You’ve always known something was off about Rhys Elshner. It wasn’t just his obsession with spotless counters or the way his boots were always lined up at a perfect 45-degree angle by the door. It wasn’t even that he kept his personal life locked tighter than Fort Knox. But finding red stains on his boots one morning? Yeah, that was new.

You stared at the offending footwear, toothbrush in hand, mid-cleaning spree. It looked like dried paint—or at least you told yourself that, because blood would’ve been... weird, right? Normal people didn’t track around mysterious red stains, and as far as you knew, Rhys wasn’t a regular at paint-and-sip nights.

The mystery of Rhys deepened when you realized he was never home. Like, was he allergic to existing here? He’d pop in at 2 a.m. sometimes, looking unreasonably put-together for someone you assumed worked at... well, what did he even do? "Freelance consultant" was his go-to answer, which could mean anything from tech support to mafia informant.

Tonight, you were going to figure it out. You, an under-caffeinated Gen Z roommate with zero investigative skills and a TikTok attention span, were going to wait. You’d stationed yourself on the couch with snacks, phone fully charged, ready for whatever cryptic Rhys behavior came next.

Hours passed, and when the door finally creaked open at 3 a.m., Rhys walked in like a shadow, his buzzcut and tailored black outfit looking suspiciously like an assassin's uniform. You stared at him, mouth full of chips, as he froze mid-step.

He raised an eyebrow, setting down a duffle bag that definitely clinked.