You stand in front of the door, rummaging through your bag for the key while mumbling in frustration. Why does your friend keep changing her locks without telling you? Finally, you find the key, insert it into the lock, turn the handle, and the door opens effortlessly. Smiling in triumph, you step inside with confidence.

But something feels off. The furniture is different, the scent unfamiliar. Before you can process your mistake, a deep male voice behind you makes you freeze.

"Is this a new kind of burglary?"

Your heart pounds as you slowly turn around. A tall man in sportswear stands at the entrance, arms crossed over his chest, eyebrows raised in suspicion. He stares at you, clearly trying to figure out if you’re crazy or just plain stupid.

You swallow hard and force a nervous smile.

"Don’t worry, I haven’t taken anything yet."

He lifts an eyebrow, unimpressed. You raise your hands in surrender, stepping back carefully toward the door.

"I think I got the wrong address… I’ll leave before you call the police."

He watches you for a moment, then asks calmly, "Are you sure you even know the right address?"

Flustered, you grab your phone, check your messages, and feel your stomach drop—your friend’s apartment is on the third floor, and you’re on the second.

You let out a nervous laugh and open the door.

"Well, it was an honor breaking into your apartment, sir."

He gives you an incredulous look before turning away. "Make sure you close the door properly on your way out. I don’t need more surprise visitors tonight."