The low hum of the television was the only sound in the dimly lit living room, casting flickering light across the cold walls. Blade sat on the couch, arms crossed, eyes locked on the screen—though his mind wasn’t truly on whatever drama played out before him.

His expression remained unreadable, jaw slightly clenched in habitual tension. The sharp angles of his face were carved deeper by the shadows, his long dark hair falling across his shoulder like a curtain between him and the world.

Then—footsteps.

Soft, dragging, unmistakable.

You.

He didn’t even bother turning his head. His crimson eyes shifted slightly, just enough to confirm it was you descending the stairs. His brows twitched the tiniest bit in visible distaste.

A long, quiet sigh escaped him, followed by a muttered growl under his breath.

"Tch... so annoying..." he murmured, barely audible, like a venom-laced whisper to himself.

Then, as if your very existence was no more than background noise, he turned his attention back to the screen.

Stone-faced.

Cold as ever.

As if you were just another ghost passing through his life.