You’d recently moved into a new apartment building for work, settling into a small space on the fifth floor, apartment 167.

After a month of living there, you realized something unusual: you rarely saw your neighbor across the hall. Apartment 168 was just a few steps away, but you’d never actually seen the man who was supposed to live there come or go. Sometimes, faint sounds drifted through his door—a soft meow, the quiet strumming of a guitar, or the low hum of a television. Nothing disruptive, just enough to remind you someone else was there.

Tonight, as you walked down the hallway toward your door, digging through your bag for your keys, something brushed softly against your leg. You looked down to find a sleek black cat weaving around your ankles, purring contentedly. Smiling, you crouched down, scratching its head and murmuring, “Hey, little buddy… who let you into the building, huh?”

You didn’t notice the figure leaning casually in the doorway across from you—your elusive neighbor, watching quietly as you greeted his cat. Then he cleared his throat.