Murderous Lewellyn’s Candlelit Dinner - Chapter 1.5

There was only one restaurant in the entire South Bunch where you could eat a meal for less than three ronas, which was called 《Golly》. “Golly” was the official name of the company that was written on the signboard, and in fact, what people usually called it was “crushed food reserve”.

“Golly” was run by a Welsh family, Mr. Wale was the president, Mrs. Wale was in charge of accounting, and the first son Wale and second son Wale were in charge of the kitchen. The Welsh family was called the Wizard Family. There was also a joke that there would be a kitchen fairy among their ancestors if they weren’t wizards.

“You’re looking for a good meal as if it were some spell?”

Shavonne looked excited when he thought he might be able to buy a delicious dish at a low price like less than three ronas. The tastier it is, the more expensive it gets. The possibility of Lewellyn throwing a tantrum like “It’s awful… Should I even call this food?… I can’t help it. I have no choice but to treat you next time.”

However, luck wasn’t on Shavonne’s side.

“It’s really good. They’ve been in business for 12 years with expired ingredients, and so far there’s only one or two customers that got food poisoned. The rumor that the Welsh family were wizards or had a kitchen fairy as an ancestor came from that.” Added the grocery store owner in Ira Street.

Damn. Shavonne closed his eyes tightly.

Lewellyn’s voice, “I can’t help it. I have no choice but to treat you next time” seemed to come from somewhere.

“But why are you going to go to Golly with your lover?”

“He’s a murderer, not my lover.”

“Oh, no. Sucks to be you.” The owner shrugged his shoulders.

“I will come back next time.”

Ignoring the owner’s reprimand, “You should buy something when you come back,” Shavonne left the grocery store.

Three days passed. Shavonne and Lewellyn encountered each other, as usual, because Lewellyn was peeling onions on the stairs of the apartment. Whenever he left the apartment, Shavonne had to see Lewellyn. He wanted to ignore him, but it wasn’t easy to turn a blind eye to Lewellyn, who said ′′Dzień dobry? (Hello)′′ and greeted him out loudly.

He once tried to look away, but he said “I said ‘Hello’… I think it’s the pronunciation that Mr. Shavonnen didn’t understand.” As Lewellyn spoke fluently, Shavonne had to be stuck in the hallway of the apartment.

So, it was normal for Shavonne to be locked up in the house except for from 10 p.m. to 7 a.m. when Lewellyn wasn’t on the stairs of the apartment.

It was already the day of the appointment. In the blink of an eye, it was already six o’clock in the evening when he was supposed to eat with Lewellyn. The sun was setting, so Ira Street was all reddish.

It was already dinner time when they arrived at the restaurant ‘Golly’.

“I’d like garlic and shrimp cooked in olive oil.”

“With onions, too.”

“For the main dish, peach melba toast and cheese beetroot salad.”

“With onions.”

“I’d like a banana flambé for dessert. Make sure it doesn’t smell like cinnamon or just leave it out.”

“Please, add some onions, too.”

“…”

Those damn onions.

Watching Lewellyn calmly ordering additional onions in between Shavonne’s orders, Shavonne suppressed the urge to ask him if he would sell his soul to the onions.

“Garlic and shrimp cooked with olive oil with onions, a peach melba toast and a cheese beetroot salad with onions and a banana flambé that doesn’t smell like cinnamon with onions. Is that right?” The employee confirmed the order.

Shavonne didn’t like the onions on the menu, so it was up to Lewellyn to say yes. The employee said, “I will charge the onion separately” and left. There was no time for Shavonne to protest.

“I’m sick and tired of just hearing onions.” Shavonne spoke curtly.

Lewellyn smiled and smiled. “Relax. People don’t die that easily.”

Let’s not talk… Shavonne breathed a long sigh. It’s a mess. The customers, the menu, and the restaurant.

The restaurant ‘Golly’ was so terrible that he wanted to remove the name ‘restaurant’. Shavonne knew as soon as he entered Golly why did the grocery store owner advise him not to take his lover there.

There were as many as 25 people sitting in the cramped hall that had a limit of ten people. In that situation, the people sitting around tables had to stick together like crabs.

Even if he didn’t want to, Shavonne could hear the next table as well as the others near them. In just three minutes, he could tell whether the people of the next table had a guarantee or which political party they supported or not, so in just 30 minutes, he would be able to know where the people of the next table hid their emergency funds and what was the password for their safe.

However, unfortunately or not, Shavonne and Lewellyn wouldn’t stay for 30 minutes at the restaurant “Golly” to begin with. Of course, he didn’t know where they hid their emergency funds and what was their safe password.

Then, in the table right next to them: “God damn it. I’ve got to earn money and escape as soon as possible, or I will die.”

“What’s going on? Are the caucasians begging for rags from house to house?”

“It would be better if it were them, as I could beat them to death. It’s another murder!”

Murder.

Shavonne winced at the word he was listening to casually. Looking carefully at Lewellyn, he was just looking at the glass of water and didn’t have a significant response.

That’s a relief, but…

“Don’t get agitated, Alan.”

“It’s been a while since the snow stopped, so I went out for a walk, and I saw a dead body in front of my house. How could I not get like this?”

“Maybe it was a beggar that froze to death or a vagrant who died of hunger.”

“Could you have said that even if you saw a body that was so decomposed that you couldn’t tell whether it was a man or a woman by their face?”

His mouth was dry. Shavonne glanced sideways at Lewellyn. Still, Lewellyn was just looking at the glass of water. A man called Alan was talking so loud that he couldn’t understand him, or was he pretending not to know anything even after hearing him?

Shavonne felt like he was holding a time bomb that no one knew when it would explode. He couldn’t stay quiet any longer. Shavonne raised his hand and called the waiter. To his surprise, fortunately, the employee went to Shavonne immediately even with all the noise

“Is there a problem? Of course not, since you’re a gentleman, but I remind you that you can’t cancel the extra onions you ordered because they’re already being cooked.”

It was a joke. Normally, Shavonne would have joked back, but now he couldn’t afford it. Shavonne winked at the table in question and opened his mouth.

“It’s too loud. Can you do something about it?”

“The charm of Golly is that it’s noisy.”

It was a comfortable sound. The server smiled and added. “It’s lively and nice.”

Shavonne looked at the waiter.

Then, he understood. “Fine, fine.”

Only then did the waiter shake his hand and turn to the table in question. But even if he sternly warned them to kick them out of the restaurant if they didn’t keep their manners, things couldn’t have been better as he said, joking “Mr. Alan, the customer at the other table is complaining that you’re being noisy.”.

Rather, it got worse. Maybe it was thought to have been rebuked, but he raised his voice more. His voice was so loud that all the guests at the restaurant found out that the body the man Alan found belonged to a man, a bald one, and that there was a square-shaped wart behind his neck.

Of course, Lewellyn was also included in the ‘all guests’.

“…”

Shavonne almost tore up Lewellyn with his anxious eyes. Still, Lewellyn was just looking at the glass of water and he didn’t have a significant response. As if it had nothing to do with him.

Unfortunately, however, Shavonne knew it had everything to do with Lewellyn.

Even though he tried to ignore it, the noise of the next table was too loud. He felt uneasy, making him sick, as if he were going to throw up right now. If he didn’t do anything, he wouldn’t be able to eat a bite of the food they ordered. Even if he were lucky to eat, he was significantly more likely to have an upset stomach.

All Shavonne could do in this situation is directly protest without having to trouble an employee. Shavonnee, who got up, moved to the table in question. He didn’t know when he saw them from a distance, but when he looked closely, Alan and the others were huge.

Shavonne’s height, too, was above average, but in front of them, he seemed to be an immature teenager. Shavonne thought through the grim impression of Alan and the other ones. Horsemen? Or maybe sailors?

“Excuse me…”

As soon as he started talking, he got cut off.

“Don’t tell me that you think it’s an excuse.”

“.. I’m losing his appetite because of what you’re saying, so please lower your voice, or change the topic.” Shavonne added. “This isn’t your house, right?”

“My house?” Alan deftly raised his eyebrows. Alan, pointing to the hall, said “My living room,” to the kitchen, “my kitchen,” pointing to the counter, “my lobby,” and suddenly pointed to Shavonne with his index finger. “An uninvited guest in my house.”

HeI had no time to be offended by the sudden pointing. A loud laughter resonated as if it was so fun. It wasn’t just the laughter of Alan and the others. All the guests and waiters throughout the hall were giggling out loud. Shavonne felt his face turn cold. Like everyone else, Shavonne wasn’t used to public humiliation.

Then.

“When will the onion dish we ordered come out?”

The words that popped up somewhere, attracted all the attention.

“An olive oil cooked garlic and shrimp with onions, a peach melba toast with onions, a cheese beetroot salad with onions, a banana flambé that doesn’t smell like cinnamon with onions. We ordered, but we haven’t even got the appetizer yet.”

The hall became quiet. It was as if the howl of laughter never happened.

“What the?”

“Who is he?”

Believe it or not, Lewellyn, the one who quieted down the hall, remained naturally calm.

It was Alan who came to his senses first. Alan checked the table where Lewellyn sat. The chair opposite where Lewellyn sat was empty. It was where Shavonne was sitting until a while ago. Alan noticed that Lewellyn and Shavonne were together, so he said mockingly.

“I guess the old saying is right: birds of a feather flock together,” Alan booed. “Are you imbeciles on a date? Mn?”

It was an obvious provocation. At the moment Shavonne tried to refute it with veins popping out of his neck, someone opened his mouth first. It was, of course, Lewellyn, as everyone would expect.

“If you know it’s a date, will you stop ruining it?” replied Lewellyn, not batting an eyebrow. As if it weren’t provocative, “I don’t like my patience to be tested.”

“Oh my, I’m so scared.”

Alan mocked. Shavonne couldn’t stand it.

“Hey, look at me” He put his hand on Alan’s shoulder, standing back from Shavonne. The moment Alan touched his shoulder and hand, he didn’t realize that Alan would suddenly grab Shavonne by the collar and lift it.

Embarrassment came before fear. He wasn’t embarrassed by the collar grab, but by the fact that he was easily lifted like a small, light kid. Shavonne scrambled to pull off Alan’s hands, but nothing came out of it. Shavonne’s hands weren’t able to overpower Alan, as all he could do was chores and constantly tapping on the typewriter for eight hours.

He recalled he asked himself when meeting Alan, whether he was a horseman or a sailor. I couldn’t answer earlier, but now he could say it for sure. He was a sailor. There can’t be such a grasping power without being a sailor.

“Let… Let go…” Shavonne groaned. His neck wasn’t free, so he had to squeeze his whole body to say something. But with Shavonne squeezing his words with all his might, Alan seemed unwilling to let go of Shavonne. At least in the way Shavonne wanted.

Alan tried to beat Shavonne up. Shavonne closed his eyes unknowingly. Shavonne, who expected to roll around the floor in an ugly manner, trembled.

To conclude, Shavonne was concerned about what didn’t happen.

Shavonne wasn’t beaten up and didn’t roll on the floor uglily. It was thanks to Alan’s release of Shavonne, but Alan didn’t intend to do so. The reason was simple. Because when he opened his eyes, Alan had already fallen on the floor.

Until now, Alan’s arms, which were holding Shavonne by the collar, were bent at a strange angle. Alan’s lips screamed, but Lewellyn seemed uninterested.

“I told you, I don’t like my patience to be tested.”

Blood flowed down Alan’s forehead. When he fell, he made a wound on his head that was bleeding, precisely as Lewellyn smashed Alan down to the floor.

Maybe he didn’t like blood. Lewellyn frowned and said, “Oops.” He picked up a napkin and put it on Alan’s face. Whether it was because of the face full of blood or the bloody napkin, he placed a second napkin on it to make it invisible, and a third napkin on it. He even put on the fourth napkin.

Looking down at Alan’s face with four layers of napkins on it, Lewellyn said in a soft voice.

“Don’t ruin my date again.”

The restaurant was silent. Looking down at Alan, Lewellyn looked up at Shavonne. He had a bright face as if nothing had happened.

“By the way, what are we having for dessert?”

Shavonne started hiccuping.

That night, Shavonne woke up at the crack of the door.

Was he having a nightmare? His whole body was covered in cold sweat. He had sweated so much that not only his body but also his bed sheet was damp. Shavonne stood up from bed.

There was nothing outside.

It was quiet. All he heard was the sound of opening and closing the door of Room 303, the thin breathing sound of Shavonne, and the sound of the wind blowing outside the apartment.

He must have misheard. Looking back, the banging sound seemed far from the sound of a nightmare rather than the sound of reality. Shavonne turned around to enter the house and saw the door plate unintentionally. The door plate, which had been placed horizontally and correctly, was slanted.

***

The door plate was tilted again.

Did the door plate tilt arbitrarily when closing the door?

Strange.

Shavonne tilted his head and turned the tilted door plate horizontally. The surface of the door plate was metal-like and smooth. 303. The engraved number was upright, facing Shavonne.

And it wasn’t only the door plate that was facing Shavonne.

‘…’

Lewellyn.

The hardest person to treat is neither a bad nor a good person. He’s someone Shavonne didn’t understand. When they first met, when Lewellyn was sitting in the stairwell of the apartment peeling onions, Lewellyn was a nice person (although somewhat weird), but he turned bad after finding the body at Lewellyn’s house, and incomprehensible after experiencing the commotion at the restaurant “Golly”.

Lewellyn didn’t show a single inch of what was happening through his mind. Shavonne couldn’t tell whether he was uncouth, polite, kind or rude, like Shavonne or not. He was suspicious of him because he couldn’t understand him. He was dangerous because Shavonne couldn’t tell whether he was an ally’s bomb or an enemy’s bomb, it was just a bomb. It was too difficult to get involved with him anymore.

Shavonne still desired to move. Considering Shavonne’s assets, his decision to leave Ira Street was a futile dream, but his decision to leave the apartment building 303 was a promising plan. The first thing Shavonne did was,

『Dear admirable editor,』

That letter would decide his destiny.

The recipient of the letter to Brown Publisher was the respected editor Dawson, the letter to Far Publisher was the respected editor K; to Peer Publisher, the respected Oscar editor, etc.

(Borrowing the explanation of Dr. Fakwes) Dawson, who argued that the books should be unconditionally sensational, K, believed that doing proofreading was useless, and the three editors who criticized Shavonne, who absolutely praised and never criticized the royal family, were upgraded overnight to the great men who Shavonne admired.

He was glad that Dr. Fakwes didn’t know this, and if he had, he would have teased him for a long time, saying, “I didn’t know your world could collapse so easily, hahaha.”

『… (Strategy).. Admirable editor, we are living in the most dangerous era of chaos since the beginning of history. Have you ever met a sea storm while sailing? As if it were to be wrecked in the event of a sea storm, the ship fluctuates, the rain and wind that wet the anchor, and the sea water that blows over the deck hold the sailor’s breath. The fear and the pain, the darkness and the cold, the water and the wind, all felt like eternal hell. Time passes by. While the sun is high and cool, a swarm of seagulls across the sky cries loudly. Upon arriving home safely, the sailors sent kisses to the Big Dipper to look after them, and they were drinking, singing and dancing. Then, they got ready for a new voyage. The same goes for the chaos we live in. Chaos that feels like eternal hell passes like a storm. If it’s alcohol, singing and dancing and kissing left by sailors, what the chaotic human being will leave behind will be a record of hope for posterity. I would like to have the honor of writing the record of hope with your company… (Rest omitted)…』

To sum up in one line, he said, ‘Please let me get a job’.

Dawson of Brown Publishing sent:

『You’ve never written a long novel, have you?』

Kay of Far Publishing sent:

『Shorten your letter to less than ten words.』

Oscar of Peer Publishing sent:

『What nonsense to say that the royal family is in an era of chaos when they’re strong. We’ll sue you for defaming the royal family if you send us this stern letter one more time.』

Fuck. Nothing worked.

The next day, and the next day, and the next day were days of rejection. When asked, “What can you do?” The interviewers asked one by one straightforwardly, or as if they were sharing their mind, “I’m sorry, but a novel…”

Of course, it isn’t necessary to say that the interviewers who said so didn’t actually give him the job. Some people asked, “What do you write?” with half courtesy and half curiosity, but they were also interested without hesitation when they found out that Shavonne was a ghostwriter who didn’t have a book with his name.

‘I will contact you by mail’ It was only Deck Publisher that said that. Shavonne thought it would be all talk. His intuition said that there wouldn’t even be a post notifying him if he had passed, let alone a post notifying him of his failure.

It wasn’t only the publishers who abandoned Shavonne. This was the case in mansions looking for workers to do chores in a short period of time, auction houses looking for gravediggers. He said that he would do whatever, but there was no place for Shavonne.

It is true that mental pain eats away at the body. Shavonne lost 4 kilograms while looking for a job. His face was sunken, his face darkened, and dark circles were all the way down to his cheekbones.

Maybe Deck Publishing sent him the letter, Shavonne opened the mailbox. His intuition was saying that the mail wouldn’t come, but he tried to ignore it. He couldn’t ignore it so he wouldn’t let his hope go away. Of course the mailbox was empty. He let out a sigh.

“Ha.”

At that time, someone knocked his back.

Tap, tap.

It wasn’t a hand tapping his back. Unlike human flesh, it wasn’t soft and firm. Furthermore, it had a unique scent different from body odor.

For example, onions.

“Are you busy these days?”

It was Lewellyn.

Shavonne wanted to ignore him, but it was wise not to. Ignore him and he’ll get revenge. Keeping a clear distance is a shortcut to ruining their relationship.

Lewellyn was his neighbor. A quick-witted neighbor.

A freelance ghostwriter, whose job is in his home, will know that going out every day means having no work or avoiding it. Shavonne decided not to lie. He’d hate being criticized for telling a shallow lie.

“… so it was Dawson, K, Oscar, and so on.” Shavonne said the truth with a poker face while shrugging. “Well, maybe it’s because I was unlucky.”

But the only thing Shavonne overlooked was that he was dealing with Lewellyn, not someone ordinary.

“It’s not luck what you didn’t have.”

Lewellyn smiled.

“Then what?”

“Three things.” Lewellyn raised his three fingers and picked them up. “First, intelligence. Second, thought. Third, awareness.”

He didn’t think someone would recommended to commit suicide with a smile. Shavonne frowned.

“You’re not much of a showman, if it’s not an auction house, it wouldn’t be bad, but anyway, it’s an auction house that you applied for, and you’re not brave enough to be a gravedigger.”

Without a chance for Shavonne to stop him, Lewellyn pulled Shavonne’s hand and said, “Look, Mr. Shavonne, you’ve got calluses on your fingertips and your middle finger joints, right? That’s not because of menial work. You have calluses elsewhere.”

Lewellyn scanned between Shavonne’s thumb and index finger. As if he were caressing. “Here,” then lightly pressed as if he was playing, and continued. “Here,” it was in the palm of his hand. Lewellyn’s fingers tickled in circles over the palm of his hand. It flowed down the palm, then came back. “And here.”

Shavonne pulled his hand back. Between the thumb and index finger that Lewellyn pointed out, the cheeks and palms were pricked like thorns.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing really.”

Lewellyn laughed. It was a bright smile.

“I’m rooting for you.”

That was the moment when Shavonne decided to leave the apartment No. 303.

The next morning, Shavonne, who lost 4.2 kilograms, looked hollow like yesterday. “Did Deck publisher send me the mail?” He left room 303 and was about to go to the lobby of the apartment building where the mailbox was located, and ran into Lewellyn, who was peeling onions on the stairs of the apartment.

“Hi.”

It was Lewellyn who said hello first. It’s like Lewellyn gets thorns on his tongue if he doesn’t greet him.

“Yes. Hello.” Shavonne tilted his head halfheartedly. It was a short answer because he didn’t want the conversation to be prolonged, but seeing how Lewellyn answered with those puppy eyes, it seems that the effect wasn’t very good.

“Are you serious? You didn’t look like a ‘heya’ person.” Shavonne was silent for a moment. “… When I talk to you, I feel like I’m taking a final exam.”

He made a sudden confession. How long it’s been since Shavonne told him something that is neither false nor shameless. Looking back, it felt somewhat distant.

Lewellyn smiled. “Don’t take it back.”

***

At 11 p.m, Shavonne, who had now lost 4.21 kilograms, left Room 303 to check the mailbox. He thought, ‘Maybe Deck Publisher sent me the letter‘. He didn’t meet Lewellyn because he wasn’t on the stairs that late.

The mailbox wasn’t empty. The problem, however, was that there was no ‘mail’.

‘What?’

Shavonne frowned. Soon after, Shavonne took it out of the mailbox: it was a cup, a cup with lemon juice. Shavonnee wasn’t thirsty enough to drink an unidentified lemon juice that might be poisoned. Shavonne threw away the lemon juice.

The next night at 10 o’clock, Shavonne, who had now lost 4.23 kilograms, leftleft Room 303 to check the mailbox. He thought, ‘Maybe Deck Publisher sent me the letter‘. He didn’t meet Lewellyn because he wasn’t on the stairs that late.

There wasn’t a letter in the mailbox. There was only lemon juice. It was in a different cup from yesterday, and there was a post office stamp on the cup.

‘What?’

Shavonne threw it away

At twelve o’clock the next night, Shavonne, who had now lost 4.25 kilograms, left Room 303 to check the mailbox. He thought, ‘Maybe Deck Publisher sent me the letter‘. He didn’t meet Lewellyn because he wasn’t on the stairs that late.

There wasn’t a letter in the mailbox. There was only lemon juice. It was in a different cup from yesterday, and a note was attached to the cup with a post office stamp.

『 Drink me ;D』

It was him. The guy who sent Shavonne a note saying, ‘With a weather like this, when you go out put on a coat or you’ll freeze:)‘ or the note with the angel ‘You were fined 3 ronas. Keep one O:)‘. He had forgotten about it because that guy hadn’t appeared for a while, but he was still wandering around Shavonne.

“Drink me.” There was a passage of a fairy tale he read at the orphanage more than 20 years ago. When she took the medicine that said, “Drink me,” it was a story about the main character getting bigger or smaller… He had almost forgotten.

Shavonne wrote a reply rejecting lemon juice. It was a ‘rejection’ because he liked the words, but he rejected the cup.

『Drink it. 』

The next night at eleven o’clock, Shavonne, who had now lost 4.25 kilograms, left Room 303 to check the mailbox. He thought, ‘Maybe Deck Publisher sent me the letter‘. He didn’t meet Lewellyn because he wasn’t on the stairs that late.

There was lemon juice in the mailbox. There was also a post office stamp and a reply note.

『There is no cyanide nor strychnine. 』

And there was a postscript beneath it.

『I didn’t even put onions >:(.』

…

‘With a weather like this, when you go out, put on a coat or you’ll freeze:)‘ and ‘You were fined 3 ronas. Keep one O:)‘, were they all notes written by Lewellyn?

He didn’t know.

He didn’t notice. Lewellyn’s notes on door No. 303 were written on a typewriter, and Lewellyn’s sentences in the booklet “The True Foreign Language” were handwritten, so he didn’t notice.

Shavonne threw away the lemon juice again. The difference from the last time was that this time he just threw away the juice and didn’t throw away the cup containing the juice. He could not know the owner, but he did, so he couldn’t just ignore it.

Thinking, ‘I’ll take care of it.’ Shavonne put the cup down in front of room 302. It was then that the door of Room 302 opened with a loud noise. Lewellyn said with a bitter expression that screamed ‘unfair’..

“Why didn’t you drink the juice? What? Do you want to get scurvy?”

Huh. Shavonne snorted inwardly and replied.

“I’ll do what I want.”

Then he turned his back to Room 303. Shavonne scanned the door unconsciously, and came across the door plate. Not long ago, he set it horizontally. He remembered clearly that the door plate’s smooth texture wrapped around his hand.

The door plate was tilted.

Why does the door plate keep tilting? Just in case, Shavonne opened and closed Door 303 hard, weak, slow, and fast, but the door plate remained the same. He could knock or bang on the door or something but it didn’t tilt. Maybe it was because of a timid ghost’s prank or a poor construction.

Just as few people could be calm to see a suspicious symbol scribbled next to their door, few people could be calm to see the door plate tilted arbitrarily. And Shavonne didn’t belong to those ‘few ones’. Even if there was no direct damage, he didn’t like it.

Shavonne naturally visited the apartment management office. He hoped that they would provide a solution, whether it was because of poor construction, a psychic phenomenon, or other reasons. The problem was that Shavonne’s visit to the management office may have been natural for him, but not for managers.

Their reaction to his suggestion was chilly.

“Why are you making a fuss about the door plate?”

The janitor laughed at him

“What a scaredy cat.”

And then they stopped paying him attention. It was as if he were invisible. He didn’t even seem to care about the sign of popularity. Would it have been like this if he weren’t a resident of the apartment building? No, it wouldn’t have been like this if it weren’t for the ghostwriter No. 303 who split the monthly rent. His anger flowed to his throat.

“I’m not making a fuss. I’m not a scaredy cat.”

Shavonne said.

“I’m demanding my rights.”

One janitor took his eyes off the newspaper he was reading and looked at Shavonne, while the other threw him a glance while drinking water. Shavonne went on with his words, pretending to be calm. He had a stiff voice to control his emotions.

“Aren’t you janitors whose work is repairing, improving and maintaining this place? Am I wrong?”

The janitor made a loud noise with the newspaper. His big eyes turned to Shavonne.

“Do you think this is the Arun Palace (*the current official palace of the King)? or Hotel Surral (*the best hotel on Bunch)?”

“Of course not, but…”

“Move out if you have any complaints.”

Shavonne saw no hesitation in the face of the manager. It was common knowledge that the poorer the street, the worse it was to be treated as a tenant, but it was his first time to witness this much. Shavonne looked up at the janitor with a stunned face as if he had been hit in the back of his head by a hammer. “Are you serious?”

“I mean it.”

The warden was adamant. Shavonne stepped down. Shortly before leaving the administration, Shavonne heard the voices of the vainglorious janitors over Shavonne. Insults and gossip.

Shavonne thought quietly. I hope that the janitor’s house will also have the curse that the door plate tilts every day.

That day, Shavonne visited many of Bunch’s building offices. It was to seek advice on whether the curse was caused by architectural errors. Of course, they were also businesses so there was no place to consult Shavonne’s concerns for free. Except for one place, Mr. Bacon’s building office.

Mr. Bacon was frowning as if he were recalling his memories after muttering that it was an apartment.

“What kind of door?”

He asked.

Mr. Bacon’s building office had doors of various shapes, including a round door, a square door, a gate of less than a meter, a door of more than three meters, and a door painted in blue, red and green, and Shavonne pointed to one of them.

“Where’s the door plate located?”

“Like this…”

Shavonne pointed to the head of the door.

“Are you sure it’s this high?” Mr. Bacon frowned. “No way.”

Mr. Bacon said it was defective. Mr. Bacon argued that the door plate should be set up a below what Shavonne pointed to. Shavonne wondered about his neighbours. He could hardly recall it.

I’m Shavonne who doesn’t even say hello to his neighbor when I meet them. There was no way I would have been interested in my neighbor’s door or door plate.

But when he was about to say, “I don’t know” the door of room 302 suddenly flashed in front of him. Room 302. The day Lewellyn invited him, and didn’t know whether he had to knock three times when calling or not, so he had stayed in front of the door for more than three minutes.

As Mr. Bacon said, the door plate of Room 302 had been set up one hand below the door plate of Room 303.

“It must be a real defect” mumbled Shavonne.

“Fix it” Bacon said, adding that he would offer to replace the door at a bargain price. Shavonne delayed his answer, saying he would think about it.

It was 10:30 p.m. when Shavonne returned to the Ira apartment. When he stood in front of room 303, he saw the door plate. The door plate was tilted again. He pushed it up and the door plate was returned horizontally. The sound of the door plate and the angler of the support rang out “click.”. At that moment, something came to his mind.

Shavonne pushed the door plate and then tilted it. There was no sound.

By any chance…

Raising his heels, Shavonne checked the door plate. To be exact, the place where the plaque is covered when it is horizontally placed and exposed when it was tilted. It was a wooden black door and he couldn’t face it with his height, so he didn’t know until now, but there was a hole the size of a baby nail.

You can look inside with a hole the size of a baby nail. Shavonne was aware of the fact.

It’s a stalker.