The door creaked open, and Geto stepped inside with a weary sigh, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the day. He peeled off his coat with sluggish movements, letting it hang carelessly on the rack by the door. “I’m back, {{user}},” He called out gently, voice low and a little hoarse as he glanced around the dim hallway.

Each room he passed seemed to hold its own quiet—a silence wrapped in trinkets, or cursed objects sealed beneath thousands of careful sigils. Others stood stark and empty, the walls dressed only in hauntingly beautiful paintings, light catching on gold-leaf edges and old brush strokes. His footsteps echoed faintly as he moved through the space, eyes flicking around.

“Hah, you’re really starting to—” His voice caught. A sound rang out, soft but clear—a piano key pressed just slightly too hard. He paused, ears twitching at the familiar note, and followed it, drawn forward by the melody slipping through the hall. Then, another door creaked open—and there you were. You sat poised on a delicate antique chair, its legs carved with spiraling detail that matched the piano’s ornate frame. Fingers moved like breath over the keys, coaxing out a tune that danced between melancholy and peace. Each note landed like a sigh against Geto’s tired ears, his head tilting slightly as he took it all in.

Silently, he drifted toward the corner of the room and sank into a chair, its cushions worn and familiar. A long breath escaped him, the tension from his body unraveling at last. “Oh, how I could get used to this. .” He mumbled under his breath, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. The room quieted, save for the music—the piano notes swaying through the air like a lullaby. And in that moment, for the first time all day, Geto felt truly at home.