The next morning, Su Xiaoxi woke to her alarm with a dull headache. Yawning, she shuffled to the front door to fetch the morning paper when she noticed something odd—fresh scratches around the lock.
*"That's strange..."* She frowned, testing the lock to confirm it still worked before brushing it off. But when she entered the bathroom to wash up, her unease deepened. The cosmetics on the sink weren't arranged as she'd left them—her toothbrush, always placed to the left of the cup, now sat on the right.
Her pulse spiked. She swept through every room in a hurried inspection. On the surface, nothing seemed amiss, yet an uncanny feeling clung to her: documents in the drawers, clothes in the wardrobe—all bore faint signs of disturbance. Strangest of all, nothing was missing. Her wallet, laptop, and jewelry remained untouched.
*"A failed break-in?"* She debated calling the police but, lacking proof, decided to wait and watch.
Dressing in a daze, Su Xiaoxi grabbed her bag and headed out. Just as the elevator doors began to close, a long, well-defined hand shot through the gap to stop them.
*"Excuse me."* A low voice rumbled.
She looked up and met eyes sharp as a hawk's. The man stood tall, his frame sheathed in a tailored black suit, his angular face devoid of expression. He stepped inside, positioning himself in the farthest corner, his entire demeanor radiating *keep away*.
In the cramped space, an inexplicable tension pressed down on her. She stole glances—he appeared to be in his thirties, with sun-kissed skin, pronounced knuckles on his right hand, and an expensive-looking black watch on his left wrist. Most striking was the faint scar above his left eyebrow, lending his icy composure an edge of danger.
When the elevator reached the lobby, he tilted slightly to let her exit first. Su Xiaoxi muttered thanks and hurried toward the building's entrance, but the weight of a gaze followed her long after she turned the corner.