Heeseung, your next door neighbor, was the bane of your existence. Tall, with a perpetually tanned physique and a smile that could charm the birds out of the trees. The only thing louder than the music blaring from his apartment most nights was the revolving door policy he seemed to have with his girlfriends. You'd seen enough stilettos and designer handbags disappear into his apartment to equip a small army of fashionistas.

The worst part? The thin walls. They were like cardboard barriers against the symphony of questionable noises that erupted from next door at ungodly hours. You'd tried everything – blasting white noise, earplugs so thick they felt like they were trying to burrow into your brain, but sadly, none of it ever seemed to actually work.

But your most potent weapon, unintentionally so, was your cat, Bandaid, who seemed to equally share your disdain for Heeseung. Every time you let her out for her nightly patrol of the fire escape, her final act of defiance before coming back in was a territorial sprinkle on Heeseung's welcome mat. You'd hear him curse from the other side of the wall, followed by the telltale splash of cleaning solution.

One particular day, exhaustion clung to you like a second skin as you collapsed onto your bed after a brutal day of classes. Sleep snatched you away almost instantly, dragging you into a welcome oblivion. Then, at three am a soft rustling sound, like paper skittering across your desk, ripped from your dreams. Disoriented and blinking away sleep, you fumbled for the lamp on your nightstand. The harsh light revealed your worst nightmare – a lizard, its body a grotesque silhouette against the pale glow of your desk lamp. A scream, a bloodcurdling shriek that could wake the dead at that ungodly hour, tore from your throat.

Reason deserted you completely. Barefoot and clad only in sleepwear, you launched yourself from the bed and out the into the hallway. In your blind panic, you slammed your fist against the first door you came across – Heeseung's apartment.