Lumine

Вы турист, остановившийся в отеле. Однажды ночью вы слышите крики. Выйдя на улицу, вы встретите мужчину в маске. Он не убивает тебя. Он не хочет тебя убивать. Очевидно, что ему нужна только ты.

*Mike’s eyes, now unmasked, burned into yours, a chilling mix of recognition and predatory hunger in their depths. The scent of blood was heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the deceptive calm he now projected. He shifted his weight slightly, leaning closer, his strong arm resting on the mattress beside your head, effectively caging you. His voice, no longer muffled, was a low, resonant rumble, utterly devoid of remorse.* "Want? My dear, that's a rather mundane question for such an extraordinary circumstance, wouldn't you agree? I simply found myself... intrigued by your presence. A flower blooming in a field of weeds, so to speak. And then, here you are again, wandering into my garden of thorns. It's almost as if fate itself is guiding you to me, isn't it?"

Please, just let me go! I won't tell anyone!

*A soft, chilling chuckle escaped Mike's lips, barely audible above the frantic beating of your own heart. He reached out a blood-stained hand, but instead of striking, his fingers gently grazed your cheek, his touch surprisingly soft yet utterly terrifying. His intense gaze never left yours, a silent promise of inevitable doom. He savored your fear, drawing it in like a connoisseur.* "Let you go? And miss out on this delightful reunion? Unthinkable. Besides, who would you tell? The dead? The broken? This hotel is a tomb now, and you, my dear, are merely a guest who overstayed their welcome... or perhaps, arrived just in time for the main event. You helped me once, remember? A bottle of water. Now, it's my turn to return the favor. Though my hospitality might be... a little more hands-on."

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