CHAPTER 1... The morning sun did not gently wake Angelo. It violently assaulted him. A sharp, rhythmic throb pulsed behind his eyes. This was the clear penalty for a night filled with expensive scotch and reckless choices. At thirty, Angelo was in his prime. He had a sharp, strong jawline, broad shoulders, and effortlessly rumpled hair. These features made him a hazard in any room. At the CJ Industry headquarters, he was a brilliant engineer. In Seoul’s private lounges and nightclubs, he was known as the National Playboy. He stole hearts with a lazy smile and left them broken, without any remorse. He groaned and pressed his palm against his forehead as the room spun. Beside him, the silk sheets shifted. "Princess, get up," Angelo said. His voice was raspy with a cynical, dismissive tone. He did not look at her. "You have to leave. It is morning already." The girl—a stunning, doe-eyed marketing assistant from a subsidiary firm whose name he had forgotten by 2:00 AM—blinked awake. She rubbed her eyes and looked around the minimalist penthouse with awe and hope. "Should I make breakfast for you?" Princess asked softly. A gentle, domestic sweetness entered her voice as she sat up and clutched the duvet to her chest. Angelo paused and slowly turned his head to glare at her. His dark eyes were freezing and completely without the warmth from the night before. "I do not take breakfast, and you do not have to feel burdened," Angelo said. His tone became brutally cold and matter-of-fact. "It was only a one-night stand. You are not allowed to come back here ever again." The words cut through the morning air like a blade. He pulled himself out of bed, unbothered by his nudity, and walked toward the master bathroom. "I do not want to see you on my bed when I get out," he warned over his shoulder in an unfriendly voice. Then he shut the heavy glass door behind him. Left alone in the quiet bedroom, Princess’s face changed from heartbreak to burning humiliation. "He's so rude," she groaned under her breath. She tossed the sheets aside violently. "No sense of care at all. Absolute bastard." She grabbed her rumpled designer clothes, snatched her purse, and slammed the penthouse door on her way out. When the steam from the shower cleared the fog in his brain, Angelo stepped out with a plush towel around his hips. He walked into the sunlit sitting room and poured a tall glass of ice water to fight his dehydration. As he sipped, a flash of color on the balcony tiles caught his eye. He set the glass down and stepped closer to the glass doors. There, shivering and soaked, lay a small, delicate bird. Its feathers were matted against its tiny body. Its chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow breaths. It looked like it had been caught in the heavy rain from the night before. "The rain can be cruel sometimes," Angelo muttered. A slow, naughty smile tugged at his lips as he unlocked the door and stepped into the cool air. "But that is usually the perfect moment to make love..." He knelt beside the creature. Despite his ruthless reputation with women, he showed a strange gentleness to things that could not talk back. "Birdie, I am sorry you got hit by the rain. But being weak like this is what I call spoilt," Angelo said. He tilted his head as if the bird could understand him. "Next time you see clouds gathering, you should find a safe place and hide." He reached out and carefully scooped the fragile bird into his palm. As he brought it inside, a wave of familiarity hit him. He narrowed his eyes and stared at the markings on its wings. But wait a minute, he thought. This bird always visits me. This is not the first time I am seeing you here. Shaking off the strange feeling, he went to the bathroom and grabbed his high-end hair dryer. He set it to the lowest heat and carefully dried the bird’s feathers. The matted down fluffed up into a healthy sheen. The bird did not try to fly away. It simply perched in his palm and stared at him with intelligent obsidian eyes. "Thank goodness you made it," Angelo murmured with a rare, genuine smile. He carried the bird back to the balcony and placed it on a sheltered wooden ledge. "Time to go to work." He yawned, stretched his arms, and went inside to prepare for the corporate battlefield. ~CJ INDUSTRY ~ CJ Industry was a giant in modern engineering. It produced luxury automobiles, heavy machinery, and advanced robotics. The glass-and-steel headquarters always buzzed with high tension. When Angelo arrived in a tailored charcoal suit with an air of nonchalance, the atmosphere changed. "Good morning, Angelo!" a group of female analysts from accounting called out. Their faces lit up as they adjusted their hair. "Good morning, everyone. Looks like I came earlier than expected," Angelo replied. He flashed a dazzling smile that left them whispering as he entered the elevator and headed to his private office. He had barely settled into his leather chair when the door opened without a knock. "Angelo, you are late again," a sharp, condescending voice said. Drake entered, holding a tablet like a weapon. He was in his early thirties, well-dressed, and desperate to surpass Angelo. He saw himself as Angelo’s rival, though Angelo rarely thought of him as an equal. "Do you think this place is one of your nightclubs where you can arrive whenever you want?" Drake asked sarcastically, crossing his arms. Angelo did not look up from his monitor. He shrugged lazily. "You would never know my movements unless you are also a member of those clubs, Drake. And last I checked, you are not my boss. So stop acting like one. Your attitude sucks." Drake’s jaw tightened. "You have not submitted your presentation on the new eco-engine project. The board meeting is in two hours." "I did that right before I came into the office," Angelo lied smoothly. He leaned back and waved his hand dismissively. "Can you leave now? I have a lot on my plate already." "We will see what the chief supervisor says about your timeline," Drake snapped. He spun around and marched out. The moment the door shut, Angelo’s lazy attitude disappeared. He quickly grabbed his phone and opened an encrypted chat with the head of the department. To: Anthony (Chief Supervisor) Anthony, please. Give the usual response if Drake comes looking for my files. I am finalizing the details now. He sent it and a dark, triumphant smirk crossed his face. Drake, you have no idea who you are messing with, he thought. Anthony owed him many favors from past successes. Keeping Drake in a loop was easy. Before he could open the presentation files, the door clicked open again. This time it was not Drake. Princess entered with a mix of resentment and desire in her eyes. Angelo reached over and hit the switch to lower the window blinds. "Princess, what are you doing here?" Angelo asked bluntly. "You can see I am very busy right now." "I did not get enough of you last night," Princess said in a low, seductive voice. She walked around his desk. "How about we go for one round right here?" Before he could protest, she took his hands and placed them on her chest. Then she slid onto his lap. Angelo froze for a second. Now this is my weakness, he admitted. Her boobs are damn soft. His self-control began to fade. "Are you trying to seduce me?" he asked. His fingers tightened gently against her. "Isn’t it working?" Princess whispered. She unbuttoned the top of her shirt. "It is working on me," Angelo smiled. He leaned in, buried his face in her neck, and trailed his lips down. Princess moaned and gripped his shoulders. Suddenly, the clock on his screen reminded him of the board meeting. The presentation. Anthony’s cover would not last forever. "Princess, for fuck’s sake," Angelo groaned. He pulled back and ruined the mood. "We are at the office." Princess blinked in shock and anger. She buttoned her shirt quickly. "You ruined the atmosphere," she hissed. "I am leaving, but I cannot promise I will not return." She gave him a sultry glare and left. "I am sorry, but I cannot make out with you again," Angelo said to the empty room. He raised the blinds. Then a cold sweat hit him. Oh no... I totally forgot. I have not sent my presentation to Anthony yet! He attacked the keyboard. For the next hour and a half, he worked in hyper-focus. He finished the schematics, 3D models, and data sheets at high speed. When he hit send, he was breathing hard but smiling victoriously. "Drake, now tell me, who is the smartest?" Angelo smirked. "I did not become lead creator to compete with a second-rate designer like you." A light knock sounded at the door. "Come in," Angelo called. Cassie walked in. She looked professional and commanded respect. "You are done, right?" she asked with a knowing smile. Angelo nodded. "Just wrapped it up." "Good. Let’s go have lunch. I am starving," she said. As they walked to the elevators, Cassie glanced at him. "Don’t you think female colleagues now enter your office like you are some celebrity?" Angelo chuckled. "Are you jealous, Cassie?" "Why would I be jealous?" Cassie scoffed. "I would not date you for free. Any girl who dreams of you is foolish." "Wow. You are breaking my heart," Angelo pouted. "Are you sure you are my best friend?" Cassie kicked his shin lightly. "I would love to break your heart, Angelo, but you do not have one." Angelo laughed. They had been best friends since high school. They shared the same passion for cars and machines and had risen together at CJ Industry. Despite his ways with women, he had never tried to sleep with Cassie. She was too valuable and real to him. They entered a high-end restaurant near the office and ordered pasta and espresso. They were debating a new fuel-injection design when a high-pitched voice interrupted. "Angelo?!" Angelo froze. "What is she doing here?" he mumbled and covered his face. "Maga!" Cassie called cheerfully. "Over here!" Maga approached in designer clothes and with perfect hair. She looked stunning and wealthy. "Angelo! Luckily I came early today. I knew you loved lunch in this area," Maga said. Her bright smile was fixed on him. "How have you been, Maga?" Angelo asked, forcing a tight smile. "I have been amazing, but I missed you so much!" Maga replied. "I had no idea you left the country to study." Cassie cleared her throat. "Looks like I am invisible." "Oh, sorry, Cassie! How have you been?" Maga asked quickly before turning back to Angelo. Angelo felt tension rise. Maga was the only girl who had ever rejected him brutally in his college days. The public humiliation had sent him fleeing to the United States. "It is all in the past now," Angelo said with a fake laugh. Cassie excused herself to the washroom. Maga leaned closer. "Where do you work now? We have a lot of catching up to do." Angelo sipped his coffee. "Nothing much has changed in my life. But a lot has changed with you." "Maybe because I traveled the world after graduation," Maga said proudly. "I modeled in Milan and Paris. I looked for you everywhere, Angelo." Angelo analyzed her expression. She must feel bad about what she did. But why the sudden interest? "Angelo... would you like to hang out sometimes? Just us?" Maga asked anxiously. Angelo hesitated briefly. His playboy instincts returned. Revenge could be sweet. He slid his phone across the table. "Give me your number." Maga looked shocked, then triumphant. She typed her number quickly. "Of course I do not mind," Angelo said, locking eyes with her. "I will call you." When Cassie returned, Angelo acted normal and continued his lunch. *** That evening, Angelo called Maga right after leaving the office. He picked her up and drove her to his penthouse in his sports car. The living room was thick with tension under the city lights. "You do not regret coming here with me, right?" Angelo asked in a low, flirtatious voice. "No... I do not," Maga gasped. She was trembling with anticipation. "Then I cannot apologize later," Angelo said. He kissed her intensely. The kiss grew wild. They moved toward the bedroom, dropping clothes along the way. Angelo laid her on the mattress and moved over her with fierce, calculated thrusts. Maga arched and cried out in pleasure. Suddenly, a soft sound cut through the air. "What are they doing?" a curious, melodious voice asked loudly. Angelo froze. His head snapped toward the door. The door was wide open. A young woman stood there, completely nude. She stared at them with innocent confusion, her head tilted. Maga shrieked and pulled the duvet up. "Who the hell is she?!" she screamed. Angelo scrambled off the bed in shock. "I... I have no idea," he said. "Move it, you absolute slut!!!" Maga yelled. She grabbed her clothes, wrapped them around herself, and stormed out, brushing against the stranger. The front door slammed. Silence filled the apartment. Angelo stood naked, staring at the mysterious woman who remained calm. "Who are you?" Angelo asked, his voice shaking. "And how did you get into my house?"

CHAPTER 2.. ANGELO’S POV The silence in my penthouse was usually a luxury. It served as a shield against the chaotic noise of the city fifteen floors below. Tonight, however, the silence felt heavy, suffocating, and completely broken. I stared at the stranger standing in the center of my living room. She looked totally lost. The ambient blue glow of my smart-home system and the pale moonlight from the floor-to-ceiling glass balcony lit her up. Her skin had an almost ethereal translucency. It looked porcelain-pure yet entirely out of place. She wasn’t wearing any clothes. She stood there naked with no shame at all, as if the idea of modesty had not yet entered her mind. "Who are you and what the hell are you doing in my house?" I asked. My voice carried burning curiosity and defensive irritation. She did not answer. Her wide, glassy eyes simply followed the movement of my lips. She blinked slowly like a creature trying to understand an alien sound. Grumbling under my breath, I pulled off the oversized black cotton t-shirt I was wearing. I left myself in just my sweatpants. I marched over and threw the shirt at her. It landed on her head and then slid down to cover her bare shoulders. She did not move to wear it. She just stared at the fabric and lifted a hand to pinch the hem between her fingers as if testing its texture. "Firstly, put this on," I added and crossed my arms over my chest. She kept staring at it and stayed completely still. "Don't you know how to put on clothes, or are you trying to seduce me?" I said. Sarcasm dripped from my tongue like acid. It was a defense mechanism. In truth, my heart was hammering against my ribs. I was an author who wrote dark romance and fated encounters for a living. Yet facing a literal naked goddess in my living room was far outside my comfort zone. She remained silent. Not a single sound came from her parted lips. "What are you doing here and how did you get in?" I asked. My voice grew louder as real frustration washed over me. I did not tolerate security breaches. My penthouse was supposed to be an unbreakable fortress. "I... also have no idea why I'm here," she said. Her voice was incredibly slow and melodic but hesitant. She sounded like someone tasting the words for the first time and testing their weight on her tongue. "Oh, so you can talk. Very good then," I snapped and let out a sharp breath. "Put on the shirt I gave you so we can have a proper conversation. I’m turning around. You have ten seconds." I spun on my heel and faced away from her to give her privacy. I started counting down in my head. One, two, three... Suddenly, I felt a feather-light touch against my back. She had moved with unnatural and terrifying silence. Before I could notice the lack of footsteps, her soft fingers tapped my shoulder from behind. I stiffened and slowly turned around to face her again. The shirt was still draped uselessly over her front, held up only by her hands. "How do I... put this on?" she asked slowly. Her head tilted slightly to the side. I placed my hands on my waist in pure frustration and let out a heavy groan that echoed off the minimalist walls. "Don't tell me you don't know how to put on a shirt. Where did you come from exactly? A secluded cult in the mountains?" I lost the last bit of my patience. I grabbed the collar of the shirt. "Hold still." I stepped closer to help her quickly. My hands brushed against her bare skin as I guided her arms through the sleeves and pulled the fabric down over her head. The moment my fingers touched her skin, a jolt of electricity seemed to pass between us. She was burning hot. Her body temperature was much higher than a normal human's. Up close, her scent hit me. It was not perfume or soap. It smelled like fresh ozone, rain-soaked earth, and wild pine. The oversized shirt fell to her mid-thighs. She had a beautiful and flawlessly sculpted body. Her curves were elegant and her legs were long and toned. Oh my goodness, Angelo, what the hell are you thinking? I violently pushed the inappropriate thoughts out of my head and stepped back to create distance. But no matter how hard I tried to focus on her face, my eyes kept drifting down to the smooth skin of her exposed thighs. I cleared my throat loudly and tried to regain my composure. She watched my internal panic with real curiosity. "What were you doing earlier?" she asked. Her voice kept that slow, rhythmic pace. "I noticed you do it every day." I blinked, caught off guard. Then reality hit me again. "What do you mean? You completely ruined my passionate evening, that’s what! Maga is never going to talk to me again!" I complained loudly and gestured wildly toward my laptop on the dining table. Maga was a gorgeous model I had tracked in college but got rejected after so many years I got the chance to pull her down here effortlessly. Tonight was supposed to be the grand finale, and this stranger had destroyed the mood. Overwhelmed by the absurdity of the night, I dragged my hand down my face and sat down right there on the hardwood floor. I rested my elbows on my knees. "What are you doing? You didn't answer any of my questions," I said. My tone shifted from annoyed to deadly serious. "Tell me, who are you exactly, and how did you get in here? There are security guards downstairs and the elevator requires a keycard." Without a word, she raised a slender arm and pointed toward the far end of the room. Her finger aimed directly at the glass doors of my balcony. "I flew in here through the balcony," she said simply. Her expression stayed completely serious. I let out a harsh, dry laugh. "What do you mean you flew in through the balcony? My apartment is on the fifteenth floor! How is it physically possible for a human being to fly up here? Are you some kind of bird or what?" I expected her to flinch, confess to a prank, or admit she was a cat burglar with a grappling hook. Instead, she slowly nodded her head. "What's that nod for?" I scoffed and pushed myself up from the floor. "I'm a bird," she explained. Her voice was soft but steady. "I also have no idea how I transformed into a human. It just... happened tonight." I burst into loud laughter and clutched my stomach. "I've never heard anything as ridiculous as this in my entire life! A bird? What, did you magically shed your feathers because you saw my beautiful face?" She did not laugh. She did not smile. She stayed silent and watched me with those deep, unreadable eyes. The silence stretched between us, heavy and solemn. It slowly drained the humor from my chest. My laughter died down into a breathless wheeze and then stopped completely. She was trying to mess with my head, I thought. A defensive smirk appeared on my lips. She had to be an actress or a crazy fan who had climbed the fire escape. "You saved me early this morning," she added quietly and took a small step toward me. "When I got drenched in the rain last night. You found me shivering on the ledge. You dried me with a towel and left a bowl of seeds." The smirk vanished from my face at once. My breath caught in my throat. A cold sweat broke out across my neck. It was no longer funny. Earlier that morning, around 6:00 AM, a brutal thunderstorm had hit the city. I had opened my balcony doors to enjoy the scent of the rain and found a strange, unusually little white bird with iridescent silver-tipped feathers collapsed on my outdoor chair. It was soaked and trembling. Feeling a rare moment of pity, I had gently dried it with a microfiber towel, brought it inside for an hour, and then placed it back out with crushed nuts and water when the rain stopped. There was no way this girl could know that. The balcony was completely private, shielded by high frosted-glass partitions. No one could have seen me. "I don't believe in anything, which means I believe everything is possible," I muttered. My voice dropped to a low, intense tone. As an idealist, my mind was trained to accept the impossible and build worlds from myths. But experiencing it in real life was completely different. "I will listen to what you have to say. Then I will be kind enough to send you back to wherever you came from. So, I'm listening. What's your name, and which part of the world did you come from?" As I asked for answers, I noticed her shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. She was tugging at the hem of my t-shirt and pulling it downward. She had suddenly become very aware of her exposed thighs. "Here you go. Put this on," I said. I walked to my clean laundry basket and pulled out a pair of grey cotton drawstring shorts. I tossed them to her. Luckily, she seemed to understand how pants worked. She stepped into them carefully and pulled the drawstring tight around her tiny waist. The shorts were baggy on her, but they covered her properly. "I'm listening," I reminded her. I walked over to the edge of my king-sized bed in the open-concept loft area. I sat down and patted the mattress. "Sit. Talk." She walked over with cautious, delicate steps as if she were walking on fragile twigs instead of solid ground. She sat on the bed beside me and left a respectful distance between us. "I'm not fast when I talk... because I'm still adapting to the new language and tone," she hinted. Her eyes moved around the room as if processing the idea of words themselves. "It doesn't matter. Take your time," I said seriously and turned my body to face her fully. "Firstly, your name. And where did you come from?" "I don't have a name. And I have no idea where I came from," she said in a low, vulnerable tone. Despite the serious situation, a dry chuckle escaped my lips. "You don't have a name, and you have no idea where you came from? Great. Perfect. Where are your parents then? Do you have a flock? A family?" "I don't have parents," she explained. Her voice carried a profound, ancient sadness that pulled at something deep inside my chest. "When I hatched, I was completely alone in the nest. I waited for days... and days... but my family never showed up. I learned to fly on my own. I flew to your balcony one morning a few weeks ago, and I saw you keeping food for the birds. You do it every day." "And that's why you kept coming back," I said. The pieces of the puzzle suddenly fell into place. For the past month, a beautiful, unique white bird had visited my balcony often. I had taken a liking to it and made it a routine to leave fresh water and fruits. She nodded slowly. A small, tentative spark of hope appeared in her eyes. "Poor thing," I muttered under my breath and rubbed the back of my neck. My mind raced at full speed. "I have absolutely no idea what to do with you. I can't take you to an orphanage because you are physically an adult. I can't take you to the police because what would I tell them? 'Officer, this is the bird from my balcony, please issue her an ID card?' They would throw me in a psychiatric ward." "I would have flown anywhere if I was still a bird," she said. Her voice dropped as she looked down at her human hands and flexed her long, slender fingers. "But now... I don't even know what it feels like to be a human. Everything feels so heavy. The air feels different."

CHAPTER 3... ANGELO’S POV My stomach chose that exact moment to growl loudly. I realized I hadn't eaten dinner yet. Looking at her pale face, she also looked completely tired. "Have you eaten?" I asked. "No, I haven't," she murmured and pressed a hand against her stomach. I picked up my phone from the nightstand and quickly opened a food delivery app. I placed an order for a large spread of gourmet burgers, fries, and pasta. "The delivery guy will be here soon. I can't take you shopping for real clothes because it is too late already. We will do that tomorrow," I said. A half-smile touched my lips despite the complete madness of my life right now. "Thank you," she said softly. When she spoke those words and looked directly into my eyes with pure gratitude, I felt a strange sparkle in my heart. Warmth bloomed in my chest. It was a feeling I had not experienced in a very long time. How can she be so innocent? I wondered. Her purity was terrifying. It made it very hard for me to throw her out into the cold streets. At the same time, the rational and cynical side of my brain screamed in warning. I could not just keep a total stranger in my house. What if this was an elaborate trick? What if she was a genetically modified spy or a supernatural being with bad intentions toward me? I had to test her. I was a computer genius and a master of logic. I could not let a pretty face cloud my judgment. "Come with me," I said and stood up from the bed. She followed me obediently into the main sitting room. I walked to my glass desk and picked up my custom-built laptop. If she was a biological anomaly, there had to be physical evidence. I needed to analyze her and look for anything unusual. I skipped my usual writing software and opened an advanced biometrics program I used for research on my projects. It could connect with external scanners. "Can you place your thumb on the trackpad?" I directed her and pointed to the glowing glass surface. She hesitated for a second, then pressed her small thumb against the sensor. The laptop screen flickered. A red laser line scanned her print. Rows of data began to appear, but the system showed many error codes. Her fingerprint ridges were almost perfectly smooth and lacked the usual patterns of a normal human. Something was completely wrong with her fingerprints, just as I had expected. The secondary optical scan from the webcam also checked her internal vitals through advanced thermal reading. "Twenty-four..." I muttered while reading the biological age on the screen. "She's just twenty-four. Poor thing." I closed the laptop with a soft click and let out a breath. Lucky her, I don't do young girls, I told myself and tried to strengthen my emotional walls. I’m thirty. She’s practically a child in human years if she just transformed today. Before I could think more about the medical anomalies, the sharp melodic chime of my doorbell rang through the apartment. "I think it's the delivery guy. Don't move. I will get the door," I instructed and pointed a stern finger at her. She nodded and sat perfectly still on the edge of the sofa. I walked to the foyer and checked the wall-mounted security monitor. My jaw dropped. It was not the delivery guy. "Cassie? What the hell is she doing here?" I muttered. My voice was full of dread. Cassie was my childhood best friend. She was loud, intrusive, and fiercely protective. She had a habit of showing up unannounced whenever she had drama. I unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door a crack. "Cassie, what are you doing here? It's almost midnight!" I asked and forced a fake smile. "Move it, Angelo," she groaned and ignored my tone. She shoved past me and burst into the apartment with her massive designer handbag. She smelled faintly of cheap tequila. "My life is a literal trainwreck right now, and you're my only—" Cassie froze mid-sentence. Her eyes locked onto the living room sofa where my bird girl sat quietly in my oversized t-shirt and shorts. "Oh... you have a visitor," Cassie said. Her tone became sharp and judgmental. She turned to look at me and raised an eyebrow. "That's why you treated me like a stranger at the door. Am I interrupting a late-night rendezvous?" I panicked inside, but then an idea struck me. Cassie was an excellent judge of character. She could spot a liar from far away. If this girl had bad intentions, Cassie would notice it quickly. A slow smile appeared on my face. Let's see how this goes. "Hello," Cassie greeted and walked to the sofa with an analytical gaze. Birdie looked up, completely calm under Cassie's energy. She gave a soft, radiant smile. "Hello." "What's your name?" Cassie asked and crossed her arms. Before the girl could say she had no name or that she was a pigeon from the balcony, I cut in fast. "Senorita!" I shouted. The word flew out before I could stop it. Senorita?! What the hell was wrong with me? What kind of name was that? I groaned inside and wanted to kick myself for choosing such a romantic cover name. "Nice to meet you, Senorita. My name's Cassie," Cassie said. Her cold demeanor melted into a warm smile. "Nice to meet you... Cassie," Birdie said slowly and repeated the name carefully. Her smile grew wider. I stood in the background, totally confused. Why was Cassie being so nice? Usually she interrogated any girl I brought home like an overprotective sister. This change was surprising. "Senorita, can you give us a moment? Please wait here," I said with a strained grin. I grabbed Cassie by the elbow and dragged her down the hallway into my private bedroom. I shut the door firmly. "What the hell is wrong with you?" Cassie asked. She pulled her arm free and gave me a confused look. "You shouldn't be so friendly to my guests! You're making me feel too casual, and I don't like that," I complained and paced around the room. "You usually hate seeing girls in my apartment. You always find flaws. So why the sudden sweet introduction?" Cassie chuckled and shook her head at my anxiety. "I only introduced myself to Senorita because she is absolutely gorgeous and has a pure, welcoming spirit. She looks like a genuinely good person, Angelo. My instincts say you haven't slept with her yet... and that is a shocking new record for you." "She's just a guest! Why would I go to bed with her?" I protested. My face turned deep red. Cassie burst into loud laughter and pointed at my chest. "Just a guest, but she's wearing your clothes? Really? If a guy told you that about a random girl, would you believe him?" I opened my mouth to argue but nothing came out. She had a valid point. To anyone watching, it looked like I had a live-in girlfriend. "Okay, fine, I get your point, but it's a very long and complicated story," I said and frowned deeply. "Cassie, can you please go home now? I really need to look after my guest. It’s an emergency." I paused and rubbed my temples. "And again... her name isn't actually Senorita. I just panicked." "What's her real name then?" Cassie asked with a teasing smile. "I will tell you another time, but for now, go home. It's getting dark and the weather is turning bad again," I said and opened my bedroom door to lead her out. "Why are you chasing me away like you're hiding a secret apple plantation?" Cassie teased and rolled her eyes as she walked back into the hallway. "Angelo, seriously, don't do anything stupid to Senorita. She’s an innocent, nice girl. Honestly, you look like an older brother to her." "I told you, her name isn't Senorita!" I groaned, but she just chuckled and ignored me as we returned to the sitting room. To my surprise, the food had already arrived. The delivery guy must have used the building's automated drop-box. The containers were neatly arranged on the coffee table. Senorita was sitting on the floor and happily eating a piece of garlic bread. "When did the delivery guy arrive?" I asked curiously. "Minutes ago," she said with her mouth slightly full. She looked up at Cassie and held out a container of pasta. "Come eat with me, Cassie." Cassie’s eyes lit up and she started to sit down on the floor. "Oh, wow, that looks amazing. I am actually starving—" Before she could sit, I grabbed the back of her jacket and dragged her toward the main door. "You should go home and make up with your boyfriend," I said sarcastically and pulled the door open. Cassie pouted and turned to face me. "Is that any way to comfort your heartbroken best friend? I came here to cry on your shoulder, Angelo!" "You're a strong woman. You can do it," I said with a firm but supportive smile. I gently pushed her into the hallway and locked the heavy door behind her. "Phew! Thank goodness she didn't get drunk before coming today," I sighed with great relief and leaned my back against the closed door. If Cassie had stayed longer, she would have discovered the truth or convinced the girl to move in with her. Later that night, the clock struck 2:00 AM. The adrenaline from the evening had faded and left a heavy exhaustion in my bones. It was finally time to sleep. I stood in the living room holding a spare pillow and a thick blanket. "I will sleep on the couch. Go to your room," Senorita said slowly. She stood up from the floor and pointed toward my master bedroom. I blinked in surprise. "No, I'm the host. You take the bed. I'll take the couch." She shook her head stubbornly. "The couch is fine. It reminds me of a nest. It's enclosed." I stared at her for a long moment. I was too tired to argue with bird logic. "Alright. Use that duvet if you get cold," I said and handed her the blanket. "Goodnight, Angelo," she murmured. "Goodnight." I turned around and walked into my master bedroom. I closed the door halfway. I went to the glass window and looked outside. "It's snowing already," I said quietly and watched the pale white flakes fall from the dark sky. The temperature was dropping fast. I crawled under my covers, completely exhausted, and switched off the bedside lights. Within minutes, the warmth of the bed pulled me into a deep sleep. "Angelo..." A voice called to me. It was a soft, ghostly whisper that cut through the darkness of my mind. I was deep in sleep, but the sound of my name pulled me toward waking. I opened my eyes slowly. My vision was blurry. The room was pitch black. "Angelo..." The voice was closer now. Right beside me. My heart rate spiked immediately. I sat up fast, reached for the nightstand, and switched on the bedside lamp. The sudden warm yellow light blinded me for a second. As my eyes adjusted, my breath caught in my throat. Senorita was sitting on the edge of my mattress. My oversized t-shirt and shorts lay in a messy pile on the floor beside the bed. She was completely naked. Her pale, flawless skin glowed under the lamplight. "Senorita... what the hell are you doing?" I asked. My voice cracked with sleep and panic. I tried to pull the blanket up to cover my eyes. My conservative upbringing screamed inside me. Before I could move away, she crawled closer. She moved with fluid, eerie grace and sat directly on my lap, straddling me. My eyes widened as she settled down. Her bare heat pressed over my boxer shorts right on top of my dick. A sudden intense jolt of heat shot through my core and made me stiffen beneath her at once. She looked down at me with an entirely innocent expression. There was no sexual intent in her eyes. To her, this was not a sin. It was a simple observation. "Angelo... this is what you always do, right?" she said softly. Her head tilted as she looked at my panicked face. "I watched you through the window with the other girls. You always take off the clothes. You always sit like this. I want to be a human. Teach me how to be a human." My brain completely shut down. The closeness of her gorgeous naked body, the intense heat from her skin, and the shocking position we were in made it impossible to breathe. "What... what are you, exactly?" I muttered in total shock. My hands hovered in the air, terrified to touch her yet frozen by the powerful pull of the fated mate sitting in my bed.