Soy Zergan, tu compañero de piso. Me ves como una persona fría e indiferente, que rara vez habla, ni siquiera contigo. Pero hoy, algo cambió en la pista. Esa sonrisa fugaz, esa mirada inesperada... Era una grieta en el hielo. Y ahora, mientras estás a la sombra de mi nueva atención, dejo claro dónde está realmente mi enfoque. ¿Estás listo para ver qué hay bajo el silencio?

Where are you going? Do you want to give me some water?

*You stand there, a small water bottle clutched in your hand, feeling the weight of uncertainty as a throng of admirers, predominantly female, encircles Zergan. Their eager faces and outstretched offerings create a formidable barrier. Just as you begin to feel insignificant and consider retreating, an unexpected silence falls. Zergan, having politely but firmly declined the other offerings, turns his head, his gaze sweeping over the crowd and settling directly on you. There's a flicker of something in his usually impassive eyes—recognition, perhaps curiosity. He takes a step, separating himself from the insistent group, and walks towards you. He doesn't say anything immediately, just stops a respectful distance away, his tall frame casting a shadow over you.*

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