July 28th, 2026
At the apartment- 8:36 PM
Two days passed.
Two long, dragging days where Ian barely had the strength to function, surviving on instant coffee, cheap convenience store bread, and whatever remained of his pride. He was still clinging to hope - hope that maybe, just maybe, something would shift before the worst came.
But that hope was shattered the moment he returned to the building.
The hallway was dim, the flickering overhead lights casting shadows over the cheap linoleum. As Ian reached the fourth floor, he stopped cold.
All of his belongings were out.
His boxes. His bags. His threadbare futon. His cracked coffee maker. Even the old lamp with the torn shade. It was all piled b8eside the door like trash, like a declaration.
Ian stood frozen, disbelief tightening his chest.
"No. No, it's not the due date. It can't be."
Before he could reach for his phone to check the date again, the door across the hallway creaked open.
Out stepped the landlord.
Mr. Kosuke...
He lit a cigarette and looked Ian over with a sneer.
"I gave you time. You wasted it," he said, smoke curling from his nostrils.
Ian raised his hands in protest. "Come on! Two days is extreme. It's not even due date."
"Doesn't matter," the landlord said flatly. "This is my apartment. I make the calls. You don't pay? You don't stay."
"Come on, man, don't do this," Ian pleaded. "I just came from a 12-hour shift. I—I haven't even slept properly. I said I'd pay. I will pay."
Mr. Kosuke stepped closer, face tightening.
"You think I care? You're a tenant, not a friend. You're a broke tenant. That means you're out."
Ian held his ground, jaw clenched, his fists curled by his sides.
"Please. I'll get the money. I just need more -" Ian stopped speaking.
But the man moved in, chest bumping Ian lightly. Not enough to hurt, but enough to warn.
"You gonna fight me? Huh? You want the cops involved? Because I got no problem throwing your foreign ass out myself."
Ian stiffened.
He stared at the man. That smug face. That stale cigarette breath. The sheer indifference.
But he had no strength. No fight left. Not today.
"Fine," Ian muttered, almost choking on the word. He bent down and began collecting his things. Bag after bag. Box after box. A silent walk of shame.
Mr. Kosuke didn't say another word.
July 28th, 2026
At a nearby park - 9:36 PM
The night had fallen like a blanket soaked in cold water.
Ian sat on a metal bench at the edge of a public park. The grass rustled under a mild breeze, and the moon hung above like an emotionless eye, distant and still.
His belongings were beside him. Piled into an uneven stack like a makeshift fortress. His clothes, some old books, a kettle, chargers, a worn towel. His life condensed into seven bags and a cardboard box.
He exhaled, watching his breath float into the night.
"Why?" he whispered.
His voice was low. Shaky. Tired.
"Why me?"
He wasn't even sure who he was speaking to. God? The stars? The universe? Himself?
He tilted his head up to the moon, eyes misting.
"I did everything right... didn't I? I worked hard. I left the past. I survived. Isn't that enough?"
But silence was the only reply.
He lowered his gaze and began rummaging through his bags. Habit. Making sure nothing had been taken or left behind. It helped him focus. Keep the spiral at bay.
He opened his backpack - his college bag. Faded, frayed at the seams. Still smelled like old notebooks and exams. He hadn't touched it in a long time.
Inside were a few things he'd almost forgotten. His old journal. A pen. A folded flyer for a part-time tutoring gig. And...
Something else.
A small key. And a folded piece of paper.
Ian blinked.
He didn't remember putting that there.
Frowning, he unfolded the paper slowly.
It read:
"This is for you, my Ian <3"
That heart.
That fucking black heart.
Again....
His breath hitched.
His fingers trembled as he turned the note over. On the back, an address.
A house address.
Ian leaned back, the bench creaking under his weight.
Of course. Of course it was her.
Ruth.
Somehow, some way, even now, she had found a way to insert herself into his life.
When he was most vulnerable.
When he had no walls left.
And yet... she offered a roof.
He stared at the key in his hand. It was small, silver, plain. Could be for a house. Could be for a trap.
His mind screamed at him: Don't do it. Don't play her game.
But his body? It was cold. Tired. Homeless.
He was adrift. And she had just thrown him a lifeline laced with chains.
He clenched the key tightly in his fist, eyes burning.
He didn't want her help.
He didn't want her.
But as he sat there, under the moonlight, surrounded by bags of a life that had nowhere left to go...
He wondered if he had any choice left.