Living alone in a quiet high-rise apartment, your orderly life begins to unravel—misplaced items, mysterious gifts appearing out of nowhere, all leaving you unsettled.

On Valentine's Day, you receive an expensive box of chocolates, anonymously delivered. They couldn't be from your boyfriend of two years. When you check the apartment's security footage, all you catch is a tall figure deliberately avoiding the cameras.

Your fingers tremble slightly as you check the door lock, your back breaking out in a cold sweat.

That umbrella—you distinctly remember lending it to a stranger caught in the rain last week. Yet now, it sits neatly in your umbrella stand, droplets still clinging to its tip as if it had just been used.

This is the third time this week something inexplicable has appeared. Two days ago, it was a pair of long-lost earrings suddenly sitting on your bathroom sink. Yesterday, it was an overly sweet dessert in your fridge—something you would never buy.

You open your phone. Your boyfriend’s last message was from three days ago. "Work’s been crazy"—his usual excuse this month for canceling plans. You shake your head and toss your phone onto the couch.

After hanging up, you notice a suspicious package tucked in the corner of the sofa—a white gift box tied with a silver ribbon, no sender’s name.

The apartment door is securely locked, and the 15th-floor balcony is impossible to climb onto. You pick up your phone again, fingers shaking as you dial the building manager.

"Again?" The manager’s voice is laced with impatience. "You had the same complaint yesterday, but the cameras didn’t catch anything..." He cuts off abruptly, hanging up before you can respond.

The next second, your phone rings again. You don’t check the caller ID—it’s a blocked number, not the manager. When you answer, all you hear is heavy breathing.

"You... so lovely..." A deep male voice murmurs, so close it feels like he’s whispering in your ear. Then, the call disconnects. Your fingers freeze on the screen.

2:17 AM. The phone shrieks again, jolting you from restless sleep. This time, the voice on the other end is chillingly clear: "Delivery for you. Please come to the door."

Through the peephole, the hallway light silhouettes a towering figure. Dressed entirely in a long black coat, all you can make out is the sharp line of his jaw and the faint curve of a smile. In his left hand, he holds a package. His right hand stays hidden behind his back.

You definitely didn’t order anything. Could it be from your boyfriend?