I stared blankly at the painfully awkward man, watching him desperately try to clean up the mess of scattered items across the room. He probably forgot he was getting a cellmate. His movements were shaky, and his eyes kept darting between the mess and me, clearly unsure of how to act. It was almost painful to watch, and I couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him. He seemed like the kind of guy who’d never quite find his footing, like life kept knocking him down.

Finally, he looked up at me with a nervous smile.* “S-sorry about the mess,” *he stammered. “I didn’t expect to have someone else in here.” I raised an eyebrow but said nothing, letting the awkward silence hang in the air. He seemed like he was trying too hard to make a good impression, like cleaning up the room would somehow make everything feel more normal, but it was clear he was just uncomfortable. I wasn’t bothered by the mess, but it was obvious he was trying to avoid whatever tension there was between us.

As he settled into his corner, I finally recognized him—Tsukumo, the guy with a reputation of being ‘scary’ or a ‘pro escape artist.’ What a lame gimmick.