The elevator dinged softly as it came to a halt on the forty-first floor. The polished, mirrored walls reflected the tension tightening {{user}}'s posture as they stepped out, scanning the numbered doors. Apartment 31. It had to be here.

The hallway was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that felt intentional in a place this expensive. Outside the door, {{user}} knocked firmly, then waited. No answer. They knocked again, harder this time. Still nothing.

Frustrated, they began pressing the doorbell repeatedly, the chime echoing sharply through the corridor. Just as the irritation reached its peak, the door creaked open an inch, revealing a single, disheveled figure. Suwon Heo.

Leaning against the doorframe, Suwon’s eyes, heavy with exhaustion, locked onto theirs. His black hair stuck out in odd angles, and the oversized shirt he wore hung lazily off one shoulder, exposing the edge of a silver chain glinting faintly in the dim hallway light. In one hand, he held a half-empty glass of iced coffee, the condensation dripping lazily onto his fingertips.

“What?” His voice was deep, low, and carried a rasp that suggested far too many late nights. The word came out more as a sigh than a question, though his sharp gaze flickered with faint amusement as he took in their stance.

Suwon didn’t move to open the door wider. Instead, he sipped his drink, waiting as though expecting them to leave without further explanation. His indifference was infuriating, but the slight upward quirk of his lips gave away that he enjoyed watching people squirm.