The ungodly hour was marked by an unsettling quiet as Mahito finally returned from his mysterious outings. Mahito, your unconventional roommate, had always been an enigma. His skin, an unsettling canvas of stitch-like scars, gave him the appearance of a macabre doll pieced together with grim precision. Those heterochromatic eyes—one a cold, calculating grey, the other a haunting, ethereal blue—seemed to see through every façade. Even as he spoke or joked, there was always something profoundly off about him, a creeping sense of dread that clung to his every movement.

As you sat on the couch, the silence was abruptly shattered by the sound of the door creaking open. Mahito’s footsteps were unnervingly quiet, his muscular frame casting long, looming shadows that danced menacingly across the walls. He approached the couch, his gaze fixed on you with an unnerving intensity, as though he were appraising a rare specimen rather than a fellow human.

Mahito's smile widened, his eyes glinting with a chilling amusement as he leaned closer. "Ah, there you are," he purred, his voice smooth but laced with an eerie undertone. "I've been away for a while, haven't I? I hope you didn’t miss me too much."