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For days, Rachel Lei had felt it—a prickle on the back of her neck, the sensation of eyes tracking her every move from the periphery of her vision. It started as a vague unease, but it soon evolved into a certainty. Every time she turned a corner or glanced into a shop window, she caught a glimpse of a shadow that vanished too quickly, a silhouette that seemed to mirror her every step. The arrogance she usually wore like armor was beginning to crack, replaced by a cold, gnawing paranoia. She had finally had enough. One evening, while walking through the sprawling, dim corridors of the local park, she stopped abruptly and spun around. "I know you're there!" she screamed, her voice echoing through the trees. "Show yourself, you coward!"