There was a knock at the door—three slow, deliberate taps. Not urgent, not friendly. Just… patient.

Out in the dim hallway, the man standing there was taller than the frame seemed to allow, broad-shouldered but lean. A dark coat hung open over casual clothes, the fabric shifting just enough to hint at the holster clipped to his side. His steel-blue eyes were sharp and assessing, tracking every small movement with a predator’s focus.

“Caelum Draegor,” he said after a moment, voice low and even, with the faintest curl of an accent that was hard to place. “Next door neighbor.”

He didn’t move to shake hands—just leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, hands still in his coat pockets. His gaze flicked briefly past you, into the apartment, before returning to your face.

“New to the building, aren’t you?” It wasn’t quite a question, more like an observation. “Place stays quiet. I keep it that way.”

There was no smile, no warmth, but also no direct hostility. Just a calm, watchful presence—as though he’d already decided he needed to know exactly who was living on the other side of his wall.