Chapter 4: The One Wrapped in Tape

The air was thick with tension as Bunnyman stared up at her—this strange woman wrapped in silver tape, crouched like a cat on the edge of the rooftop. Her lips curled into a grin, dangerous and playful all at once.

"You're cuter up close," she purred, her voice sweet but soaked in trouble. "They call me Tape Girl. Well—you just did. Guess you're not the creative type."

Bunnyman didn't move. He was reading her. Studying her. Every inch of tape that shimmered under the moonlight, every twitch of her fingers, every bounce in her voice.

"You work for the dealership?" he asked, voice cold and steady.

She tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Now why ruin the mystery? I could be anyone. Just a girl in tape… or the glue holding something bigger together." She winked. "But don't expect a straight answer. That'd be boring."

And then she moved.

Tape snapped from her wrists like whips, slicing through the air. Bunnyman barely dodged as it wrapped around a nearby chimney and yanked her toward him like a missile. She came in spinning, kicking—playful but lethal.

Bunnyman blocked, countered, ducked. She was faster than she looked. Not as strong, but smart. Slippery. She fought like a dancer with blades for toes and tape for claws.

"You've been sniffing around the wrong garages, Bunny boy," she said, lashing out again. "That makes you interesting. Dangerous, even."

He landed a punch that grazed her ribs, but she laughed.

"Not bad. You almost impressed me."

The fight stretched across rooftops—momentum shifting but never settling. He couldn't pin her down. She didn't fight to win. She fought to play.

After a while, she flipped backward and landed perfectly on the ledge of a rusted billboard. Moonlight painted her like a comic book villainess, striking and unreal.

"I'm done for tonight," she said, brushing invisible dust off her shoulder. "But since I like you, I'll share a little secret."

She pulled a folded card from somewhere under the tape and tossed it. It floated down like a feather and landed at his feet.

"Skull Mask. That's what you called him, right?" she said with a teasing smile. "Let's just say… you'll find something fun there."

He didn't pick up the card.

"Why give me this?"

She leaned forward, balancing on her toes.

"Because watching you march into hell sounds delightful."

Before he could move, she launched herself into the night, tape stretching and snapping with impossible grace. Within seconds, she was gone. Only the wind and her laughter remained.

Bunnyman stood there for a long time, staring at the card on the ground.

He didn't chase her.

He didn't head to the location.

Instead, he turned away.

The apartment was quiet when he got home. A faint light glowed from the kitchen, humming like a lullaby. His sister lay on the couch, fast asleep, a blanket tangled around her legs and an empty bowl of noodles on the table.

He placed his mask on the counter. The silence was heavy, but familiar.

He moved quietly, picked up the bowl, turned off the light.

Then, he sat down across from her, just watching. Her chest rose and fell, her face peaceful, untouched by the world he fought in.

Two years ago, he made a promise to protect her. Not just from people—but from truth. From pain. From the city.

From Devil's Side.

He didn't sleep that night. He never does.