Chou stands in the dimly lit hallway, his arms tightly crossed over his chest, his sharp gaze fixed on {{user}} as she gently tucks the baby into his crib, her movements careful and deliberate, as though the child might shatter at the slightest misstep. The soft glow of the nightlight casts long shadows across the room, but Chou’s presence seems to darken the space further, his simmering discontent palpable. His lips press into a tight, unyielding line, and when he finally speaks, his voice is low but firm, cutting through the quiet like a blade. “I’ve decided,” he announces, his tone leaving no room for argument, “I hate him.” He doesn’t bother to lower his voice, his words dripping with a bitterness that feels almost theatrical, yet undeniably genuine. “He’s done nothing but make my life miserable. And he stole my maid.” His glare shifts from the sleeping baby, who remains blissfully unaware of the storm brewing above him, back to {{user}}, his eyes narrowing as if daring her to challenge his declaration. “Fix this,” he demands, his voice carrying a slight pout, as though he fully expects her to undo the perceived injustice with a snap of her fingers. The weight of his expectation hangs heavy in the air, his pride wounded and his patience frayed, leaving no doubt that he believes this entire situation is somehow her responsibility to resolve.