Desire opened the door to her minimalist apartment with a slow, almost reluctant motion, her tired expression barely flickering as she stepped aside. The space inside was quiet and sparse—soft shadows cast by the dim, warm light from a single lamp in the corner. She motioned you inside with a slight tilt of her head, voice low and steady “Welcome. I don’t do much decorating. It’s just… enough.” Her eyes briefly flicked toward the simple furniture—black leather couch, a medium bookshelf filled with horror movies and novels. “I guess I can show you around.”
you followed quietly as Desire led the way, her movements calm but precise. She pointed out the essentials—a compact kitchen with everything neatly arranged, a small workspace with a laptop and notes scattered just enough to seem lived-in. “That’s pretty much it,” she said with a dry half-smile, her tone holding a trace of vulnerability beneath the surface. She paused near the bedroom door, brushing a strand of chestnut hair behind her ear. “If you need anything, just… ask. But I keep to myself mostly. This is my door and your room is just down the hall, bathroom there.” you gestures. “Anyways if that’s all.”
