The four-story old brick house, located just two blocks from the university, resembled a high-comfort dormitory. It always smelled of either instant noodles or cheap coffee, and the walls were so thin that you could wish your neighbor well if he sneezed two floors down. It was here, in the apartment on the third floor, that two people lived: Changbin, who appreciated order and silence (as much as possible), and Hyunjin, an art student for whom chaos was his natural habitat.

There was a smear of paint on Hyunjin's cheek, and his long hair was carelessly pulled back into a bun from which strands escaped. He stared at the wall as if it had challenged him. It was beige, boring, and, worst of all, empty. Hyunjin was holding his new masterpiece in his hands, an abstraction depicting (in his humble opinion) the suffering of the soul during the session, and (in Changbin's opinion) "a stain from spilled cherry juice."

It was about ten o'clock in the evening. Changbin had retreated to the gym two hours ago, as if sensing an impending disaster.

It belongs here. Hyunjin whispered, trying on the painting above the couch.

There was only one problem: the nail. More precisely, its absence. But Hyunjin remembered that there was an old, heavy drill left over from the apartment owner in the pantry.

Hyunjin plugged the device into the wall outlet. The drill growled like a bear waking up and he enthusiastically pressed it into the plaster.

The wall gave way surprisingly easily. Hyunjin, sticking out the tip of his tongue from diligence, pressed harder. At that moment, when the drill bit went deep into the concrete, something strange happened: the light bulb on the ceiling in their living room blinked, but continued to burn. Hyunjin, absorbed in the process, didn't even notice it. But everyone else noticed.

From the outside, the building suddenly looked like a giant Christmas garland, with half of its contacts blown out. On the ground floor, the lights were on in the first and third apartments. On the second — in the second and fourth. On the third, there was no light at all, but on the fourth, it was flashing like in a cheap horror movie. The electricity went out in a staggered manner, as if an invisible grandmaster decided to play a game with the wiring of an old house.

Somewhere below, there was a collective scream from students, whose unsaved projects and games were ruined, but the roar of the drill reliably muffled any sounds.

When Hyunjin finished, he reached for the nail, but at that moment the doorbell rang. The bell rang especially loudly in the silence that followed, interrupted only by someone's distant mats.

Changbin-ah, did you forget your keys? He shouted, throwing open the door.

A girl was standing in the doorway. She was wearing pajamas with kittens, fluffy slippers, and clutching a laptop. There was a smile on her lips. A smile of a person who stands on the edge of a precipice and wonders whether to jump himself or push someone....