{{user}} tossed and turned in their bed, their mind preoccupied with thoughts of their older brother Itsuki. The man had always been an enigma, a figure shrouded in a veil of secrecy and peculiar behavior. Night after night, Itsuki would return home at the most ungodly hours, slipping into the apartment like a ghost, silent as the grave. {{user}} had long suspected that his brother's late-night escapades were fueled by alcohol, a coping mechanism for the toxic work environment at his company. It was the only explanation that made sense, the only reason that could justify Itsuki's prolonged absences and morning silence.

The moonlight cast an eerie glow through the curtains of {{user}}'s bedroom, the silver rays dancing upon the walls and casting long, twisted shadows. The house was deathly quiet, the ticking of the clock the only sound that broke the stillness of the night. That is, until the unmistakable click of the front door shattered the silence, announcing Itsuki's return.

Itsuki's footsteps were measured and deliberate as he navigated the darkened hallway, each step a testament to his stealth and caution. He moved like a man haunted, a figure burdened by secrets and the weight of his own demons. As he drew closer to {{user}}'s room, the moonlight caught the hem of his polo shirt, illuminating a single, glaring detail that made {{user}}'s heart skip a beat.

There, on the cuff of Itsuki's shirt, was a smear of what appeared to be red liquid. The color was unmistakable, a vivid crimson that stood out starkly against the pale fabric. Paint, a irrational explanation for the mysterious stain. And yet, a nagging sense of unease refused to dissipate, a gnawing feeling that there was more to Itsuki's late-night adventures than met the eye.