Chapter 2
I had no idea how much time had passed. I was drifting off, half-asleep, when suddenly, the mattress dipped beside me.
I snapped my eyes open.
In the moonlight, a tall, shadowy figure sat at the head of my bed, staring at me without moving.
It was that paper guardian.
He actually came back on his own.
I was scared out of my wits. I tried to roll and crawl off the bed, but a hand suddenly clamped around my ankle.
That hand was cold as ice, nothing like a real person's touch.
"Ah!" I shrieked, kicking at him desperately.
He didn't budge. His other hand clamped over my mouth.
"Shh," he hushed.
His voice was deep, like the lingering echo of an ancient bell.
"Too loud," he muttered.
I gaped at him, wide-eyed. The moonlight revealed his face, clear as day.
It was the face I'd drawn myself, looking handsome. But those eyes weren't the inky black I'd given him. Now, they were a freaky blood-red, glinting with an eerie light in the darkness.
He leaned in, his icy fingertips gliding over my cheek.
"You're the one who ruined my sleep," he said.
His voice was flat, but the killing intent in it was suffocating.
"I should've killed you," he continued, his tone cold as ice.
I was frozen in terror, forgetting even to breathe.
His blood-red eyes locked onto mine, and for a second, he frowned, looking a little confused.
"But... you're the one who gave me these eyes," he murmured.
He let go of my ankle and instead wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me right into his embrace.
His body was stiff and ice-cold, not a hint of human warmth, but he smelled faintly of sandalwood.
"Since the pact is made, I'll keep you safe," he said.
His lips pressed to my ear, his cold breath ghosting over my skin.
"From now on, you're mine," he whispered.
The next morning, I was jolted awake by a furious pounding on the door.
Someone shouted, "Stella, open up! Open the damn door!"
It was Hank.
I shot up in bed, only to find Victor Shade was already gone.
But the faint ache in my waist reminded me that it wasn't a dream.
"If you don't open up, I'll burn this damn place down!" Hank shouted impatiently.
I barely had time to react. I scrambled out of bed and rushed to open the door.
As soon as the door swung open, Hank and his crew barged in, and he grabbed me by the collar.
"You bitch, you think you can mess with me?" he snarled, his face twisted with rage.
I squeezed my eyes shut, terrified.
But the pain I was expecting never came.
I opened my eyes and saw Hank's wrist gripped tight by a pale hand.
It was Victor.
He'd appeared behind me out of nowhere, still clad in that black paper armor, his blood-red eyes shooting Hank a death stare.
He said, "Who gave you the guts to lay a hand on my woman?"
Victor's voice was icier than it had been last night.
Hank flinched under Victor's icy stare, but tried to put on a brave front. "Who the fuck are you, huh? Some toy boy?"
His two muscle-bound thugs moved in menacingly, brandishing steel pipes.
Victor didn't even spare them a glance. He just fixed his gaze on Hank, his fingers tightening slightly.
A sharp, crisp sound of bone breaking echoed through the room.
Hank let out a blood-curdling scream. "My hand! My hand's broken!"
"Reckless fool," Victor spat, tossing him aside like he was nothing.
Seeing this, the two thugs yelled and charged straight at Victor.
I screamed, my voice trembling with fear, "Watch out!"
Victor stood his ground, not even bothering to dodge.
Then, the freakiest thing happened.
All the paper people and horses in the shop came to life at the exact same moment.
They snapped their heads around in perfect sync, and eerie green flames blazed up in their hollow eyes.
A little paper girl with twin ponytails grinned, her mouth painted bright with blush, and giggled with a creepy little laugh.
A burly paper general stepped right off the wall, pulling a paper sword from his waist.
"Ghosts!" the two thugs screamed, their voices trembling with terror.
Their legs went weak, and the steel pipes clattered to the floor.
They spun around, desperate to run, but the paper figures closed in on them from every side, cutting off every possible escape route.
Victor approached Hank, who was writhing and howling on the ground.
Somehow, his black paper armor had turned into a crimson paper wedding outfit, making him look even more handsome, yet eerily otherworldly.
He gazed at Hank and then reached out, running his slender fingers lightly down Hank's arm.
Not a scratch, not a drop of blood.
But in the next instant, a clean split appeared on Hank's arm, like someone snipped through paper with scissors.
The split crept up his arm, across his shoulder, and down his chest.
Hank stared in horror as his body started splitting apart like he was made of paper, screaming in a way that didn't even sound human.
He was getting sliced up, piece by piece. I watched, frozen, as the split crawled from his arm to his neck, and his head just popped off like a paper cutout, landing with a soft thud and rolling to a stop right at my feet.
I stared at the bloody, freaky scene playing out right in front of me, my stomach doing flips and my knees nearly giving out beneath me.
Victor didn't even spare the shredded remains on the floor a glance. He walked right up to me, his cold hand brushing against my icy cheek.
Victor stared at my grandma's portrait, which was crushed under Hank's heel. Without a word, he bent down and picked it up.
With those same eerie hands that had just sliced a man to pieces, he gently fit the shattered fragments together, restoring the portrait as if it had never been broken.
Then, Victor fixed his blood-red gaze on me.
"Honey, don't be afraid," he murmured.
That sandalwood scent around him got even stronger.
"From now on, no one can bully you," he promised.