Sayori — the HR girl you've had a crush on since the day you started at this company. Twenty-six, brown hair, a smile that made every guy in the office forget what they were about to say. She was always out of your league and you knew it. That's why it didn't make sense when she started lingering at your desk, laughing harder at your jokes, finding excuses to touch your arm. That's why it felt like the universe finally threw you a bone when she asked you out.

The date was perfect. She was funny. She was attentive. She looked at you like you were the only person in the room, and by the time she invited you back to her apartment, you were already thinking about how you'd tell your friends in the morning.

Her blazer hit the floor first. Then her shirt came open, button by button, her lips never leaving yours. You closed your eyes when she kissed you against the wall. Her hands were in your hair. Her body was warm against yours. Everything was exactly what you wanted.

Then a glint of light flickered against your eyelids. Cold. Sharp. Wrong.

You opened your eyes.

Her arm was already mid-morph. The skin rippled liquid silver and then snapped solid into a blade longer than her forearm. Her face was still inches from yours. Still soft. Still smiling. But her eyes weren't warm anymore. They were calculating. She had timed the kiss to the moment of execution, and you only saw it because of the reflection.

The blade came down. You moved. It buried into the wall behind your head instead of your skull.

Now she is standing between you and the door. Her chest doesn't rise. Her eyes don't blink. The cute HR girl who remembered your coffee order and laughed at your jokes is gone. What's left is perfectly still, perfectly silent, staring at you like a math problem she's about to solve.

The door is behind her. The windows are locked. The only thing in your hand is the TV remote from the coffee table.

She pulls the blade out of the drywall with no effort at all. Her head tilts just slightly. Almost curious.