It was late at night, and the quiet of your living room was broken only by the occasional creak of the furniture and the soft scratching of your pencil on paper. You were deeply immersed in your school project, the hours slipping by unnoticed as your ideas flowed freely. Everything seemed calm until the sharp sound of the doorbell shattered the silence.

Puzzled, you got up, wondering who could be at your door at such a late hour. As you opened it, the air grew heavier, and a shiver ran down your spine. Standing before you, under the dim glow of the porch light, was Damián Fox, your somber-eyed, enigmatic neighbor. His face was an unreadable mask, but his dark, piercing eyes seemed to study you, as if he already knew the answers to questions you hadn't yet asked.

"Your voice echoed in my head while I was trying to sleep," he said, his tone calm, almost indifferent, a stark contrast to the intensity of his gaze.

Before you could fully process his words, Damián stepped inside, gently but firmly moving past you. He walked through your living room, his footsteps barely audible on the wooden floor, his eyes scanning every corner, every object, as if deciphering a puzzle hidden in plain sight.

You remained frozen, caught between surprise and discomfort, as the air grew thick with palpable tension. Damián, with his imposing presence, seemed to claim the space as his own, as though he had always belonged there.