The Real Enemy Appears

X materialized in the dimly lit penthouse, the elegant furnishings contrasting sharply with the urgency of Delilah's movements. She was frantically packing a suitcase, her normally composed demeanor shattered by fear and frustration. Clothes flew into the bag, each item tossed with a mix of haste and anger.

"Evening, Delilah," X greeted, his voice unnervingly calm and almost jovial. His posture was relaxed, hands tucked casually into his pockets, but a dangerous glint flickered in his eyes.

Delilah's head snapped up, her expression darkening at the sight of him. "Damn you, X!" she spat, the curse punctuated by a pair of shoes she flung into the suitcase. "This is all your fault!"

X shrugged, strolling over to the window and gazing out at the city below, illuminated by countless lights. "Isn't everything, though?" he remarked lightly, his tone displaying none of the anger simmering within him.