Sofia was working part-time at a downtown pet store. She was in her early twenties and spent her hours between cages to clean, bags of feed to arrange, and puppies seeking attention. It wasn't her dream job, but it was nice and it would have been even nicer if it weren't for the bird section: they made a racket all day long, never taking a break.

That day the owner went out on an errand, and Sofia was left alone in the store. She was in the back, intent on arranging boxes of bedding and kibble, when the front doorbell rang.

“Just a moment!” Sofia made her voice heard.

She finished placing the last box on the top shelf, dusted her hands on her apron, and turned to go back to the counter. That's when she noticed it: the little birds had stopped singing.

The silence was unnatural, dense, as if the air itself had stopped. No rustling of wings, no chirping, no flapping of beaks against cage bars. The store, usually filled with a light, continuous din, was enveloped in a sonorous emptiness that made her slow her step. Even the sound of her breathing seemed out of place.

Sofia headed toward the bird section, guided by the unnatural silence. There she found a tall man, with his back turned, standing in front of the cages. He seemed immersed in his own thoughts.

“Hello, can I help you?” asked Sofia, in a gentle tone.

He turned slowly, and for a moment she was speechless. He was a young man and one glance was enough to make her feel a vague disturbance. He looked handsome — the kind that needs no explanation, no details. More than beauty, however, what struck Sofia was his smile: kind, almost serene, with a disarming naturalness that conveyed sympathy instantly.

There was nothing forced in that gesture, no pose. Just a sincere expression, capable of putting one at ease even in the midst of that suspended silence.

At least, that was what Sofia thought she understood. There was something underneath that quiet smile that eluded her: a barely noticeable nuance, hard to grasp.

 

The girl still did not know that this man with such a reassuring and well-groomed appearance was actually a ruthless killer. He was neither human nor a monster. He was not alive, but neither was he dead.

He had no past, yet he carried within him the burden of all his victims.

His name was Jason, a name destined to carve itself into Sofia's memory like a wound that does not heal.
But she did not know it yet.

 

“I would like to purchase a canary,” the customer answered the question.

“There are several specimens in the cage.” said Sofia in a professional tone, “Some are quieter and some are lively... more or less.”

The man was silent for a moment, then turned slightly toward her, "Do they have dead batteries? They're all silent." he said with a subtle note of sarcasm, almost amused.

It was as if the man enjoyed keeping her on edge, with a kindness as sharp as thin glass.

And as the client went back to staring at the cage, Sofia had the distinct feeling that he was not watching the canaries — not really — but something beyond, which she could not see.

The girl remained looking at the canaries, but when she turned back to look at the client, she noticed that he was staring at her. His gaze was almost piercing, as if he was trying to read her every reaction.

With a barely-there smile and a tone of subtle sarcasm, the man asked: “My dear, am I supposed to catch that canary myself?”

The question caught her off guard, and for a moment, Sofia couldn’t respond. Mortified, she moved quickly, trying to recover from the tension that was building in her chest. Without thinking too much, she grabbed the first canary within reach and gently placed it in the transport box, trying to ignore the embarrassment coloring her cheeks.

“I wanted a yellow canary...” he said, “This one is orange.”

A knot formed in her throat and for a moment she felt lost, unable to react. Sofia felt as if she had done something fundamental wrong.

But then, with an amused smile, the man chuckled. His laughter was deep and calm, as if he was simply enjoying her discomfort.

“I was just kidding,” he added, and his voice, though gentle, hid a slight trace of pleasure at seeing Sofia in such distress.

The customer walked past Sofia without a word, moving with a quiet, purposeful step. He walked alone toward the counter, leaving the girl alone with the bird.

Despite her embarrassment, Sofia could not help but feel almost intrigued by the man's behavior. There was something strange about him, a subtle energy that drew her in without her being able to explain it. A genuine curiosity, but also a sense of disturbance stirred within her.

When Sofia finally approached the counter she found him standing there with his elbows resting on the surface, waiting. He did not seem to be in a hurry and his apparent calmness created an atmosphere that made everything tense.

Sofia reached the counter with a firm step and placed the transport box on it, "Do you need a cage? We have a discount on the ones with the perch."

“I have everything I need at home, thank you.”

The girl began dialing the keys on the cash register, “Oh, do you have any more canaries at home?”
The young man shook his head, “The last one escaped from the cage and broke its neck after banging against the window.”

For a moment, Sofia's smile faded, “Oh... I'm sorry.”

The words came out genuine to her, out of the sadness one feels at the sudden death of a helpless creature. The man, however, remained impassive. His face was inscrutable. He seemed to have uttered nothing more relevant than a description of the weather.

Without another word, he began rhythmically tapping a finger on the box, where the new canary barely moved: perhaps confused or perhaps afraid.

That gesture, monotonous and cadenced, had something hypnotic about it. Sofia watched him but realized she could not read the man.

“The cage is not a denial of freedom, but a reflection on its price: it is a boundary that protects, not a barrier that condemns,” the man said, “The cage preserves. If that canary had known that, it probably wouldn't have flown off only to crash into my window. So don't feel bad.” then the man sighed, “That's enough now, I've taken up too much of your time. I'll pay for this little singing chicken and be on my way. You've been kind.”

Sofia smiled, unsure of what to say. There was something about the man that made her hesitant, as if every word could break an invisible balance.

The transaction ended in silence, and the man turned away without adding anything.

Sofia followed him with her eyes as he walked away toward the exit, realizing only then how tall he was.

When the door closed, the birds in the cages erupted into disordered song, as if they had been holding back the entire time of his presence. Sofia winced. The sound, sudden and vivid, made her heart jolt.

She could not explain it, but the air seemed lighter now. And at the same time, emptier.

 

What about the canary?

Unfortunately, the poor creature had only been a pretext for approaching Sofia. Jason liked nothing but himself. In his world there was no room for anything else: everything existed only to serve his will.

He could have opened the cage. He could have let that little orange body disappear into the sky, free.

He didn't, because that's the way Jason was: cruel not by impulse, but by choice.

So he decided to stuff the bird. No singing and no flapping of wings.

Just silence, perfectly preserved.

 

Sofia finished her shift, quietly settled the last few things and said goodbye to the store owner. She walked toward her appointment, where she would meet her two friends. She walked leisurely, and yet, inside there was something pressing on her chest.

They were the only friends she had left. Sofia had shared important years with them but now everything seemed to slow down, to flake off. In recent times something had changed.

They had continued with school, had built up a daily routine that seemed to push them further and further away from her. Sofia could sense it; it was a subtle but constant impression.

She would have liked to talk about her discomfort: that she felt sidelined and was afraid of losing her friends altogether. But those words stayed in her throat. Every time, she thought that if she said it out loud, it would truly drive them away. As if simply admitting that discomfort would only cause annoyance.

Sofia decided to keep quiet. She smiled, nodded, and listened while inside she heard something breaking softly, noiselessly. She carried everything inside as if it was not important.

 

She saw her friends from a distance, sitting on a bench at the edge of the square. They were talking to each other, laughing, and for a moment she slowed her pace.

“Hello!” she said, with a smile that tried to look spontaneous.

Vanessa and Robert returned the greeting; Sofia sat down next to them, placing her bag on her lap.

“You're late, did something happen?” asked Robert.

“I'm sorry, a couple of hamsters had escaped from their cages and I lost time looking for them.”

Vanessa giggled, “Geez.” then looked at Robert and it was disarming how quickly she changed the subject, “Anyway, Lisa really dropped the sociology class in the end.”

Robert laughed softly, “She and her fixations of the moment...”

Sofia gave a faint smile but said nothing. She didn’t know this Lisa.

“And then, in the classroom today... I swear, I thought about getting up and walking out!” continued Vanessa, looking at Robert, “There was that professor who pretends to be engaging, but he's just ridiculous.”

Robert nodded, turned barely toward Sofia, “Luckily, you don’t have to put up with certain people anymore.”

Sofia nodded, clasping her hands between her knees. She was looking for something to say that didn't sound wrong, but nothing came to mind, “Did you do anything nice yesterday?” she asked.

“I studied at Vanessa's house,” Robert replied, and the other friend confirmed by nodding her head.
“Ah. I didn't know that.”

Vanessa shrugged her shoulders, “It was improvised. You're always working anyway.”

The date was not a disaster, but neither was it something to be remembered with pleasure. Only an hour, yet for Sofia it seemed like an eternity. Every minute had felt empty and fatigued to her, as if she had to hold her breath so as not to ruin something that was, after all, already cracked.

At home, she spent some time with her family. She answered questions with tired smiles and participated in conversation without really listening.

The night, like every night, was a battle. She tossed and turned in bed, unable to find peace. Thoughts ran in circles, always the same: what she had done wrong, what she might say, what would happen if she had the courage to speak.

She believed that she had hit bottom, that it could not get any worse.

But the worst, silent and invisible, was only beginning.

 

 

The next day, although the canary had already died, Jason returned to the store. He immediately noticed that Sofia was leaning against the wall next to the shop window.

The position of her body suggested a silent, almost discreet presence, but his eyes did not miss the expression she wore on her face. It wasn’t distraction, but something deeper: the look of someone lost in thought, distant from everything around her. Jason distracted Sofia from her world of thought and exhibited his usual smile.

“I am mortified,” he exclaimed, ”when I came home yesterday, I realized I forgot to buy food for the canary.”

Sofia looked at him with a hinted smile, “I serve customers only when the owner is absent from the store. You can come in and ask him directly.”

Jason raised his eyebrows, “I peeked inside the store, the owner is busy serving an elderly lady. I'm afraid I'll have to wait.” then smiled wryly, ”Like a few centuries.”

Sofia laughed, a short but clear sound. That customer's joke, simple as it was, had managed to scratch that veil of melancholy that had accompanied her since morning.

Jason watched her in silence for a moment, then with an expression somewhere between curiosity and playful reproach, said, “At the risk of sounding cheeky, aren't you a little too young to ruin your lungs by smoking?”

“Well... I'm 20 years old.”

Jason barely arched his eyebrows, as if trying to make a quick mental calculation, then asked, “And at twenty, shouldn't you be in school?”

The question sounded not judgmental, but sincere. Sofia lowered her gaze for a moment, “School isn't for me.” she said, “I never felt up to it and I was never good at studying. So I preferred to give up and start working.”

At that moment, Sofia realized something that struck her all of a sudden: she didn’t really understand why she was sharing her personal stories with a complete stranger. She was shy, used to keeping her most sincere thoughts to herself. Yet, there was something about him that put her at ease, something that went beyond his gentle smile or polite friendliness: it was his eyes.

Amber eyes, warm and attentive, that didn’t just look at her — they saw her.

Lately, with her two friends, Sofia felt more like a bystander than a part of the conversation: present, but almost never included. Invisible, in a way. That young man, on the other hand, listened to her with genuine curiosity, as if everything she said deserved his full attention. He didn’t interrupt her or look away, he was truly present.

And that was exactly the mistake his victims made. Always the same, always damnably identical. And he knew it perfectly well.

Jason leaned his shoulder against the wall. “It’s a shame you stopped your studies.” he said, as if he truly felt sorry, but his eyes showed no emotion, “My parents were obsessed with school. I had to be perfect. Always. My grades, my behavior, even how I sat at the table… everything had to be flawless.” He paused, then sighed, “They weren’t bad people. They were stupid... And maybe even blind.”

Sofia looked at him, slightly taken aback. “Blind? Why do you say that?”

He looked at her, and as he did, something in his eyes changed. It wasn’t anger, nor pain — it was a cold serenity, like that of someone who has long since drawn their own conclusions.
“Because I have always been perfect,” he replied, with disarming ease.

No emphasis, no pride on display. Just a simple statement, spoken as a matter of fact.

Before Sofia could say anything, Jason moved again, casually bringing the focus back to her. He picked up the thread of the conversation as if it had never been interrupted.

“And your parents?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “What do they think about you dropping out of school?”

“They accepted it. At least, that’s what they say.” She lowered her gaze. “I don’t think they’re proud of me, you know? But at least they have my sister. She really is good. At everything.”

That “at everything” slipped out almost in a whisper, but it was enough. It carried an old, subtle weight—the weight of someone who has grown used to living in comparison and always coming out the loser.

Jason gave her a gentle smile, carefully measured. “I don’t know your parents,” he said in a calm tone, “but I’m sure they don’t see you the way you think they do.”

Then, as had happened before, he changed the subject. His controlling nature knew when to cut things short and when to shift the focus.

“Anyway, can I ask your name?” Sofia hesitated, a faint uncertain smile appearing on her lips, but she didn’t answer right away. Jason seized the opportunity and turned everything into a game.

"If you don't want to tell me, we can give each other fake names. I could call you Mildred."

Sofia suddenly burst out laughing, “No offense, but that's so ugly!”

"Wait, let me think. Gertrude? Brunhilde!"

He threw out those names with a practiced sense of humor, as if it were just a lighthearted moment. But even then, beneath the surface of the game, he was watching, taking note of every reaction.

She laughed the entire time, amused; some of the names listed she had never even heard before.

Jason shrugged with a mock resignation, but in his eyes shone a quiet satisfaction. He had made her laugh and, more importantly, had led her exactly where he wanted.

Finally, perhaps out of pity, she decided to answer, “My name is Sofia.” she smiled, “Your name?”
“Jason” he said it with impeccable courtesy.

Sofia’s lunch break didn’t last long, perhaps because, amid light conversations and some laughter, time seemed to pass faster than usual. Jason had been very friendly and kind, just as she had thought from their very first meeting. When time started to run short, it was he who broke the spell.

“Now I have to go, I’ve got some work to take care of in my shop,” said Jason.

“Cool! What kind of shop is it?”

Jason shrugged, “I’m a toymaker, so…”

Sofia stared at him, amazed, “Wait… what? That job still exists?”

Jason parted his lips slightly in an expression somewhere between scandalized and amused. “The audacity with which you ask me that…” he said, bringing a hand to his chest in a theatrical gesture, as if deeply offended.

That theatrical display made Sofia smile.

“I didn’t mean to offend you! It’s just that… well, let me explain!”

“Oh, but I'll let you explain, in fact!” Jason replied with a sharp smile, “I’m really curious to hear how you’ll try to justify yourself.”

Sofia struggled to hold back a laugh. “I’ve never met a toymaker before. I mean… it seems like a really rare job. Nowadays, artisanal crafts are disappearing.”

Jason crossed his arms. “I’ll pretend to believe that,” he replied skeptically, then added with some pride, “and for the record, I’m the best in my field.”

“Really?” Sofia asked, unable to hide her curiosity.

Jason nodded with a smile that carried a hint of challenge, “You can bet on it. I’ve traveled the world, and believe me, I’ve left my mark everywhere I’ve been.” He paused for a moment and then, with clear sarcasm, added, “Now I have to get back to my ancient and now obsolete job.”

With one last mocking smile, he started to walk away, but Sofia couldn’t help calling out once more, “If there’s ever a chance, I’d love to see your creations!”

He turned back one last time, staring at her for a moment. “Definitely,” he replied, with a smirk that seemed almost like a riddle.

Sofia watched Jason walk away, then lowered her gaze and noticed that her cigarette had burned down to the last stub. Only then did she realize something important.

“He forgot to buy the canary’s feed again…” she murmured to herself, but by then Jason had already turned the corner and, in an instant, vanished from sight.

 

 

Jason did indeed return to the place he had described, but what characterized it was far from what he had hinted at. His “little shop” was nowhere near comparable to a real store and, in fact, it wasn’t a place for just anyone.

It was a place accessible to only a few, but that didn’t mean they were lucky to cross its threshold. Many had entered, but no one had ever managed to leave. What at first appeared to be a paradise of wonderful objects was, in reality, an abyss, the gateway to a hidden hell.

After meeting Sofia, something in Jason's soul began to stir, restless. A subtle but constant agitation urged him to act. He had to prepare the environment in preparation for the girl's visit. Because he had already decided it: sooner or later, Sofia would cross that threshold.

After everything had been put in order, it was time to deal with the wax dolls. He examined them one by one, carefully inspecting each of them. Only then did he realize the vastness of his... collection. Some were neatly arranged on the shelves, others sat composedly in the armchairs, while the rest had been placed standing, motionless, like silent statues.

He slowly leaned toward one of the dolls, his face just inches from its motionless one. The wax skin reflected the dim light, smooth and empty like the memories that had buried them.

"I remember you..." he murmured, "Your name was Rebecca, right? No, maybe it was Maggie?" Then he smiled, indifferent. "Doesn't matter. In the end, I've forgotten the names of most of you. Useless mistakes."

Jason's mouth twisted into an expression of disgust, veiled by a deep, simmering resentment. Every single doll, every impassive face frozen in wax, was a dull, silent reminder of something that hadn't worked: a failure. And he hated failure.

Those figures weren't just trophies, they were punishments. His sadism whispered it to him: they were his revenge. But behind that illusion lay another truth, more slippery and vile. He hated them.

Most of those victims had been forgotten. The world had kept turning, indifferent, and time had erased them as easily as a name written in sand. But not him. Jason remembered. He preserved their faces, tore them from the grasp of time, and imprisoned them in wax.

And in that frozen horror, he took pleasure. Because they were gone, but he remained. Jason was the only one still looking at them. The only one who remembered. Well... more or less.
And, according to his twisted logic, those dolls ought to be grateful. Grateful for the eternity he had granted them.

 

Several weeks went by. Sofia tried multiple times to meet with Robert and Vanessa, but despite all her efforts, she kept getting the same response: they were too busy with their studies or already had other plans.

The fair had arrived in town just a few days earlier, and Sofia immediately thought it could be the perfect chance to spend some time with Robert and Vanessa. But, as had happened too many times before, her hopes were dashed by the silence behind their excuses.

She stood by the window for hours, her eyes lost in the colorful lights that lit up the horizon. In the end, she decided to go alone. She had no intention of riding the attractions—the thought of being there without company was already sad enough—but she knew she could at least buy some cotton candy and a few sweets.

There were many people, mostly children running around. The sweet scent of cotton candy lingered in the air, inviting and familiar.

Sofia began to look around, searching with her eyes for the candy stand, when suddenly she spotted Robert and Vanessa.

They hadn't noticed her yet, but if they had, they would have seen an unreadable expression on her face, a mix of astonishment and disappointment.

It was anger that guided her steps toward them. As she got closer, Sofia realized that Robert and Vanessa weren't alone: they were surrounded by other people, probably friends. Seeing them there, in a group, as if nothing had happened, hurt her even more.

When she got close enough, the two of them noticed her. There was no surprise on their faces.
"If you knew you were coming here, you could have invited me," Sofia said, getting straight to the point.

"Oh, hi Sofia. We decided at the last minute to come," Vanessa replied in a neutral tone.

The girl furrowed her brows, incredulous. "Was it really that hard to at least try and ask me?"

Vanessa shrugged indifferently. "We thought you wouldn't come."

Even though it was her who had started the conversation, Sofia couldn't help but feel defensive.

"The last three times I asked you to hang out, you made excuses, and now I find you here with your damn new friends!" she snapped, her voice trembling with frustration.

A few people in the group turned to look at her. Sofia didn't recognize any of them, but when she saw them start to snicker, blood rushed to her face. Her cheeks turned red, not from embarrassment, but from anger.

Robert cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable. "Sorry, we didn't mean to make you feel left out."
Next to him, Vanessa huffed in annoyance.

"Honestly? You've been making me feel like this for a while." Sofia shot back. "Ever since I finished school, you two seem more and more distant." She lowered her gaze.

Her hands clenched into fists. She had finally said what she was feeling—or at least part of it. She hoped at least one of them would react, say something, anything... but no response came. Only silence.

Around her, the clamor of laughter, music, and the sounds of the rides continued to swirl around, chaotic and muffled.

And then, a voice. A calm, distinct sound that seemed, for a moment, to cancel out all the noise.
"Sofia?"

When Sofia turned around, she saw Jason not far from the scene. He was holding a paper bag, and the expression on his face was filled with apparent surprise.

Sofia thought he was reacting to her flushed cheeks and teary eyes, so she quickly composed herself, cleared her throat and tried to regain her composure. She felt humiliated. Out of place.

As Jason began to approach, Vanessa’s eyes lit up and she nudged Robert, as if to highlight his presence.
"I was just passing by..." Jason said, lying effortlessly, "and I recognized your voice. Is everything okay?"

The whole time, his gaze remained fixed on Sofia, completely ignoring everyone else, as if in the chaos of the amusement park, no one else existed but her.

Sofia quickly wiped away a tear, trying in vain to appear casual. "Yeah, we were just talking," she mumbled, visibly awkward.

"Who’s this guy? Is he a friend of yours?" Vanessa asked with a mischievous smile. "He's cute."
Jason didn’t even glance at her. "From the looks of it, doesn’t seem like a pleasant conversation," he said, continuing to fix his gaze on Sofia, paying attention to every slightest shift in her expression, as if trying to read her.

Robert wasn't impressed by the presence of the man. "It's a matter between friends," he said, his tone firm.

It was then that Jason finally turned his gaze away from Sofia and directed it toward him. His amber eyes locked onto Robert with a subtle coldness, and for a moment, the air seemed to grow heavier.

"Really? Is it part of your 'friendship' to make her cry in public, like some insignificant child?" he responded.
His voice was calm, but laced with sarcasm. Every word seemed carefully crafted to strike with precision, and his tone carried the air of someone enjoying uncovering others' weaknesses.

Robert stared at him, tense, while Jason didn’t break his gaze, as if evaluating how easy it would be to break him.

"It’s just a tantrum because we didn’t invite her out with us, that’s all," Vanessa chimed in with a dismissive tone.

Sofia felt the anger rise inside her. "You always have to be a bitch! What’s your problem?" she snapped, her voice filled with frustration.

"Look," Vanessa replied, shrugging with indifference, "at some point in life, people move on, with or without you, okay? Sometimes, the bond, or whatever the hell you want to call it, eventually ends. Roads split. You work, we go to school. Two different worlds."

Robert, visibly embarrassed, placed a hand on Vanessa's shoulder, trying to get her to stop. "Alright, that's enough now."

But Vanessa pushed his hand away with a quick motion, without flinching. "No, it's not enough."
Jason didn’t say a word. He wasn’t interested in intervening. He just stood there, watching the scene with an almost imperceptible smile on his lips. He let the tension build in the air, a silence that weighed like a boulder. He was enjoying the show, the conflict unfolding before his eyes.

It had taken so little to make the situation spiral out of control. Every word, every small provocation, was pushing Sofia further away from her friends, driving her closer to him. It was an easy game, and he knew it.

"We've made other friendships, so sorry if our lives don't revolve around you." Vanessa's voice was sharp, impatient with the disappointment etched on Sofia's face.

It was then that Jason, observing the scene with detachment, decided he had had enough of this pathetic little drama. The tears in the girl's eyes confirmed that the moment had come. He placed a hand on Sofia’s back, and his face took on a surprisingly gentle expression, "Don’t chase after those who are ready to leave you behind, Sofia. True affection isn’t begged for, it’s recognized."

Vanessa fell silent all of a sudden, her lips pressed together in a sudden hush.

Robert watched Sofia as she wiped her tears with the sleeves of her shirt, a childlike gesture that made her seem even more fragile.

"Thanks for the clarification," she said, with a hint of sarcasm that tried to mask the wound.
She didn’t say anything more. She turned slowly and began walking in the opposite direction, beside Jason. Her gaze was downcast, her steps unsure, and not for a single moment did she dare hope that anyone would stop her.

Jason turned toward the group for just a moment, and in that instant, Robert caught something: a barely noticeable grin on the toymaker's lips. A subtle, amused expression. He had won.
That was the point of no return. The moment when the cracks became a fracture.

 

Two whole bags of candy and even three cotton candies hadn’t been enough to lift Sofia’s spirits. She kept dwelling on Vanessa’s words, sinking deeper into her darkest silence.
She wandered among the stalls like an automaton with a broken heart: lifeless eyes, dragging steps, an aura of sugary melancholy. She didn’t speak, didn’t laugh, didn’t even comment on the most bizarre stalls. But every now and then, she’d stop. For half a second, she’d look at a tray of candies or a cone of melted chocolate—and that was enough.

Jason, walking beside her in silence, seemed to have a radar. A brief glance from her, and he'd buy the unspoken treat, handing it to her with the ease of someone who knew exactly what she needed.

She’d take them, murmur a barely audible "thank you," and then devour them as if she were part of a secret speed-eating competition.

Following Sofia’s silent wandering, they eventually ended up sitting on a bench in a quieter corner. Far from the laughter and shouts of children, in a spot illuminated by the yellow light of a lone streetlamp on a nearly deserted sidewalk.

Sofia sighed, her eyes fixed on her shoes, as if the ground had suddenly become the only thing worthy of her attention.

Jason, on the other hand, stared at the candy packet he had bought before their meeting, without having eaten a single piece.

Before he could finish the sentence, Sofia snatched it from his hands, an automatic move, without even a hint of hesitation.

Jason looked at her, slightly surprised. "Okay..."

The toymaker, as if he had seen the future, shifted just slightly, as if fearing Sofia might devour him with the same hunger she had shown for the sweets.

"Did you notice?" Jason’s voice was low, almost a whisper. "When you left, no one called after you. No one followed you." He paused, then added with a chilling calm, "That says a lot, don't you think?"

He talked about what had happened before, digging into the still fresh wound with ruthless clarity. He had managed to push her away, yes, but his work was not yet finished.

“They could have reached you. Stopped you. But they didn’t.” Jason’s words fell like sharp blades, but his tone remained calm, almost caring.

Sofia didn’t respond. She remained silent, her gaze lost in the void, while inside her, something tightened.

For Jason, it was like spreading salt on an open wound. He did it calmly, with precision, with that calculated cunning that allowed him to never seem truly cruel. In his eyes, he was merely the voice of truth. In her eyes, perhaps he was even a comfort.

Sofia looked at him and, maybe for a brief moment of clarity amidst the chaos, found the courage to ask him: “Why are you here? You don’t even know me.”

"Yet today, I’ve been more present than those who called you 'friend.' Am I right?" Then, he looked ahead. "Anyone who needs to chase after the affection of others hasn't yet understood their own worth. Let them figure out what they've lost."

There was no anger in the toy maker's tone, only a ruthless objectivity. And that’s exactly what made it hurt. More than Sofia was ready to admit.

Sofia resumed eating the candies, this time without the desperate hunger from before. Every now and then, she’d pause, sigh, and then go back to chewing slowly, as if she were piecing herself back together.
“I’d like to visit your shop,” she said suddenly, with an unexpectedly natural tone.
Jason smiled faintly, without turning to look at her. “You’re not ready yet.”

Sofia turned to face him, her brows furrowing just slightly. “Why?” But then she continued, “Anyway, I’d like to. I want to see it.”

Jason, always so precise in his actions and words, caught that sudden, almost naive urgency as something off-key. It wasn’t part of the script he had written. He had always calculated everyone’s reactions, even his own. But that request, so direct, caught him off guard.

Just for a moment, something in him wavered.

Jason turned slowly toward her. His expression was mild, almost kind—but behind that mask, he was calculating.

God, how he hated the unexpected.

“I suppose I have no other choice,” he said, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Trust me… you’ll like it.”

 

 

Sofia believed she had made a choice, but some choices don’t truly belong to the ones who make them. Jason wasn’t in a hurry: cracks open best when no one hears the sound.

This wasn’t the beginning of a story. It was the beginning of an end.