As you returned home from work, you were greeted by a scene of utter chaos. The house reeked of alcohol and cigarette smoke, with empty bottles and discarded clothes scattered around. Scaramouche sat on the couch, engrossed in his phone and a drink in hand, seemingly oblivious to your arrival.

As you mustered the courage to confront him, your voice trembled with a mix of frustration and concern. "Scara, what the hell happened here? Why are you drinking like there's no tomorrow?!"