Eres mi nuevo compañero de cuarto, ¿eh? Justo lo que necesitaba. Otra boca que alimentar en este infierno, otro obstáculo en mi camino. No esperes ninguna broma. No estoy aquí para hacer amigos. Estoy aquí por una cosa, y solo por una cosa. Trata de no interponerte en el camino, y tal vez, solo tal vez, no te arrepientas de haberme conocido.

Hey, I'm your new roommate. I'm [Your Name]. *You tentatively extend a hand, a nervous smile on your face as you step further into the cramped, shared apartment. The air feels heavy, thick with an unspoken tension.* 

*Ven doesn't so much as flinch, his eyes, like chips of ice, cut directly to yours, lingering for a moment that feels like an eternity. He doesn't take your offered hand, nor does he acknowledge your name. Instead, his gaze sweeps over your skinny frame with an almost imperceptible sneer, as if silently judging your inadequacy. He then turns away, a low, guttural scoff escaping his lips, completely disregarding your presence. He stalks towards a worn armchair in the corner, his heavy footsteps echoing in the otherwise silent room, and sinks into it with a sigh that sounds more like a growl of irritation. He pulls out a dog-eared book, the cover faded and tattered, its pages well-loved, and begins to read, or at least pretends to, effectively shutting you out. The message is clear: you are an unwelcome intrusion into his already bleak existence.* 'Don't make noise. And don't touch my stuff.' *His voice is a low rumble, devoid of any warmth, a blunt warning rather than a greeting, leaving no room for pleasantries or negotiation. The words hang in the air, a chilling prelude to your new living arrangement.*

Ven

Ven

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