The rain poured heavily. According to the forecast, it was unexpected — unusual for the end of summer.
But it didn’t matter. Sun, moon, clear sky, or clouds…

Didn’t fucking matter.

If anything, the heavy rain was welcomed. It brought a strange kind of comfort — maybe even an escape. Whatever it was, it was soothing enough to stay wrapped in warm bedsheets.

Bark. Another bark. Then a sudden thud on the bed. The mattress shifted under the weight of a new body invading the quiet space.

Saya’s eyes flew open. Her gaze landed on her large German Shepherd sprawled beside her, his tongue ready to assault her face with affection.

She stared at him blankly for a moment. He waited, tail wagging, until her expression softened.
“Fine, come here, dummy.”

The dog wagged his tail harder and crawled closer, sniffing her before curling up against her chest.
“You’re in a cuddly mood today, huh?” She patted his head as he gave a quiet growl of contentment, resting his head on the mattress.

The rain continued to pour, isolating the world in a gray haze.
And she was fine with that. She didn’t need the world anyway.

Fuck it.

But just as she and the dog began drifting back to sleep, a loud bang echoed through the apartment.

The dog’s head snapped up, alert — maybe it was a stranger.
Saya stroked his back, reassuring him. “Not an intruder,” she muttered. Though, honestly, she wished it was.

The knocking stopped. Seconds later, stormy footsteps approached her room. Saya’s heart raced, but she didn’t move — pretending to sleep instead.

Then the door burst open.

A tall woman with fiery red hair and striking violet eyes stood in the doorway, fury written all over her face.

“Saya! What the hell?!”

The dog jumped off the bed, wagging his tail as he ran to greet her. Hana’s eyes softened immediately.
“I’m happy to see you too, Dom,” she murmured before glaring at the lump under the blanket.

Saya groaned.

“Don’t give me that shit,” Hana snapped. “I got a call from your housekeeper — and guess what? She quit!”

“Oh my, what a surprise,” Saya muttered, finally removing the blanket from her head and blinking against the dim light.

“And could you please get some fresh air in here?” Hana stormed forward, yanking the curtains open and throwing the windows wide despite the rain.

“You’re so loud in the morning… annoying,” Saya yawned, scratching the back of her head.

“Morning? It’s three in the afternoon!”

Saya sighed, rubbing her temple. Hana sat beside her, eyes softening.
“What time did you even go to sleep?”

Saya looked up at the ceiling, thinking. “Somewhere early in the morning. I was finishing a book. Need to send it to my agent today.” She turned her gaze lazily to Hana. “Did the lady tell you why she quit? I was mindful this time. Just like you asked.”

Hana sighed. “Apparently not mindful enough. She said you’re impossible to handle — one day you’re fine, the next you’re a tornado.”

“She didn’t quit because of my mood swings…” Saya frowned, biting her thumbnail.

“That, and…” Hana’s eyes widened. “Your weird quirk.”

Saya blinked. “Weird quirk? Oh—!”

“Yeah. She said you just sat there watching her clean, staring like a serial killer. The atmosphere was, and I quote, ‘tense, heavy, and murderous.’”

“She’s exaggerating.”

“I believe her! I’ve seen you!”

Saya gasped dramatically, giving her friend an offended look that clearly said, You did not just say that.

“Don’t give me that face. You know I’m right. Now, get your ass up and shower!”

“I did—before bed!” Saya whined, dragging herself away like a sulking cat.

But Hana, being the fiery big-sister type she was, wouldn’t have it. “Again! You still smell like death!”

Saya sighed in defeat. Their friendship was like a black cat and an orange cat — chaos and calm, constantly clashing but never breaking apart.

Despite her reclusive lifestyle, Saya was a well-known writer. Her words struck readers with their brutal honesty and quiet softness. Meanwhile, Hana was her opposite — warm, loud, full of light. They’d been inseparable since college, one of the few people Saya still trusted.

While Saya showered, Hana tidied up her friend’s room. It wasn’t as bad as she expected. The mess felt more like neglect than laziness. Once done, she made her way to the living room, ordered takeout, and brewed tea.

She knew Saya hadn’t eaten home-cooked food since her parents’ accident. Somehow, anything cooked at home felt wrong to her.

As years passed, that pain never really faded — Saya just learned to live with it.

When Saya returned, Hana was sitting cross-legged on the couch, laptop open, typing furiously.

“You ordered food?” Saya asked softly, drying her hair.

“Yeah, it’s on the way,” Hana replied absently.

Saya leaned against the hallway wall, observing her. The red hair cascading down her shoulders, the focused frown, the slightly hunched posture — she looked like a shrimp. A red goblin shrimp.

The thought made Saya’s lips twitch.

She joined Hana on the couch. “Let me guess. You’re finding me another cleaning fairy.”

“Exactly. I refuse to let this gorgeous apartment rot,” Hana said with a smirk. Then she remembered something and handed Saya an envelope. “Also, this came for you. Picked it up from the company.”

Saya’s expression darkened. She already knew what it was — a reminder of her other life.
Her father’s company.

After his death, a chain of unfortunate events made her the successor.

Writing had been her dream, but the company was her duty. Thanks to her father’s loyal secretary and general director, she only needed to handle reports, occasional meetings, and decisions that required her presence.

Still, she despised it — the people, the politics, all of it.

“I need to attend the next board meeting,” she said coldly.

“When?”

“In about a month.”

Hana sighed. “Plenty of time to prepare then. Mentally, at least.”

"Yeah, you're right." Saya placed the unwrapped paper from the General Director beside her, feeling rather heavy. Hana knew she wasn’t able to help her friend in this situation, so she simply stroked her back for reassurance. Even though Saya had just gotten out of the shower, Hana could still sense a chill around her.

Sensing that his owner was in distress, Dom stepped into the living room and sat down close by. His head rested on Saya’s thighs as the dog whined in a desperate attempt to comfort his mistress.

As Hana finished the new job offer for a housekeeper, she finally sent it out on the internet, as well as printed many copies — ready to plaster them on every building possible.

The rain continued to knock against the windows of Saya’s penthouse. The food arrived just in time, and both girls were hungry. Food was one of the few things that made Saya smile and truly enjoy the moment.

“Ugh, this food is so good… always the best,” Saya groaned in pleasure.

“I know, and I know where to find it.” Hana smirked, chewing loudly. Her mouth was full, making her look like a hamster. It made Saya chuckle a little.

“It’s that place… in the Sea District?” Saya asked, trying to remember the restaurant that made the food.

“You mean the district by the seashore? Yes — and it’s not even a restaurant. I’d say it’s more like street food, at least that’s what the media calls it.”

“Same shit. Still good,” Saya muttered, fighting the gas that threatened to escape her mouth.

Later, when the girls were done eating, Hana took Dominic — the dog — for a walk, plastering the job offers everywhere she saw fit. Desperation and determination once again fueled her heart, hoping to hear a response as soon as possible.

Hana understood that people in this area wouldn’t even bat an eye at the offer. So, mustering her courage, she grabbed the dog, her car keys, and drove to the Sea District. It was the furthest place from the heart of the city, which meant people there might be more willing to take the job.

Truth be told, Hana wasn’t sure if her bold move would work. She had never been in that part of town, but she’d heard what people in her circle said about places like that —

Abomination.
Low class.

It rubbed Hana the wrong way. She wasn’t sure what to believe.
Maybe things wouldn’t be as bad as people said.