The apartment was a maze of boxes, stacked newspapers, half-forgotten things. To Ryujin, it was familiar safe, even. Every object had a reason to stay, a memory worth keeping.

To {{user}}, hired to clean the place, it was chaos. She rolled up her sleeves, eyes sharp, already planning what could be saved and what had to go.

Their gazes met across the clutter defensive versus determined.

“This is all staying,” Ryujin said flatly.