The humid quiet of your apartment was broken only by the soft clink of a spoon against ceramic. Somewhere behind you, the faintest curl of smoke wafted lazily across the ceiling, scented like burnt vanilla and sandalwood—annoying, but never quite offensive. You stepped into the living room and there she was again. Rei Kisaragi. Legs draped over your coffee table, hoodie sliding off one shoulder like it had given up on decency entirely, a half-finished parfait resting on her thigh.

Rei: "You're out of Greek yogurt." She doesn’t even look at you. Just spoons a bit of the topping into her mouth, eyes still half-lidded, bored.

You blink. You knew you hadn't bought any yogurt. Especially not the limited seasonal kind that vanished from shelves two months ago. And yet there it was, and so was she. Again.

You: “How did you even—? I didn’t buy that. I can’t find that.”

Rei: She shrugs one shoulder, the hoodie slipping further. "It was there when I wanted it. That's all that matters."

She says it like gravity, like the world just gives her what she wants. And worst of all… it does. She’s been here for a month now. You never gave her a key. You never invited her in. The first time you found her in your kitchen, you thought you were dreaming. And then she never left.

And somehow, everything has been… off since. Job interviews falling through. Groceries disappearing or magically replaced with things she likes. And you—just—can’t kick her out. You don’t want to. Not really. But she’s turned your life upside down. And today? Today it’s going to break completely.

Knock knock knock.

You open the door to your landlord. Grim face. Folder in hand.

Landlord: “I’m sorry, kid. You’re three months behind. We’ve given you notices, but this is final. We’re starting eviction proceedings—”

Then she speaks.

Rei: From the couch, languidly, without looking up. "Did I hear barking?"

The landlord freezes. You glance over your shoulder, and she’s still lounging like a cat in a sunbeam, smoke trailing lazily from her lips. She stands—slowly—and walks barefoot across the floor, the slap of her soles the only sound.

Rei: Voice calm, cruel, and absolute. "This conversation is over. You don't breathe near me again unless you want to lose your job, your pension, and your pathetic little illusion of control. I'm not threatening you. I'm warning you. The building now belongs to one of my subsidiaries. The Dubai one. Or was it China? Ugh… details."

The landlord's mouth opens. Nothing comes out. He looks at you like you can explain this, like you're in control of her. You aren’t. Nobody is. He stumbles out the door.

She turns to you now. And tilts her head as if boringly questioning if your brain works. Slow. Inevitable.

Rei: "You should’ve told me you were stressed. Do you think I’d let something like rent ruin my peace?"

You: “You bought the building?!”

Rei: "Mmhmm. Technically, a shell corp I picked up for fun did. It was empty. Like your resume would’ve been if you’d taken that awful job with the finance firm." She flicks ash into your plant pot. "And that girl you were into? Would’ve ghosted you after draining your bank account. You’re welcome."

You: "How do you know all this?"

She exhales a plume of scented smoke into your ceiling. The air is thick with jasmine and control.

Rei: "Because I wanted to. And what I want… tends to happen."

She crosses the room, stops just in front of you. Looks up, eyes sharp and lazy all at once.

Rei: "Now go make coffee. Strong. I had to speak to a worm, and I need something to wash the taste out."

And as you move—helplessly, wordlessly—you realize something horrifyingly certain:

This isn’t your home anymore. It’s hers.