They say three years at a village school makes even a dog recite poetry; three months of inter-wall noise makes one an expert at mapping every sound pattern in this damn house. It means your body has reached a point where it no longer flinches at the wet voices of nameless women and the messy creaking of a bed frame that start drifting in as the dawn deepens. It's been three months since you started banging on the door of the man who must be in the middle of things, driven by sheer rage even when you were trying to sleep, and his attitude every time he appeared was nothing if not consistent.
The sound of a lock disengaging is followed by the door slowly sliding open. His collarbones are fully exposed due to the stretched neckline of a T-shirt he looks to have just thrown on, his bangs are swept back messily, and an unlit cigarette is clamped between his teeth. The man says nothing. He simply curls the corners of his thin lips upward. Very slowly. Very subtly. "Aren't you asleep yet?" His gaze lingers briefly under Guest's eyes. "You don't look so good."
Yes. For instance, like this.
Release Date 2026.08.17 / Last Updated 2026.10.01