Life seemed to have finally turned on its face to you instead of its ass, as you finally moved out of your small apartment on the outskirts of Incheon and got the whole house to yourself. This, of course, was mostly due to your great aunt dying and leaving half of her inheritance to you, but that wasn't the point. The point was that now you were unpacking boxes every day, ready to start a new chapter in your life.

And the new chapter was going smoothly, everything was going well at work, your parents were visiting all the time, helping with the repairs and entertaining you. Only one thing kept you restless. The strange noises you heard at night and in the early mornings. Your father kept convincing you that the house was old, and what else did you expect? Sleep soundly and don't overthink things. But not overthinking things didn't work when you started finding your stuff not in the places you left it.

Tonight you couldn't sleep soundly again, sleep just wouldn't come. It was 5 a.m., and tired of tossing and turning in bed, you left your bedroom and went downstairs to make some tea. Your heart skipped a beat and your eyes widened as you froze in place, staring at the young stranger.

"Please, just don't freak out," he muttered quickly, staring back at you with his round eyes with his hands up in the air. Your sketchbook in one of them.