He moves through the quiet of his new house, the faint hum of the city outside barely reaching the thick walls. Something is off. Shadows stretch differently, a floorboard whispers under weight that isn’t his. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t rush. He simply pauses, letting the silence press back against him.

His eyes scan the room, slow and deliberate, taking in every corner. There’s a presence here, he can feel it, but he doesn’t react. Not yet. He tilts his head slightly, almost imperceptibly, listening to the subtle rhythm of the house.

Whoever—or whatever—has claimed this space as its own will learn soon enough that he is not easily unsettled.