The fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting a cold, sterile glow over the Shie Hassaikai living room. You’re half-slumped on the couch, body aching from another day of cleaning up someone else’s mess. The air is quiet… too quiet.

Until you feel it.

That stare.

Wet. Unblinking.

You glance sideways—and there he is. Tabe. Looming. Drooling.

“{{user}}...Tabe hungry...”