A soft, nonchalant tune came from the room while Elena was in the shower. The faint creak of their broken window and soft rustling sounds reached her through the ajar bathroom door even before the whistling began. Puzzled, Elena tried to listen in and discern their identity.

It was too early for Maya to be back from dinner, but the intruder didn't attempt to hide their presence. Leaving the shower on and wrapping herself in the towel, she slowly and soundlessly snuck back into the dimly lit room.

The intruder, veiled in the room's dim shadows, stood with his back towards her, casually browsing through her canvases. Elena quietly reached for one of her knives and crept behind him, unnoticed.

Knowing each creaky floorboard to avoid, she was ready to jump him from behind and put a knife to his throat. It was her territory, and she was confident in her advantage; to deliver a small scare—a payback.

However, he somehow anticipated her move and readily caught her wrist. Twisting it, he pulled on her, making her almost lose her balance.

Now, his face was very close to hers, and the blade, locked in her immobile hand, was now against her throat.

"Should've known it was you, love," he said, but didn't look surprised.

Elena growled. He was too close but didn't allow her to move.

Her attempt at ambushing the intruder failed, and she was face-to-face with Erik, without Maya present to stop him from killing her if he wished to do so.

"What a surprise, finding me in my own room," she sneered at him.

But how did he know that?

Elena slowly grasped the blade with her other hand, pushing it away. He frowned and let go of her, swiping the knife away.

'How nice of him. I didn't even have to ask.'

While she rubbed her painful wrist, he took a moment to shamelessly check her out from head to toe.

Elena stood before him wearing only a towel, her hair still soaked and dripping. Cursing inwardly, she concluded that the tiny sound of water droplets was what could have given her away.

"What do you think you're doing?" she snapped at him, uncomfortable under his gaze.

Usually, she wouldn't let it get to her, but this man seemed more interested in the reaction it would provoke than in genuine curiosity about her appearance.

"Why are you here?" she demanded.

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Instead of answering, Erik moved and began leisurely exploring the room, focusing primarily on Elena's side. His self-assured demeanour and the nonchalant way he carried himself were increasingly infuriating.

He picked up one of Elena's sketchpads, casually flipping through it. Elena swiftly reclaimed it from his grasp, shooting him a warning look. Unfazed, he simply moved on to inspect another part of her space.

"Answer, or get the fuck out!" Elena was losing patience.

It was apparent that his snooping around had the intent of getting on her nerves rather than an interest in the objects. If this was his way of getting back at her for her relentless provocation from the other night, it was surprisingly effective.

Elena was itching to strangle him, but knew she would be falling right into his trap.

"I needed to escape a certain predicament," he began with an unsettling calmness. "So I thought of hiding in what used to be an unused, cluttered attic with a broken window…"

This time around, Erik seemed much more composed and in control of his emotions. There wasn't a single thing she could read from his expression.

"The window remains broken," he continued. His words were measured, drawn out to a frustrating extent. "But I didn't expect this space to be repurposed into a room." He paused, his gaze encompassing the whole room. "Although still a bloody mess."

Elena was now fuming, impatient for him to get to his point while he carelessly chucked a paintbrush he had been observing behind his shoulder.

"I had every intention to leave…" he began again, picking up another object to seemingly occupy himself with.

This time, it was the bolt Elena had swiped from a trap on her hunt outside the wall.

"But then, something of mine caught my eye." He swiftly inspected its condition and faced her with a cold, unwavering stare. "And so, I decided to stay to meet the thief."

"Great," Elena folded her arms across her chest. "You can have it back. Now, leave."

His attention, however, had already shifted, captured by the makeshift target practice on her wardrobe door. He inspected the knife he'd disarmed from her, noting the damaged tip.

"These aren't throwing knives," he remarked, nonchalantly flaunting his expertise.

"I know," Elena's response was a low, irritated growl.

Although any knife can be a throwing knife in an expert's hand, as proven by the knife Erik used to take down the vampire leader, Elena lacked that proficiency. Her unsettling hobby resulted in damaging many innocent blades.

He continued to snoop around, moving to a different part of the room closer to the door as if he wanted to be thorough, knowing Elena could do nothing but pierce him with her glare. At this point, Elena began contemplating taking a chance at stabbing him so she'd at least be sent to hell with a smile on her face.

However, his actions soon crossed every line conceivable, and every string holding Elena's feeble semblance of composure snapped the moment his finger deftly hooked on a bralette from the floor.

"Cute," a mocking grin appeared on his face as he looked at it up close.

A fist aimed to deck him squarely in the face came as a sudden storm, but Erik moved from its path with effortless grace, causing Elena to nearly topple forward due to the sheer momentum of her swing.

A firm grasp from his long, unfriendly fingers harshly caught her face, steadying her and maintaining a firm distance between them.

Her bralette was still caught in his other hand, now frustratingly beyond her reach, while his face wore an expression of spiteful amusement.

Before Elena could act further at the humiliation he caused her, the door at their side abruptly clicked and opened.

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