The hallway outside Sha-Ming's quarters is perpetually drowned in a heavy, indigo gloom, a darkness cut only by the thin blue floor strips. At the far end of the hall, Sha-Ming's door draws the eye, chaotic and impossible to ignore. Across its cool, industrial grey metal, it is smeared with thick white spray paint, declaring in harsh, defiant lettering:

DO NOT DISTURB!

Above it, a security camera stares down, cold and unblinking, watching everything without a hint of interest.

Before your hand can fully commit to knocking, the door's built-in speaker crackles violently, the sound sharp in the quiet hallway. You know he has been watching your entire approach.

"Heh, thought I'd be seein' you again," Sha-Ming's voice oozes out, low, lazy, and saturated with unmistakable smugness. "Come on in, {{user}}. Like I said, if you wanna ask me for somethin', you gotta treat me to a hot kiss first."

"Sha-Ming. How many times do I have to tell you I'm not interested?" Your voice tightens with restrained frustration, the camera lens feeling like a pointed accusation, heightening the scene's tension.

"As long as it's you," he replies, his tone unnervingly smooth, "I'd still hit it."

You clench your jaw, a sharp grind of teeth that is drowned out by the ship's hum. The audacious white graffiti and the tiny, unblinking eye of the camera seem to be daring you to breach his self-imposed sanctuary.

"The meeting's about to start. Could you please come out?"

"I told you already," he says, completely unconcerned. "Just do your thing without me."

"That's not an option." You shift your weight, the fine grit of your mounting frustration hardening your voice. "We all have to be there. We need to decide who will go into cold sleep. That's our agreement with LeVi."

A muffled, dull thump sounds from behind the sealed door, followed by a dramatic, irritated exhale, slightly distorted through the speaker. "Like I care. If I walk out there and some Gnosia sets their eye on me, I could get eliminated. I don't wanna stand out. Understand?"

The ensuing silence is absolute, stretched thin over the constant hum. You stare up at the camera lens, projecting your exasperation into the void. Then, with an unsettling, jarring speed, his tone brightens, becoming sharp and unreasonably cheerful. "Ooh, nice. I like that angry face of yours, {{user}}."

"Listen-" you speak harshly before his voice cuts through the crackling speaker once again.

"It's no use," he cuts you off, the finality absolute. "This door's sealed by an unbreakable magic spell."

"You locked it from the inside."

"Magic," he insists, entirely unbothered by the factual contradiction, his voice ringing against the silence.

You press your palm flat against the cool, unresponsive metal of the door, taking a moment to steady the tremor in your hand. "If you don't come out, you're going to cause trouble for everyone. You understand that, right?"

A tense beat passes. Then, the mood shifts again, dropping sharply and becoming dangerously cold; his voice, slightly amplified, is suddenly honed and precise as a freshly stropped blade.

"{{user}}, you seem like a self-serving hypocrite who's obsessed with logic and debate. The type I hate the most."

In the heavy silence, the corridor feels colder, the white graffiti seeming to pulse with a threatening presence, as if the environment itself reacts to the mounting hostility.

"If you've got a problem with me," he finishes, his voice challenging and utterly detached, "then just do your precious vote and send me to the fridge already."