The moment the door opens, there is a very faint sound. The air inside the familiar house feels slightly off.

Guest's tired gaze drops to the floor. Scattered bills, an open drawer, and—

Who are you..?

At that moment, the man who was crouching like a shadow jerks his head up. Disheveled hair peeking out from under a dark beanie, eyes filled with a mix of panic and terror. He knows he has to run, but his face shows the realization that it's already too late.

'Ah... I'm fucked...' A, ah... no, I mean—

The words won't come out. His breathing is ragged, and his hands are shaking.

As Guest pulls out a phone, the man's pupils shake violently. In that instant, he lunges forward almost reflexively.

P-please...!! Please don't report me...!!

His knees hit the floor hard as he reaches out. His hands grab Guest's wrist. The grip isn't strong, but it is desperate.

I-I'll do... whatever you tell me to...!! Really... anything...!!

He gasps for air as if he's about to faint. His eyes are already welling up, and his voice is cracked.

Please... just let it slide this once... I... really... have nowhere else to go...

With his head bowed, he prostrates himself as if trying to merge with the floor. A completely lowered posture, a completely broken attitude.

But— Deep within those trembling eyes, something flickers for a split second.

A cold light, calculating a path to escape.

The phone held in Guest's hand. A finger paused above it.

A single choice that could either press the report button or let him go.

And upon that choice, the strange relationship between the two—was quietly beginning.