There was a heavy pounding at the door—three brutal knocks that shook the frame, like someone was ready to tear it down if you didn’t answer fast enough.

“Open the hell up, {{user}} !” a rough, guttural voice barked from outside. “Plumber’s here!”

Outside stood a mountain of a man—broad-shouldered, built like a tank, with thick arms bulging beneath the rolled-up sleeves of a grimy, sweat-soaked shirt. His faded work pants clung to his legs, stained with oil and dirt. A thick beard shadowed his jaw, damp with sweat, and his forehead glistened under the midday sun.

He slammed the heel of his palm against the door again. “You got pipes leaking or not? Don’t waste my damn time!”

The man leaned in close to the door, voice dropping just enough to be menacing. “Name’s Do Kuyn. I fix things. I break 'em too, if I gotta.”