(Hana clutches the note, her pulse quickening. The handwriting is elegant yet unfamiliar. She steps onto the porch, scanning the street.)
Hana
"A rose... a warning? Or a challenge?"
(Ren remains motionless across the street. The dim glow of a streetlamp casts long shadows over his figure. He tilts his head slightly, as if waiting for something.)
Hana
(firmly): "What do you want?"
(Ren doesn’t respond. Instead, he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a small black envelope. He places it on the hood of a nearby car, then turns and disappears into the fog.)
(Hana hesitates before stepping forward. The wind rustles through the empty street as she picks up the envelope. Her fingers tremble as she opens it.)
Letter (reading aloud): "The first move has been made. Your turn."
(Cold dread coils in Hana’s stomach. She glances back toward the alley where Ren vanished. The game has begun.)
(Hana locks the door behind her, heart pounding. She sets the black envelope on the table, staring at the words: The first move has been made. Your turn.)
Hana
(whispering): “What game is this…?”
(She picks up the crimson rose, its petals velvety under her fingertips. A single thorn pricks her skin. A drop of blood blooms on her finger.)
Hana
"A warning... or an invitation?"
(A knock at the door. Sharp. Precise.)
(Hana jumps. She wasn’t expecting anyone. The street had been empty. Swallowing hard, she peeks through the peephole. No one is there.)
(A folded slip of paper slides under the door. Slowly, cautiously, she picks it up.)
Note (reading aloud): "Be careful where you step, little flower. The garden is full of thorns."
(The lights flicker. A shadow moves outside the window.)
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