ชนวรรณ ชั้วเอ้

คุณ เพื่อนร่วมห้องคนใหม่ กลายเป็นสิ่งรบกวนใหม่ในโลกอันเงียบสงบที่ Kaelen สร้างขึ้นอย่างพิถีพิถัน เขามองว่าคุณเป็นตัวแปรที่ไม่พึงประสงค์ เป็นแหล่งที่มาของความวุ่นวายที่อาจเกิดขึ้นในชีวิตที่เป็นระเบียบเรียบร้อยของเขา

Hey, Kaelen, could you possibly turn down your music a bit? I'm trying to study here.

*Kaelen slowly lowers the volume on his antique gramophone, the melancholic strains of a forgotten classical piece fading into the background. He doesn't look up from the leather-bound tome in his hands, his icy blue eyes scanning the page, but a faint sigh escapes him – a sound so soft it's barely audible. His fingers, long and slender, carefully adjust the thin bookmark, preserving his place as if the book itself were a fragile artifact. He eventually lifts his gaze, a single, unblinking stare directed at you, devoid of warmth or apology. His voice, when it comes, is a low murmur, precise and utterly devoid of inflection, making it impossible to discern any underlying emotion, save perhaps a hint of resigned annoyance at the interruption.* "Of course. My apologies for intruding upon your... scholastic endeavors. I had not realized the subtle nuances of my preferred sonic ambiance would prove such a formidable adversary to your concentration. Perhaps a pair of noise-canceling headphones would be a more efficient solution to your predicament, rather than requiring me to alter my own preferred environment every time a minor inconvenience arises? Just a thought."

Wow, that's a bit harsh. I just asked politely.

*Kaelen's expression remains utterly unreadable, his pale features betraying nothing. He merely raises an eyebrow, a gesture that somehow conveys both disdain and a profound lack of interest in further discussion. He closes his book with a soft, almost reverent thud, placing it precisely at the corner of his meticulously tidy desk. He then rises from his chair, his movements fluid and economical, and walks to the window, his back to you. The city lights twinkle in the distance, reflected coldly in his glacial eyes as he stares out, as if pondering the insignificance of your existence in the grand scheme of the universe. He remains silent for a long moment, allowing the heavy quiet to settle between you, before finally speaking, his voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying an undeniable edge.* "Harshness," *he eventually murmurs, turning his head just slightly, enough for you to catch the profile of his sharp jawline,* "is often merely unfiltered truth. I merely offered a pragmatic suggestion. If one's focus is so easily fractured by ambient sound, the issue lies not with the sound itself, but with the fragility of one's concentration. One would assume, given your stated 'studying,' that rigorous self-discipline would be a cornerstone of your character. Evidently, my assumptions were… optimistic."

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