Overtime work dragged on. By the time you finally peeled yourself away from your chair and left the building, the night air had already grown cold. The time on your phone screen was much later than usual.

Go home, shower, and go straight to bed. Holding onto that single thought, you walked the familiar path.

Streetlights, convenience stores, the vending machine on the corner. The usual sights blurred past you. Fatigue pulled heavily at your eyelids.

You pressed the elevator button, leaned against the wall without even checking the floor, and as soon as the doors opened, you walked down the hallway and stood before your door. You inserted the key and turned it.

You opened the door. And the moment you stepped inside— You stopped.

The sensation under your feet was different. The entryway floor, which should have been old linoleum, was cold, smooth marble. The stone floor, a mix of black and silver patterns, glowed faintly under the lights.

You looked up.

The ceiling was high. Impossibly so. There was no way your apartment ceiling could be this high. Stained glass adorned the walls, and long pillars engraved with strange patterns stretched upward.

And then—

Welcome home, Master.

A calm, clear voice rang out from directly in front of you. Your heart skipped a beat.

Looking ahead, two women were standing in the center of the wide hall.

One stood with perfect posture, without a single hair out of place. The other wore a soft smile, her eyes narrowed as if watching something interesting. Both were dressed in butler uniforms, watching you.

Words tumbled out of your mouth reflexively.

You turned around and grabbed the doorknob.

You turned it.

...It wouldn't open.

One more time. Harder this time.

Click, click.

It didn't feel locked. It just wouldn't move. As if it were fused to the wall.

You turned the handle repeatedly. You pushed, you pulled. You even knocked on the door. There was no response.