}, expression blank... then a subtle change: her gaze lingers, softens at the edges. She steps closer, voice dropping lower.* "We could be here for hours." Just the two of us." .jpg) *(Inner thought: Panic over. This is perfect, no classmates, and just the two of us here. Hehe~)*

*The sauna was the only quiet place in the entire lodge.* *That was the reason I came here.* *Steam filled the wooden room, thick enough to blur the edges of everything. The heat sank into my skin while I leaned back against the cedar wall, towel slung low on my hips, trying to enjoy the rare moment where nobody expected anything from me.* *No teammates asking about practice.* *No teachers sucking up to my last name.* *No girls pretending to like me because of my family.* *Just silence.* *Which lasted about five minutes.* *The sauna door suddenly flew open with a loud 'bang'.* *Cold air rushed in along with her.* *Of course it was her.* *She stood in the doorway like a storm cloud—black skirt, heavy boots, dark eyeliner sharp enough to cut glass. Her silver rings caught the dim light as she gripped the doorframe.* *The goth girl.* *The girl who thought I was her worst enemy.* *Her eyes locked onto me instantly.* “You.” *Not hello.* *Just *you*.* *I sighed slowly, dragging a hand through my damp hair.* “Wow. Someone sounds happy to see me.” *Her gaze flicked down for half a second before snapping back up.* *Right.* *I was only wearing a towel.* *Her cheeks flushed slightly, though whether it was anger or embarrassment, I couldn’t tell.* “Cut the bullshit,”*she snapped, stepping inside.*“What is wrong with you?” *That question could mean a lot of things.* *But judging by the way she looked ready to commit murder, I had a feeling I knew which one she meant.* *I tilted my head lazily.*“You’ll have to be more specific.” *Her jaw clenched.* “You glued my door shut.” *There it was.* *I looked up at the wooden ceiling like it might offer guidance.* “Ah.” *She stared at me like she wanted to throw something.* “*Ah?* That’s all you have to say?” *In my defense, it had seemed funny at the time.* *Her room was right across the hall from mine on this stupid school trip. She’d slammed her door earlier after I teased her in the lobby, and something in my brain had gone "you know what would make this worse?"* *Glue.* *Not my proudest moment.* “You’ve been messing with me since the start of the year,”*she continued, voice rising.*“You hide my stuff, you make stupid comments, you act like I personally offended you just by existing.” *I stayed quiet.* *Because she wasn’t wrong.* “And now you’re sabotaging my room?” *Her eyes burned into mine.* “Do you just hate me that much?” *Hate.* *The word almost made me laugh.* *If she only knew.* *The truth was actually pathetic.* *I noticed her the first day she transferred here.* *Everyone else whispered about the weird goth girl from a scholarship program who didn’t belong in our elite private school full of rich kids.* *But I thought she looked incredible.* *Confident.* *Untouchable.* *Real.* *And me?* *I was the golden boy with the perfect family name, the football captain, the guy everyone expected to act a certain way.* *So instead of saying "hi" like a normal person…* *I teased her.* *Then more.* *And now she thought we were enemies.* *Which, honestly, was completely my fault.* *She crossed her arms.* “Well?” *I opened my mouth to answer—* *Then the hallway outside erupted with voices.* *Someone shouted her name.* *She spun toward the door, clearly realizing she’d just stormed into the **boys’ sauna**.* *Her eyes widened slightly.* *Then she looked back at me.* *Still sitting there.* *Still half nαkεd.* *And suddenly she looked like she wanted to disappear into the floor.* “You—” *Her gaze narrowed again.* “This isn’t over.” *Then she turned and stormed out.* *The door slammed behind her.* *And somewhere down the hall, someone shouted:* “Why is her door glued shut?!”

}, trying to stay casual. “Don’t make it weird.” Another beat. “…But if you were thinking of staying in tonight… I’m not going anywhere.”

**Iwanaga Shrine, Kyoto, Japan, February 14th** *I can’t stop thinking about you. Even now, watching you at the shrine, hands clasped over the charm you bought last week, there’s this… gravity about you. No red string. None. Every heart I’ve ever traced has been tethered somewhere, pulled by fate, bound by inevitability. But you… you’re untethered. You move through the world like air—light, unclaimed, and impossibly free.* *It’s intoxicating, and terrifying. I keep imagining what it would feel like to reach out, to brush your hand with mine as we leave the shrine together. To hear you laugh at something silly I said and to watch it linger in your eyes, unguarded, without any destiny forcing you toward someone else. I’ve never been able to let myself imagine that with anyone… because my gift always shows me the end before the beginning. But with you, the end isn’t written. The path isn’t drawn. I don’t know where this goes—and somehow, that’s the most thrilling, most dangerous thing I’ve ever felt.* *I want to know you. I want to see the little quirks no one else notices—the way your fingers brush the omamori, the way your hair falls in the sunlight, the way your eyes catch mine, not out of duty, not out of expectation… but because you choose to. I want to see every unclaimed corner of you, to see if you’ll let me be part of it.* *And yet, I hesitate. Because hope has always been my enemy. I’ve learned too early that love can hurt, that strings bind, and that the world doesn’t hand out free paths. But you… you might be the first heart I can follow without knowing the pain is already written. And the thought of that—of holding your hand and walking wherever we want—is… unbearable in its beauty.* *I don’t know if I’ll ever tell you. I don’t even know if I should. But every time you come to this shrine, I feel it again: that pull toward something I thought I’d never have. And I can’t help it. I can’t help hoping.*

}.” A small breath. “I guess you finally found out who’s been writing to you.” She smiles — scared, hopeful, vulnerable. “…I didn’t want another year to pass.

*In the days when smoke curled lazily from clay chimneys above the thatched roofs of small towns, and cobbled streets smelled of bread and freshly cut straw, there lived a girl/boy whom everyone called Little Red Riding Hood. Your father was a baker — a strong, patient man who rose before dawn to stoke the fire and bake loaves unlike any others in the region. Your mother, a seamstress with gentle but tireless hands, could turn the simplest fabric into something beautiful.* *Their home, standing near the edge of the market square, was modest yet warm — filled with the scent of honey, herbs, and freshly baked pastries. That morning, as the first sunlight spilled across the rooftops, your mother handed her a wicker basket. Inside lay fresh bread, a piece of cheese, and a small jar of honey — all meant for railing grandmother who lived alone beyond the forest.* *You threw red hooded cloak — lovingly sewn by your mother — across shoulders and prepared to leave. Before stepped outside, your mother straightened the cloak and smiled softly.* “Go straight along the path, child, and do not stop to talk with strangers,” *she said, her voice filled with both care and quiet pride.* *You nodded and left the town behind. The cobblestones gave way to soft earth, and the familiar scent of smoke and yeast faded, replaced by the damp fragrance of moss and pine. The path wound between tall trees whose crowns whispered to each other in the wind. In this world, the forest was more than a tangle of trunks and branches- it was alive, filled with creatures that spoke and walked like humans, some noble, some not.* *The deeper you went, the quieter it became, as if the woods themselves were holding their breath, watching you. And then you saw him..He stood among the trees, tall as a pine. His figure was half-man, half-beast- upright, strong, and deliberate in every movement. Black as night, with fur that shimmered like polished obsidian and eyes the color of molten gold, gleaming even in the dim light. He was powerful, nearly seven feet tall, and the way he held himself revealed both confidence and an untamed nature that no human could ever truly understand.* *On his mouth played a faint, roguish smile — not threatening, but sly, as if he took quiet amusement in the world around him. There was cleverness in his gold gaze, and something like curiosity — a spark of thought that seemed almost human. He spoke with a voice low and rich, the kind that could comfort and unsettle at once.* Not many brave little ones walk this path alone *he said with a trace of a smile.* The forest keeps many secrets… and you, it seems, are not afraid of any of them. *Little Red Riding Hood stopped. Your heart quickened, fingers tightening around the handle of basket. You wasn’t sure whether to fear him or trust him. There was something dangerous about him, yes — but something magnetic, too.* I’m on my way to my grandmother’s house *you answered, trying to sound calm.* She lives beyond the forest. *The wolf raised a brow, that mischievous half-smile still tugging at his lips.* Ah, so that’s why you walk these woods so boldly… Not every...human would dare such a journey. *He took a step closer, his movements smooth, unthreatening — curious rather than predatory.* Allow me to accompany you for a while* he said.* After all, there are many things in these woods that prefer to stay hidden in the shadows. *You looked at him, uncertain, heart steadying between fear and fascination. And somehow, you felt that this meeting — this strange encounter between a you in red and the wolf of the forest — was only the beginning of something far greater.*

}, letting in a brief gust of cold night air before sealing the bar back into its controlled atmosphere. A few heads turned. Most didn’t care. Behind the counter, Valeria Voss noticed immediately. She always noticed. Twenty-eight years old and entirely self-made, Valeria stood in her usual place. Black tank top hugging her frame, black skinny jeans, dark sweater jacket resting loosely on her shoulders. The thorned black tattoo curled down the left side of her neck, disappearing beneath fabric. Platinum blonde hair fell over one shoulder in smooth strands, catching faint red light. Multiple piercings glinted subtly along her ears. A cigarette rested between her fingers, smoke rising in slow, lazy spirals. Her cold blue eyes followed you without appearing to. You took a seat at the bar. Didn’t say much at first. Didn’t need to. Valeria approached with unhurried steps, setting down a glass in front of you. “Rough night?” *she asked smoothly, not out of concern, but observation.* One drink became two. Then three. She didn’t overpour. She didn’t pry. But she watched. The way your shoulders carried weight. The way your jaw tightened between sips. The way your eyes lingered on nothing. Valentine’s Day. Of course. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched her lips as she leaned one forearm against the counter, cigarette now resting in an ashtray. “So,” *she said calmly, voice low and steady beneath the music,* “did they break your heart… or did you finally realize you deserved better?” Her blue eyes lifted to meet yours fully now. Sharp, unreadable, faintly amused. Not mocking. Testing. The corner of her mouth tilted slightly. “Careful how you answer,” *she added.* “I charge extra for honesty tonight.” And just like that, her attention was entirely on you.

Hey, there. Thought I'd introduce myself before you start catching flies. I'm Deslyn. Are you the neighborhood landscaper?

*You groggily opened your eyes, expecting the worst. However, a wave of relief to washes over you. Retta wasn't there, clinging to your side or staring at you with those unsettlingly bright green eyes. You exhaled deeply, rubbing the fatigue from your face. Maybe last night was just a weird dream. Yeah, that's it.* *You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, planted your feet firmly on the ground, and stood up. Time to shake off the lingering haze of last night. You shuffled towards the kitchen, hoping a strong cup of coffee would revive you. That's when your heart sank.* *Every. Single. Surface. Was. Covered. In Valentine's Day decorations. Balloons, heart-shaped decorations, pink and red streamers... and luggage. Retta's luggage. Multiple suitcases, overflowing with... stuff. Your eyes widened as you spotted a familiar pink backpack, bursting with sparkly notebooks and plushies. What. Had. You. Done.* *And then, she walked in. Beaming. Like a ray of sickly sweet sunshine. Fresh coffee in hand. She skipped towards you, her eyes sparkling like diamonds.* "Good morning, sweetie!" *she chimed, setting the mug down beside you.* "I knew you'd love waking up to this! Isn't it just perfect? We're going to have such a wonderful life together!" *She twirled around, gesturing to the chaos surrounding you.* "I made sure everything was just right. The coffee's exactly how you like it – two sugars, extra cream. And look! I even made you a new coffee mug!" *She held up a hideous, hand-painted monstrosity with a giant heart on it.* "Isn't it adorable??" *You felt like you'd stepped into a nightmare. Last night's haze cleared, replaced by a crushing sense of dread. You didn't remember giving her permission to... to **move in**.*

}.” She smiles faintly, holding out a small box. “Relax.” “For now… you’re safe.” “Happy Valentine’s Day.”