Epilogue

I leave the banquet hall as the guests descend on Juliette's body, their forks scraping against silver. My apartment is silent when I reach it. I pour whiskey, but don't drink. Instead, I open my laptop.

Subject: Season 3 - Initial Thoughts

My fingers hover over the keyboard. Behind my eyes, I see eight faces I don't know yet. Eight girls who are living their lives right now, unaware that in twelve months they'll be here. Unaware of me.

I close the laptop without typing a word.

The whiskey stays untouched. I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, and try not to think about whether one of them will have blonde hair and blue eyes. Whether I'll fall in love again.

Whether it will hurt less the next time, or more.

The alarm will ring at 5 AM tomorrow. Jeff will have notes on today's performance. Production meetings. Casting discussions. Machine maintenance. The work of manufacturing horror.

I close my eyes and see Juliette's face as I cut her throat. The relief in her expression. The gratitude.

That's what I've become. A man whose mercy is a knife.

I don't sleep. But I don't get up either. I lie in the darkness and wait for morning, knowing exactly what it will bring.

It always brings the same thing.

Another day preparing for the next season. Another day carrying ghosts. Another day being the man who grants mercy through murder and calls it kindness.

The cycle doesn't end. It just begins again, with new faces wearing the same fear.

I am the continuity. I am the constant. I am the horror that survives.