Please do pay attention to the chapter titles. I don’t put them in the main title, because then it looks sloppy and bleh (I have OCD, okay?). The real chapter title is the grey font next to the large pencil (as shown below the dashed line). There’s a pattern in the title of the chapters that I’d like you guys to notice. Thanks. :)

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❝Chapter One

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✎Her Window

“More.”

“But you already—“

“More, please.” Luhan gave the twenty-two-year-old woman a look that obviously scared her with the way she scrambled to her feet and prepared him another bowl of steaming hot ramen. He didn’t even give her a thank you when she handed it to him, and within seconds handed her the empty bowl. “More.” She raised a brow, crossing her arms. When he didn’t hear a response, his head shot up and his eyes locked hers. “More please,” he demanded menacingly, narrowing his eyes at her. He both heard and saw her swallow hard. She nodded and silently threw another pack of ramen into the pot still hot on the stove (she had a feeling she shouldn’t have turned it off). She spent a minute or two simply pondering on what to do in this kind of situation.

Today was Monday. Just a normal, boring Monday. And every Monday night, Lee Eunyoung spent a good hour of her life watching her favorite historical drama Book of the House of Gu. She was supposed to have gone to her friend’s house for a sleepover, but she decided she would much rather spend her life hidden under ten pounds of blankets on the couch all alone in the dark. Yeah, total loser, I know. But, hey, it was a darn good drama.

Why can’t my life have more action like that? She made a face at the screen, envying how . . . adventurous it was. She had the same boring, dull routines every week: attend her classes, do her assignments, and go to work. It was all so . . . bleh. A blank canvas—that was her life. And when she asked for more “action,” she meant a little excitement, maybe some romance. Not some random hot guy jumping through her window.

“Holy fu—“ Eunyoung fell from the couch, half-screaming, half-gasping. She had her hands gripping the blanket over her head as the glass splattered all over her, thankfully not cutting her (she had a feeling it’d be good to use lots of blankets). She breathed heavily as she placed a shaky hand over her chest. She felt like she was in the middle of a panic attack, her quick and short breaths, her raging pulse, her pounding heart. She didn’t know whether she should crawl under the table and hide, or stand up to look at whatever the hell just flew through her window.

As a human, curiosity came natural to her and her head slowly peeked out from under her blankets. She crawled quietly up the couch, and screamed when she saw a dimly lit silhoutte, and the man stumbled back in shock at her screeching voice.

“Aw, geez.” He put one hand over his heart and flicked the lightswitch on with his other. “You scared me.” He heaved out a sigh of relief, not noticing how her eyes were widening in horror.

“What are you—?! How did you—?! Why did you—?! My window!!!!” she squeaked loudly, throwing herself so abruptly onto the couch that she almost jumped over it and fell on the ground. Just like how he wasn’t really paying attention to her earlier, she wasn’t paying attention to him now, not seeing how he was rubbing his ears after hearing her loudness.

“You have,” he said slowly, “quite a . . . wide vocal range, I see. Or I hear.” He couldn’t help the frown on his face; his enhanced hearing made everything almost twice as loud, an issue he wanted to talk up with the scientists, but never had the chance. “Hey, you got any food?” he asked nonchalantly, wincing as he pulled sharp shards of blood-covered glass out of his arms, and her eyes bulged in shock.

“You—! Blood—! Glass—!”

“Do you speak in complete sentences or do you just—what is that delicious smell?” His mouth watered reflexively as his nose sniffed the air. Her brows furrowed as she gawked at him while she watched him go into her kitchen, picking up her forgotten half-finished bowl of ramen on the table. “What are these things?” He looked weirdly at the chopsticks, picking them up and examining them. Before she could question his intelligence, he tossed them aside, lifted the bowl, and slurped up all the noodles, not caring for the soup dripping down his chin and wetting his dirt-covered t-shirt that was all tattered and covered with blood. She found it funny how his hair color matched the color of the dried blood on his clothes. Twigs and grass decorated his tousled hair while dirt and sweat speckled his handsome face, indicating that he had been in the outdoors—running, perhaps.

“Your cuts,” she blurted as she stumbled into the kitchen, her walking unsteady due to the shock. To be honest, the thought of helping with his injuries didn’t even cross into her mind. There were really only two things she could think of right now:

a.)   call the damn mental hospital to get this crazy locked up before he could jump through other people’s windows randomly.

b.)   run away screaming. I mean, it wasn’t every freaking day filthy (but y) guys jumped through her window. He seemed a bit too calm—too relaxed—for a guy who had just jumped through glass on the fourth floor of an apartment complex, and was all covered in blood.

Oh God. Blood. There was so much blood splattered all over his ripped shirt, his baby face, his muscular but slightly thin arms. Yet . . . he had no cuts, no open wounds (except for the ones he just got now, but, crazy enough, they were disappearing). Somehow, she had a feeling that most of the blood on him wasn’t his own, giving her more of a reason to call the police.

“Look, I’m not here to hurt you.”

She jumped at his voice. It sounded so stern, almost like he was snapping at her, but underneath that façade lied sincerity. Maybe it was the fact she trusted too easily, or that she was really gullible, but she believed him.

“I just . . . need a place to stay,” he said carefully, quietly.

“Uh-huh.” She crossed her arms, her brows raised in suspicion. “And exactly how long do you plan on stayin’?”

“Are you a vegetarian?” he asked abruptly, and she jumped at his rude tone, wincing as he slammed the emptied bowl of ramen onto her pink and white checkered tablecloth. “Where’s all the damn meat at?” he asked sharply, narrowing his eyes to intimidate her, and her brows knitted in irritation.

“Okay. Look here, mister,” she snapped, surprising him with her sudden change in character. “You can’t just come into my apartment, uninvited, through my window—“ She took a moment to jab her finger furiously at the broken glass. “—and use me as your—“

“Found the meat. Thanks,” he suddenly said. Her head snapped from her broken window to him, and she gasped in horror as he devoured a thick slab of raw meat he had ripped from a package he had gotten from the freezer half of her silver refridgerator adorned with neatly aligned post-it notes.

“Th-that’s disgusting!” she shrieked, her eyes once again popping out as he pulled another steak out from the package. He looked at her with the red meat held right in front of his opened mouth, and paused for a moment, blinking slowly.

“Want some?” He held it out to her, some loose blood dripping onto her swirls of pinkish marble tiles, and she shuddered in horror.

“N-no thanks.” She watched him shrug before shoving the meat into his mouth, making her gag a little. It definitely was not healthy to be eating raw meat like this! There could be bacteria, bacteria that needed to be cooked out and—ugh. She subtly shook her head in disapproval, studying him as he (without her permission) pulled out more packages of meat, ripping them open with his claws.

Yes. Claws. She had to look twice to check if she was seeing properly, and even pinched herself, but yep, those were real claws. Sharp. Pointed. Dirty. “You need to wash your hands!” she suddenly squeaked loudly, making him flinch almost. He blinked at her, and when he reached for another slab she slapped his hand away. “Wash. Your damn. Hands.” Her tone was so threatening that Luhan didn’t even wait half a second before turning around. He remembered what these were. They were called “sinks,” apparently. At the laboratory, he had seen some scientists washing their hands at these areas. He studied in thought, trying to recall how they turned this silver device on, when Eunyoung twisted the left knob, making cold water pour out from the nozzle. Oh. He cleared his throat, trying to act cool as he ignored the “judging you” look she was giving him. He flicked his hands just once, and his claws immediately retracted.

“What the—? How did you—?” She stared at him in shock while he washed his hands with water. When he reached out to turn it off, she quickly slapped his hand, surprising him yet again. “You have to use soap.” He rolled his eyes, questioning what this “soap” was. Like with how she helped him turn on the water, she helped him again by squeezing a few big drops of green liquid into his dirt-speckled hands.

He dazedly followed her motion of rubbing her hands, and then placed his hands under the water when she told him to do so. After she finally gave him his approval of cleaning his hands well enough, he wiped his hands with the paper towels she gave him. Before he could reach for the meat, though, she said, “You smell terrible,” making him freeze. He casually sniffed his armpits. He smelled of fresh mud, pine trees, and wild animals. Basically, he smelled of the great outdoors.

“Really?” He blinked at her. “I think I smell pretty normal.” He shrugged, thinking about his friends back at the laboratory who also smelled this way. She raised a brow, mentally questioning his definition of “normal,” because, in her opinion, nothing about this . . . beastly man was normal. He jumped through her window on the fourth floor for crying out loud. Who in their right mind would do something like that? No. Who even had the power to do something like that?

“So. Um.” She cleared as he started to eat again. “How long are you planning on staying here?” she asked for the second time. She immediately began cleaning the mess he made, and he shrugged as he started rummaging through her fridge (despite her telling him not to look through her fridge).

“Just a few months.” He shrugged again as she choked on the air. “Or maybe years . . . . ” he mumbled that part so she wouldn’t hear. “You’re out of meat by the way,” he said, easily changing the subject.

“Oh yeah?” She raised a brow as she washed the bowl. “And whose fault is that, exactly, huh?” He blinked before giving her a lopsided grin that she honestly found really attractive.

“Yours.”

“E-excuse me?” She almost dropped the bowl, taken aback by his unexpected answer. “You’re the one who ate it all! Raw, might I add.”

“You’re the one who let me eat all,” he fired back, smirking when he saw her lips purse. She didn’t verbally admit defeat, too prideful for that, but simply changed the subject.

“Go take a shower.” She put the bowl in the dishwasher, and wet a rag to wipe the table. He blinked at her again, tilting his head as he closed her fridge.

“What’s a shower?”

“Oh dear God.” She stopped herself from face-palming as she half-sighed, half-groaned. With quick speed she turned around to meet eyes with him. She glared at him to see if he was joking or not, but he stared back at her with eyes as innocent as a deer in headlights. “You really don’t—“ She stopped and sighed. “It’s when you . . . get yourself cleaned with water and soap and all that.” She waved her hand dismissively before pointing down the hallway. “It’s the first door on your left.”

“Okay.” He walked away and she snorted to herself.

“Does that idiot even know left from right?” She spoke so quietly that it was just impossible for any human to hear her, especially at the distance she was with Luhan. He proved her wrong, though.

“Yes I do! The scientists taught me!” he shouted before closing the bathroom door, and her face turned red in embarrassment. Scientists? She shrugged off his comment, and continued to disinfect her kitchen from the trails of dirt and mud he brought with him when he jumped through her window. Whew, thank goodness she always had a box of disinfecting wipes stashed in every cabinet of every room in the apartment. With a short exhale, she trudged on over to the window after slipping her sandals on so that she wouldn’t get cut. She swiftly swept up all the glass, and then carefully picked up the shards caught in the carpet. When she finished, she looked up at her window, frowning at how there was no longer any glass shielding it.

Her neighbors had swung by immediately after the crash, and she simply lied saying she accidentally dropped a few plates, getting them out of the way quickly so that she could deal with that stranger eating her ramen in the kitchen.

It was too late to call for any repairman, so she covered a blanket over the window, pinning it at all four corners. At least that would keep people from seeing inside. It was hot anyway, so she didn’t mind the breeze coming through. Just as she was admiring the perfectly straightened blanket that she had hung up, she heard a loud yelp. Eyes wide, she hastily rushed to the bathroom, flinging the door open. “What’s wro—“

“It’s cold! It’s cold!” Luhan shrieked, jumping up and down in the shower. To be honest, she didn’t know whether to be thankful that he was fully clothed or not. She had to admit, he had a pretty nice . She had checked it out earlier while he was washing his hands. Yes, she looked at his . Sue her. But, hey, it wasn’t her fault his muddy black jeans were sagging and revealing his green plaid boxers (and green was her favorite color, how nice).

But, anyway, right now she couldn’t help but wonder why the hell he was wearing clothes in the freaking shower. “Make it stop! Make it stop!” he shouted, snapping her out of her thoughts. She tried hard not to, but eventually burst out laughing. It was pretty damn hilarious watching him jump around with his hands trying to block the water from being sprayed at his face as he choked on the water shooting into his mouth. “Wh-why are you just standing there?! Turn the damn thing off!” His demanding voice knocked her senses back into her, and she quickly rushed over before twisting the knob to the left, making the water slowly stop coming. He heaved a sigh of relief, plopping onto the wet shower floor. He was utterly exhausted after defending himself from the razor-like darts of waters attacking him. Whew. That was hard work indeed.

“How’d you even manage to turn it on?” She rolled her eyes, snorting at him, and he shot her a cold glare that made her shut up. He pointed behind her, and when she turned around she saw the silver arrow imprinted into the wall, right above the nozzle, directing which way to turn it for the water to come on. “Oh.” She turned back to him, her brows raised as she stiffened a laugh. “It took you ten minutes to just figure out how to turn it on?” He stared at her with his head tilted so much that it looked like his neck would snap, and his eyes grew in size as he gaped at her.

“How long was it supposed to take?” Luhan asked so innocently that she couldn’t help but smile.

“Okay, first off,” she held a hand out to him which he gladly accepted and used to stand up, “you’re not supposed to enter the shower with your clothes on.” He blinked at her, and then nodded in understanding before he so swiftly lifted his shirt off and tossed it to a random corner of the rectangular shower. “N-not right now!!!” Eunyoung squealed as she harshly slapped her hands over her eyes when he started ping his pants. He stopped, tilting his head up to look at her. “You ha-have to wait until I l-leave.”

“Ohhh. Okayyy.” He nodded frantically, completely understanding, and took his hands off his pants.

“Okay . . . . ” She peeked through her fingers and her eyes instinctively traveled down his broad chest to his chiseled abs. Her ears reddened underneath her locks of straight honey brown hair as she looked back at his face. She ended up spending the next ten minutes telling him how to use soap, how to shampoo his hair, how to dry off with the towel, how to brush his teeth, etc. When she asked him if he ever showered before, he only shrugged.

“They always did it for me, I guess, while I was . . . asleep.” He was extremely cautious with his wording, she could tell, and there was something in his tone that she couldn’t exactly quite put her finger on. Something like sadness, perhaps? Or, maybe, fear, with the way his voice trembled at each word? Or hatred, with the way his words stung her even though they weren’t directed at her? But there was something . . . off about him, and she knew that ever since the second she saw him with cuts on his body caused by the glass he landed on—cuts that healed almost instantaneously when he pulled out the shards.