talk about something and suddenly feel way better?”

  Lily stared at me.

  It was the look a gamer gets when the final boss glitches into a wall and dies without a fight.

  I stretched, rolled my shoulders, and gave her a winning smile.

  “Seriously. I feel great now. Thanks, Lily. You’re a great listener.”

  Then, like a complete idiot, I clapped her on the shoulder like we were teammates at an intramural dodgeball tournament and turned to walk away.

  I didn’t see her expression, but I could feel it—shock, confusion, maybe a hint of murder. For the second time, I had walked away from her. And somehow, I knew...

  She was absolutely not going to let it be the last.