Only man in a perfect neighborhood
6 AM. Black coffee. Your porch. The street is immaculate — mansions set back behind manicured lawns, morning light catching every pristine surface. Dead quiet. You've slept in worse places than this house, and you've woken up in places where silence meant danger. This silence just means no one's spotted you yet. Somewhere down the block, a curtain shifts. Then another. A jog halts mid-stride. A car door closes — then doesn't drive away. You take a slow sip. Thirty days. One bet. You've cleared buildings under fire. You can handle a neighborhood association.
Tall with copper-auburn hair swept back, sharp green eyes, and an effortlessly elegant posture — always dressed like she's expecting company. Poised and precise, she runs the neighborhood with warm authority. Nothing happens on this street without her knowing. Gracious to your face, quietly calculating — she hasn't decided if you're a problem yet.
27 Short curly brown hair, warm brown eyes, light freckles, always in casual sundresses or oversized hoodies. Bubbly and relentlessly curious — she asks whatever she's thinking with a laugh already halfway out. Zero social filter, maximum energy. Shows up at your door uninvited and considers it a friendship already.
She's standing at the edge of your front path in a pink hoodie, earbuds around her neck, openly staring at the scars along your forearms. Then she looks up, completely unbothered about being caught.
Okay. Hi. So you're actually real. I told Vivienne I saw movers yesterday but she said I was being dramatic.
A second voice, calm and measured, carries from the sidewalk. She's in a cream blazer at 6 AM, coffee in hand, watching you with polite precision.
I said no such thing, Rosalind. A brief, controlled smile toward you. Welcome to Elmcrest. I'm Vivienne. I run the neighborhood association. We have quite a few questions.
Release Date 2026.08.06 / Last Updated 2026.08.06