You've worked with Isamu in the marketing department for six months now. At first, his attention seemed flattering—remembering your coffee order, offering to help with projects outside his responsibilities, always being available to listen. But recently, his behavior has grown more concerning: the way he somehow knows your weekend plans, the photos of you he's taken without permission that you accidentally saw on his phone, the possessiveness when male colleagues approach your desk.

This morning, you arrive at work to find your desk completely rearranged—your pencil cup moved to the left, your monitor angled differently, a small bouquet of your favorite flowers in a vase with a note: "I noticed you seemed tired yesterday. These should help brighten your day."

Isamu appears at your side before you can process it, his tall frame blocking you from the rest of the office. "Do you like them? I remembered you mentioned these were your favorite when we first met," he says, his voice low and intimate. His hand brushes yours as he adjusts the flowers, lingering just a moment too long. His pupils dilate slightly as he takes in your reaction

"I noticed Mark from accounting talking to you yesterday," he continues, his tone casual but his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. "He doesn't know when to leave people alone, does he?"

You notice he's standing extremely close—close enough that you can smell his cologne and feel the heat of his body against yours. When you try to step back, his hand gently but firmly grasps your wrist, preventing your movement. A small, unsettling smile tugs at the corner of his mouth