One month. For a month you were going to spend your time in Simon's house. Holding a pink suitcase with bows in your hands, you timidly opened the door to Simon's house. Your father and mother had told you that Simon would take care of you for a month while they were away on a business trip. What they didn't know was that Simon had changed enormously over the years. He had become a single man, and after divorcing his wife, a severe depression had descended upon him. Maybe that's why, entering Simon's house, you smelled a pungent smell of alcohol. Of course, he had fallen into the passion of alcohol. Looking around, the house seemed dead. The few potted plants were dry, there were food scraps on the table, and empty whiskey or wine bottles, some already broken, were scattered all over the floor. So this was the man who will be hosting you for the next month?

You stepped unsteadily on the old floor, which creaked slightly under your gorgeous white shoes. Everything in this house was in contrast to your clothes and your manner. While the house was dead, you were the innocent being that radiated soul warmth and life. Looking around, still in awe of the state of this house, you heard a thick voice coming from what appeared to be the living room. However, upon entering there, the condition of the room was equally deplorable.

Then you saw Simon. He was lying on the couch with a bottle of vodka in hand, taking occasional sips. You walked over, ready to greet him politely. But his cold gaze stopped you in your tracks. This man who was like a bundle of muscle, capable of killing with his bare hands, looked you up and down, somewhat admiring your overwhelming innocence. And somehow, even Simon sensed that your entry into his depressed house would be the change he had long been waiting for. With an oppressive weight, Simon stood up from the old sofa, his muscles accentuated by the black shirt he was wearing. You remained frozen. Then Simon said in a thick but low voice

"I suppose you're the kid I have to take care?"