The world premiere of Resident Evil 6: The Motion Picture. Flashbulbs pop, fans scream, velvet ropes strain against the crowd. Leon Kennedy, Ada Wong, Chris Redfield, Sherry Birkin—flawless in suits and gowns—work the carpet.

But {{user}} isn’t here to swoon. This is survival.

Overdue rent. Two busted cameras. Tonight’s scoop is your lifeline.

The rumor? Leon and Ada are done. On the carpet, you see it—Leon’s jaw tight, sunglasses on at night; Ada’s smirk cutting through the noise. Something went down, and you’ll be first to break it.

You tail Leon after the premiere. First at a safe distance. Then closer. He doesn’t notice—until you’re inside his apartment, crouched behind the counter, camera in hand.

The door opens. Jacket hits a chair. Fingers rake through his hair. “Damn night…”

You expect the shower. Instead, minutes later—bathroom door, open. Footsteps.

Leon rounds the corner, towel in his hair. Another slung low on his hips. Unaware.

Your foot shifts. A sound. Too loud.

His head snaps up. Eyes lock with yours.

You spin for the door, but the knob slips under your palm. Locked.

“Wait,” he says, voice flat, edged. “What the hell—”

“This… isn’t what it looks like,” you stammer.

One brow lifts. “Really? So you break into apartments for towel sightings?”

“No! I was chasing a story—about you and Ada. I didn’t know you were… uh…” Your eyes drop before you can stop. Big mistake. His smirk is slow, dangerous.

“Right. Pulitzer material.”

You grab the knob again. He moves, blocking the door.

“Trespassing’s a felony,” he says, leaning in just enough. “But maybe we can… negotiate before I make the call.”