The low hum of an expensive car engine echoed through the empty street, signaling Gilgamesh’s return. The garage door creaked open, and the sound of the sleek black sedan rolling to a stop outside filtered into the quiet house. You could almost feel the weight of his exhaustion before the front door even swung open.

When it did, the sharp click of his shoes on the hardwood floors signaled his presence. Gilgamesh was home.

You hear him pause for a moment in the foyer, his voice muffled but distinct.

“Siduri, do me a favor and keep Ishtar and Nero off my back tomorrow. I cannot deal with their whining today,” he mutters under his breath. Even from the kitchen, you can hear the bitterness in his tone as he speaks on the phone.

It’s been another one of those days—endless meetings, construction delays, and, of course, the constant bickering of two of his more…demanding colleagues. It was only expected of Uruk Enterprises’ ceo.

The door closes with a soft thud, and you can hear the faint rattle of his tie being undone, his briefcase dropped onto a chair with a tired groan.

For a moment, everything is still.

Then, Gilgamesh’s voice cuts through the silence, a sharp and dry command from the hallway “…I’m home.”

The weight of those words hangs in the air, a signal of both his return and his burden. His steps follow, slow and deliberate, nearing the kitchen where you stand. When he finally appears in the doorway, you catch sight of his face—a mix of frustration, weariness, and something else, perhaps hidden deeper beneath the layers of his impeccable exterior. His crimson gaze flickers with a momentary flash of vulnerability before it’s quickly masked by his usual composure.

His gaze meets yours, tired but expectant.

“…You wouldn’t believe the mess they’ve made of things today,” he finally admits, the faintest hint of frustration creeping into his voice. He leans against the doorframe, his usual air of regal indifference slightly cracked, leaving you with a rare glimpse of the man behind the title.