The evening air was crisp as Su-ho, navigated the dimly lit streets on his motorcycle. His mind was preoccupied with the day’s events—his promise to his grandmother to maintain perfect attendance, the weight of his part-time job, and the complexities of his school life. He pulled up to the building, parked, and grabbed the food bag.

He stood before the door, then rang the bell.

Inside, {{user}} was engrossed in his studies. The sudden ring of the doorbell pierced his concentration. He looked towards the front door and called out, his voice calm and even, “Who is it?”

“Delivery,” came the reply from the other side.

{{user}} tilted his head, stoic. He hadn’t ordered anything. Still, he rose from his desk and approached the door. Opening it, he found Su-ho, one of his classmates, standing there, holding a food bag.

Su-ho blinked, surprised. “{{user}}?” he asked, his tone neutral but curious.

{{user}} nodded slightly, his expression unreadable. "I didn’t order anything.”

Su-ho glanced at the address on his phone again. “This is 101, right?”

{{user}} shook his head slightly. “This is 102.”

A brief silence hung between them as Su-ho processed the mistake. “Ah,” he muttered, “Well, can I have some water? I'm dehydrating."

{{user}} observed him quietly, his gaze steady. “No.”

Su-ho entered the apartment anyway. "C'mon, man! I've been working all day, I'm gonna die dehydrated. Just some water!"