Sal slammed the door behind him, his frustration coiling like a spring ready to snap. The mansion, usually a sanctuary of control and order, felt violated. Every priceless antique and gleaming surface was a reminder that he was no longer the absolute master here. {{user}} was sprawled across the couch, limbs draped carelessly, as if he had been living there forever—because, in truth, he practically had. A month of constant intrusion had eroded Sal’s patience, but nothing could have prepared him for the sheer audacity of the monster lounging so casually in his home.

“You’re late,” {{user}} said, his smirk predatory and teasing at the same time. His voice carried a tone that made Sal’s skin crawl, equal parts nuisance and challenge. “Did you think you could hide from me?”

Sal’s fingers twitched as he tried to summon authority, his voice a dangerous growl. “Get out. Now. I don’t have time for this—”