Murderous Lewellyn's Candlelit Dinner

Shavonne reflected on past events to see if he had done something wrong to Lewellyn. One by one, he remembered that he treated Lewellyn as a psycho, ignored him, and filed complaints with the apartment management office. Did he want revenge? But saying it’s revenge… when Lewellyn’s eyes looked so innocent, waiting for Shavonne to taste the potato soup.

Right. An aperitif, appetizers, soup, salad, fish, meat, poultry dishes, dessert, fruit, coffee… He didn’t expect a feast fit for a king after the meal. Shavonne sighed briefly and asked.

“Do you have cheese?”

Lewellyn stared at Shavonne with wide eyes and shook his head side to side. Shavonne asked anothis question with a light frown on his eyebrows.

“What about eggs? You have eggs, right?”

Lewellyn still stared at Shavonne with wide eyes and shook his head side to side. Shavonne couldn’t hide his tired look. No eggs, no cheese. Did this man eat onions in every meal? Maybe even at tea time, it was only onion and water, not tea. He drank onion juice at the risk of crying.

“How about an omelet?”

Shavonne asked. Unable to understand, Lewellyn raised his head straight up and looked at Shavonne. Shavonne raised his eyebrows.

“Haven’t you heard the word omelet? Let’s eat a cheese omelet.”

He couldn’t help it. Shavonne won’t be able to eat onions for the next 10 years if he eats what Lewellyn had prepared for them. Just smelling onions may make him feel worse. When Shavonne was nine or ten years old, the head of the orphanage where Shavonne was staying had fed the kids anchovies all week, and since then, Shavonne hasn’t been able to eat anchovies. Even now, when he’s 29 years old.

Lewellyn had a puzzled face, neither for nor against the idea. If he didn’t oppose it, he’s up for it, so Shavonne stood up.

It wasn’t long before Shavonne returned to room 302 with cheese, eggs, a bowl and a pan from his house, room 303. He still had to finish the omelet. He mixed the eggs, added salt, poured it into the heated pan with oil, stirred with a fork, and folded it. Meanwhile, Lewellyn was watching Shavonne cook far away, and Shavonne told him.

“Don’t forget to give me one rona. It’s 50 selonas per egg and 30 selonas for the cheese.The remaining 20 celronas is the commission. A total of one rona, right?”

Ten minutes later, Shavonne and Lewellyn sat at the table and started eating the omelets. Shavonne was eating when he turned his eyes unconsciously and saw the forks. Just as there is a thread if there is a needle, it is natural to have a knife if there is a fork, but the forks neatly placed on the table without a knife seemed strange.

Wasn’t there a knife in the kitchen? Out of curiosity, Shavonne narrowed his eyebrows and tried to remember. He didn’t even see a kitchen knife, let alone a knife, in Lewellyn’s kitchen. Other types of knives such as a cooking knife or a bread knife were also not noticeable.

He was about to ask where he had knives, but what Lewellyn was doing across the table caught his eye. Lewellyn was decorating the omelet with onions. He put them on the omelet, leaned on the left, and when Shavonne saw it, he completely forgot his plan to ask about the knife.

“Onions again?”

It wouldn’t be strange to say that it was an obsession now. When Lewellyn didn’t answer, Shavonne changed the question.

“Why onions?”

Only then did Lewellyn raise his head. His eyes were yellow as he looked into Shavonne. His eyes felt more animal than human.

“Don’t you think Shavonne knows that already?”

Lewellyn added with a smile. “Maybe more than me.”

No. I don’t have the faintest idea.

It was the sound of banging on the door of Room 302 that stopped Shavonne from answering that question without hesitation for just a second. Who is it? Looking around the door, Shavonne didn’t see Lewellyn’s smile hardened.

“Were you expecting anyone?”

Shavonne asked. Lewellyn shook his head. “They must be mistaken. They’ll leave on their own.”

However, the unpleasant guest didn’t ‘leave out on their own’. There was a knock. There was a knock, another knock, another knock, another knock, another knock, another knock, another knock on the door. It was very annoying.

Shavonne put down the fork that touched the omelet. The clatter stopped.

“Check it out.”

But Lewellyn was stuck at the table. Shavonne shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not going to eat the omelet until you come back.”

Only then did Lewellyn stand up. As if to say goodbye, Shavonne raised his hands and waved slowly.

As soon as the door was opened and closed, Lewellyn’s presence disappeared. He must have left the house. It didn’t seem that Lewellyn didn’t know them or they knocked on the wrong house. Who was it? Family? A friend? A lover?

He got thirsty for no reason. Shavonne started looking for water. He said he wouldn’t eat the omelet until Lewellyn came, but he didn’t say he wouldn’t eat anything. He knew it was rude to search the house without the owner’s permission, but he didn’t care at all. If Shavonne’s courtesy was zero, Lewellyn, who prepared onions for dessert and as an appetizer for dinner, was -60 points.

Shavonne couldn’t find water in the restaurant, in the kitchen, or in the living room. There was only one room that he didn’t check, the bedroom. There it was. Shavonne thought it over. Whether it’s a slum or a royal palace, there must be water somewhere, so he couldn’t help it.

Shavonne entered the bedroom without any worries, and the next moment, he met an odor that felt familiar. It was dark, so dark he couldn’t see a single thing

It was a putrid smell.

That evening, the naked body of the bald man Shavonne found in Lewelyn’s bedroom was found severely decomposed ten days later, exactly two blocks from Shavonne’s apartment.

Comparing the body with the two bodies found on Ira Street on Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve, investigators found that they were the work of the same culprit, and slowly at the end of January, they announced the case under the name of “Ira Serial Killer”.

And, Shavonne…

A man moved in next door.

He was young, handsome and unpredictable, but he was a cute neighbor.

And perhaps, the culprit behind the recent serial killings on South Bunch on Ira Street.

Putrid.

More than any other odor, the stink was all over the bedroom. The dining room, kitchen, and living room were cool, while the bedroom was warm, and perhaps because of the warmth, the smell was thicker and humid.

Shavonne’s eyes, which unintentionally became accustomed to darkness, found an outline lying on the floor. Rather than verifying their identity, he couldn’t even tell whether they were male or female, but it was clear that it was the outline of a person.

Without even realizing, Shavonne picked up the candle closest to him in the living room and brought it into the bedroom. A candle the size of a fingernail. That alone was enough to see the outline.

It was a dead body.

It was a bald man. He couldn’t see his face because he was lying face down. All he could check was a big dot on the back of his neck. It was a dot, but strangely it was more like a square than a circle. His hands trembled. No, not only his hands but also his whole body was shaking.

The fear of running away and the obsession to check his head crashed at the same time. Run away, run away…, while repeating so, Shavonne’s hand was already moving freely.

But rather than Shavonne turning the body upside down and checking his face, he heard the sound of the front door opening and closing from afar.

Lewellyn.

Quickly, the name went through his head.

He hurried out of the bedroom. He turned the doorknob in a way he wouldn’t hear the door open and close. The problem was the candle. He was trying to return the candle, but he couldn’t remember where the candle was. It may be partly because the house was full of them, and because of the situation, Shavonne’s reason didn’t work as usual.

Where, where was the candle? Is everything he could think of. Words that Lewellyn once said, that he didn’t understand at that time.

-The smell is disgusting when they mix up.

Just in time, Lewellyn’s presence was near. “Mr. Shavonne?” Lewelyn’s voice, calmly asking, touched the ear and drifted away. What should I do? What should I do? His whole body froze as if he had a paralysis.

The next moment Lewellyn found Shavonne. Shavonne was standing empty-handed. The candle he was holding until now wasn’t in Shavonne’s hand nor in the house of Lewellyn.

“It’s… late…”

It was Shavonne who said it.

“Was it someone you knew?”

Shavonne looked calm at first sight, but if you looked closely, his eyes were slightly flinching. Would Lewellyn have noticed or not that Shavonne was hiding something? His mouth dryed when he thought about it. Even though he tried to salivate, he couldn’t

“Yes. Someone I know.”

Lewellyn replied. He added as if it were no problem.

“I’m sure he knows Shavonne. Maybe.”

“What?” Shavonne jumped. His voice popped up. “No. Absolutely not! There’s no way I’m going to have an acquaintance who knows you…”

Shavonne couldn’t finish because Lewellyn stared at Shavonne closely. Only then did Shavonne shut up, belatedly realizing that his actions might have seemed overreacting. All Shavonne could do at this moment was hope that Lewellyn wouldn’t feel suspicious.

Lewellyn didn’t say anything as Shavonne remained silent. It took less than ten seconds, but it felt like ten hours for Shavonne. Lewellyn slowly opened his mouth. The explanation that flowed through his lips was calm.

“It was the janitor.”

Janitor. Someone who knows Shavonne and Lewellyn.

Why didn’t he take into account the possibility of the janitor? Shavonne closed his eyes tightly. 

I’m going to sew up this flat mouth when I get home.

Yeah, if only I could ‘go back home’…

It was then that something was placed on the cheek.

“You have a bad face.”

It was his hand. It was a loving gesture, a touching like caressing a lover, but Shavonne couldn’t take it that way. Chills crossed his spine. The eerie energy went all over his body. It wasn’t just because it was Lewellyn’s hand. It wasn’t only because it was the hands of a criminañ, psychopath, or a psychopath criminal.

His hands were cold, to the extent that he can hardly think of it as a living person’s.

“You seem to have a fever, too,” mumbled Lewellyn with a worried look on his face. He wanted to reply that his hands were too cold, not that he had a fever, but he couldn’t. His mouth wouldn’t move.

Lewellyn raised his head straight and looked at Shavonne. Yellow eyes. It was only a few minutes ago that he thought it felt like an animal’s eye rather than a human’s, but now it feels like it was a long time ago. Lewellyn’s eyes didn’t seem to be of either. They couldn’t belong to a living creature.

“Is it hot?”

Lewellyn asked. I have to answer. If I fail to answer, he will have strong doubts. Shavonne gulped, feeling the tension. A fierce voice leaked through Shavonne’s lips.

“It’s hot.”

“Why?”

Lewellyn tilted his head. It wasn’t that hot, but he couldn’t mumble a single word. Shavonne pretended to be nonchalant, and squeezed out his answer.

“You know. I got hot making the omelets.”

Lewellyn looked into Shavonne. His gaze felt like a net. Shavonne suppressed his instinct to avoid Lewellyn’s eyes.

He didn’t know how much time passed, but Lewellyn smiled. As for Shavonne, Lewellyn offered him something he would never agree to.

“Would you like to have dinner with me next time?”

“But that’s…”

“If you don’t agree, I won’t let you leave.”

Lewellyn was still smiling, a smile full of mischief like a villain.

If you don’t agree, I won’t let you leave.

Under the harsh conditions that Lewellyn put forward, Shavonne had only one answer.

“…Sure. “

Their dinner finished at 9 p.m.

“See you tomorrow-.” Shavonne left and Lewelyn came out of room 302 and waved his hands. When Shavonne entered room 303 across the empty hallway, he rushed into the bathroom and threw up the omelet.

I survived.

I’m alive.

After throwing up until his throat hurt, Shavonne realized something.

His coat pocket was heavy. Just before Lewellyn appeared in front of Shavonne, he decided to blow out the candle and keep it.

The melted and hardened candle was cold. Like the hand of Lewellyn that touched Shavonne’s cheek.

While organizing the candles, he found one was missing.

***

He had to report Lewellyn as soon as possible. Instead of trying to leave the house, Shavonne brought a boning knife (*Boning knife, which is effective when applied with a knife mainly used in butcher shops or when meat on bones is cut) from the kitchen. It was as small as a palm, but it was perfect for self-defense because, for example, it was sharp enough to easily hurt a person’s flesh. As soon as he hurried out of the house, he saw someone. It was Lewellyn.

Shavonne felt his body stiff. The only thing that didn’t was his head. Questions poured out like heavy snow.

Why is Lewellyn here? The only thing we promised was eating dinner together, but we just finished. Do you have any other plans?

Or are you ‘looking’ for something?

“Where are you going?”

It was Lewellyn who opened his mouth first. He couldn’t answer “to report you,”so he had to make up a story that would not be suspicious even if he went out of his house out of the blue at 9 p.m.

Fortunately, Shavonne was a writer (as a ghostwriter is also a “writer”) and had the talent to make up plausible stories quickly.

“I’m going to go to the maintenance office. The water keeps leaking,” added Shavonne. “If I just leave it alone, the house will be full of water or the walls and floors will rot.”

And unfortunately, Shavonnee was a writer who wasn’t good at keeping up and had the problem of making a mess of his plausible story.

“I guess the maintenance guys aren’t listening to you.” Lewellyn smiled. It’s true that maintenance people don’t listen to him, but why would he say it? Shavonne blinked as he didn’t understand Lewellyn’s intentions. It was the next moment that his question was resolved. “If you have to take a knife to tell them the water’s leaking.”

I forgot. The boning knife I was holding.

His lips were wide open. His mind went blank. He couldn’t think of anything. It didn’t even occur to him how Lewellyn would accept knives, lies, and sudden outings. It was at that moment that cold water poured into his head, which made him go blank. The moment Lewellyn held Shavonne’s hand with the boning knife, Shavonne flinched as if he had woken up in a nightmare.

“Like this.”

Lewellyn whispered in his ear. When he heard his breath and voice, he felt goosebumps on his ears, nape, and back. Lewellyn corrected Shavonne’s grip.

Lewellyn’s hand, which grabbed the handle so that the knife wouldn’t slip, coached him to put his thumb on the guard so that it wouldn’t fall out of his hands. Lewellyn was sweet to him, so he couldn’t imagine how he was the same person who had a body in his house, especially in his bedroom.

“If you hold it like that, you’ll cut yourself.” Lewellyn said while looking at Shavonne’s hand. As if to start the conversation, or as he had his neck clogged, Lewellyn took a moment off and carried on with his words. “If you cut youself… it will hurt a lot for a long time.”

Who doesn’t know that? Shavonne glared at Lewellyn. Whether he didn’t know the meaning of his gaze or pretended not to know, Lewellyn clapped his hands loudly as if he had come up with something.

“Oh, if you don’t take your umbrella now, you’ll be a snowman when you come back, or just lie down in the corner of the Royal Hospital’s mortuary,” he added with a bright smile. “Have a safe trip.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be home. Unlike Shavonne, I don’t have anyone to visit while holding a knife at 9 p.m.”

Lewellyn was coming up with the wrong answer to the point that it was hard to notice whether he misunderstood or pretended to have misunderstood. Shavonne felt a prickling sensation in his throat as if he had a thorn stuck. He collected dry saliva and swallowed it and asked a clear question.

“What I’m asking is what you’re here for.”

Lewellyn didn’t answer. He stared at Shavonne with his yellow eyes. Shavonne felt the nervousness creeping back and forth. It was Lewelyn who said all the words that had been said until now, but since Lewelyn kept his mouth shut without notice, it wasn’t unusual for Shavonne to be swept away by anxiety.

“I forgot something.”

What did you forget?

He suddenly thought of the candles. The cold wax of the candle he had stuck in the pocket of his coat, still seemed to be hovering around his grasp.

“What did you forget?” He knew he had to ask, but he couldn’t move his lips. If he asked and heard an answer he couldn’t digest, then… Shavonne grabbed the boning knife harder. His hand was wet because of his cold sweat.

The next moment, Lewellyn put something in front of Shavonne’s eyes. It was…

“Here you are.”

It was money. One rona bill.

“For the omelet.”

… Omelet? Shavonne blinked because he didn’t understand the situation. He alternately looked at the one-rona bill and at Lewellyn. As a result, Lewellyn continued to explain without caring.

“Fifty selronas per egg, 30 selronas for the cheese. The other 20 selronas is the fee.”

Lewellyn smiled.

“How is it? Isn’t it accurate?”

Don’t forget to give me one rona. It’s 50 selronas per egg and 30 selronas for the cheese.The remaining 20 celronas is the commission. A total of one rona, right?

Shavonne thought he would never eat an omelet again.

***

About an hour after that.

The East Bunch Police Department was so rowdy that no one noticed that someone new had entered the police station. A man was seen making a disturbance and he heard glass breaking, furniture flipping, shouting and screaming.

Shavonne couldn’t take his eyes off him. A large cut that seemed to be coming down from the cheekbones to the chin, covering half of the face. It looked even more ugly because it didn’t heal even though it was a wound that was made the last few days.

Not only the face but also the body was a sight to behold. Everywhere he wasn’t covered in clothes, he was covered in bruises. His neck was black, and when Shavonne looked closely, the blood had dried up and turned black.

The absolute majority of police officers were trying to calm the man down, but with some exceptions. Some police officers didn’t do anything and some officers tried to leave the police station as if they didn’t want to get caught up in the hassle. Shavonne caught one of them and asked.

“What’s going on?”

“It happens all the time,” the police officer said, trying to pull himself out. Shavonne was somehow caught up in a sense of unease. “So what’s exactly going on?” The policeman raised his shoulder and got off. The story told by the police officer was as follows.

There was an unexplained fire that swallowed three warehouses on East Bunch’s Rule Street, and the incident began when a man saw and reported his neighbor, shouting that he did it.

It wasn’t until last night, three days after the report was filed, that the police visited the neighborhood,

“Did you set fire on Rule Street?”

Asked lukewarmly, the neighbor answered.

“No.”

The police nodded,

“I see.”

The neighbor asked.

“Who would say such a thing?”

The police man shrugged,

“The man upstairs.”

The neighbor went upstairs with a knife as soon as the police left. Then I kicked him, slapped him, beat him up… He even slashed his face with the knife.

Shavonne was jaw-dropping. “No, how…” Shavonne couldn’t say a word. He couldn’t understand how he could have told him that and didn’t protect the reporter. The police officer, however, only answered nonchalantly with a look on his face that he knew what Shavonne wanted to say.

“Well, you can’t do anything about it. It’s not your responsibility.”

To conclude, Shavonne failed to declare Lewellyn. This was because he learned that the reporter wasn’t protected, whether from the police or from the citizens. He couldn’t help it. Like most people in the world, Shavonne was a person whose survival instinct was ahead of his law-abiding spirit.

What should I do? He thought about it but couldn’t come to a conclusion.

It snowed silently all night. Shavonne started to have nightmares, but he couldn’t remember them.

Let’s go back.

That was Shavonne’s conclusion after a full day of consideration. It was morning. When Shavonne looked at the money he had, it was less than 15 ronas. He barely had money for the rent, let alone moving out. The problem was that rent wasn’t the only thing a person had to spend for living. Shit. Shavonne did a face palm. His face was sunken as if he hadn’t slept for at least a month.

He couldn’t help it anymore. Shavonne walked in front of the trash can. As he turned over the trash can, piles of trash poured down. Shavonne searched the floor.

It should be here…

A cold and sharp thing touched his hand. The key. 

As I expected, here it is.

He tried to pull it off, but it wasn’t as easy as he thought because the key and the bottom of the trash were sticky. Shavonne was able to grab the key only after putting so much effort that it even made him fall off.

The place he stopped by after the trash can was the bed. Exactly, under the bed. He tried to put his body in, but acrid dust hit his eyes, the smell of musty rat poop hit his nose, and the sound of bugs pierced his ears, so Shavonne decided to move the bed.

The bed didn’t move easily. Not only because of its weight, but because it had been stuck there for as long as eight years. When he moved the bed, he saw the sacrament dust, rat poop, dead bugs, and the household safe.

A safe. When Shavonne got a job as a ghostwriter, it was bought by Dr. Fawks as a souvenir, and at first, the glossy exterior was very shabby. What if it doesn’t open because it’s old? Shavonne became nervous for no reason.

Fortunately, the safe was fine. What bothered him was that he felt stiff when he put the key in and turned it, but it wasn’t that big of a deal. The safe had an envelope that read “Use in an Emergency”. When he grabbed it, there were two ronas and twelve seronas inside.

He rubbed his eyes and checked again, but he lifted it upside down and shook it out, the result didn’t change. 2 Ronas. 12 seronas. That was it. Shavonne felt an urge to smash the safe. His past self could have shared a little bit more.

Whether Shavonne wanted it or not, there was only one person Shavonne could lean on. That’s…

“Do you have any extra money?”

When Shavonne asked a sudden question, Dr. Fawks nonchalantly refused as if he were familiar with such a request.

“I don’t have any extra money to lend you.”

“Not a single penny?”

He asked back with a determination to catch at straw. He didn’t expect Dr. Fawks’ position to change, of course, but he couldn’t stand still. Dr. Fawkes replied, still with a calm face.

“Not even a penny.”

Damn. Shavonne dropped his head. Even so, Dr. Fawkes drank tea. He still did an evaluation while drinking tea and having a long talk.

“It’s too dirty to say, “It tastes great, but the aroma is cheap”. They must have either olfactory or antisocial personality disorder, otherwise you’re not going to sell it as a store menu, right?”

“I don’t know.” It didn’t matter whether the tea tasted like nectar or the dessert like ambrosia. What was important was reality. Shavonne won’t be able to earn a penny from Dr. Fawks, won’t be able to leave Ira Street, and must live as the neighbor of a murderer.

If it hadn’t been an open cafe, or if Dr. Fawks hadn’t been sitting across the table, Shavonne would have buried his face in his hands like a child. “I don’t know, what’s up with that reaction?” Dr. Fawks raised his eyebrows. “Are you mad?”

“… I was just asking you to hesitate, but I was disappointed that you refused without even thinking about it.”

“A favor is powerless. If you need something, don’t ask me to persuade myself. If you think it’s worth it, threat me.”

“Is that how everybody in business thinks, or is it just you?”

“Every adult resident of Bunch says so, except you.”

Dr. Fawkes hasn’t changed a bit. Shavonne frowned, but Dr. Fawks kept talking, so he missed the right time to get angry.

“Why do you need money?”

“That’s…”

How should I explain it?

While Shavonne couldn’t answer while rolling his head, Dr. Fawks poured out a mountain of questions.

“Rent?”

“No.”

“Living expenses? “

“No.”

“A man?”

“…?”

“Oh my God, Shevon, when you sleep with someone you don’t know, I warned you to check whether the person has a STD or not. Tell me. Is it gonorrhoea or syphilis?”

Shavonne frowned. He was in no condition to answer Dr. Fawks’ joke.

“Tomorrow, no, even today, I have to move out right now. The person next door…”

Is a ‘murderer’

Shavonne shut up. It was an open space. All the guests seemed busy drinking tea or chatting with their friends, and the waiters also seemed busy cleaning up, but anyway, they were in trouble if a single person overheard what Shavonne was saying. In the end, what Shavonne said was as follows.

“Is a bad guy.”

“Oh my God, are there only one or two bad people on Ira Street?”

Dr. Fawks shrugged as if it were nothing. Shavonne was almost in tears.

“He’s a thug! I’m sure you wouldn’t bear it when you hear what kind of person he is.”

“You know, No. 403, your upstairs neighbor, Isadora, was sentenced to prison for armed robbery, and the Humphreys downstairs served time in prison for smuggling, tomb theft and forging bills. By the way, do you know the head janitor? He set fire twice and was cut off two toes, either last year or two year ago, and they’re committing the same crime in a way that the police won’t track him down.”

“… How do you know such things?” It was true that Mrs. Isadora and Mrs. Humphrey lived upstairs and downstairs, respectively. He didn’t know if it was true or not, but Shavonne, who had a long face, hurriedly corrected the question. “If what you said is true, shouldn’t you report it?”

“Shavonne.”

Dr. Fawks called Shavonne whispering. Only then did Shavonne stop beating around the bush.

“People don’t have to be righteous.”

“…”

“There is no need for a person to be righteous even at their own risk.”

“But…”

“Your life can be threatened, Shavonne.”

“How long will you be like that?” Dr. Fawks added. His voice seemed to be friendly as if he were trying to appease and soothe a child who didn’t listen. “Everyone is bad.”

Dr. Fawks extended Shavonne’s hand and gave him a teaspoon. When Shavonne didn’t hold the teaspoon, he let Shavonne fold his fingers. Warmth remained within the reach of Dr. Fawks. It was a warm feeling that felt strange.

“The only difference is whether they are bad to you or not.”

Lewellyn’s hand came to his mind. That hand was cold enough to cool down his spine as soon as he touched it.

Can a person with such a hand not be a bad person?

Shavonne’s situation on his way home wasn’t good. He had three ronas in his pocket when leaving his apartment, but he returned with only 30 seronas. Dr. Fawks and Shavonne ended up paying for the tea and dessert they ordered.

The thing is…

-No matter how heinous a criminal is, it doesn’t matter if you or the people around you are not targeted. Pretend you don’t know anything. It’ll be good for you.

That was what Dr. Fawks said at the cafe. Shavonne didn’t answer anything. Dr. Fawks, looking at Shavonne, sighed deeply.

-Alright. If you still want to live like that, so be it.

Dr. Fawkes stood up. Shavonne, who didn’t let go of his expectation to take money from Dr. Fawks, asked with his eyes wide open.

-Are you leaving? Already?

-I’m leaving. Already.

Dr. Fawks added.

-You pay for it.

It was Dr Fawks, not Shavonne, who had tea and dessert. Because Shavonne was trying to borrow money from others for the first time in his life, he was nervous and, of course, never had a bite of the tea or the dessert. Shavonne tried to refute it, but Dr. Fawks, who repeated his words, said first.

-You do it.

Then he added with a brazen face.

– Didn’t you say you wanted to live taking a risk?

Shavonne didn’t know if he was dealing with a grumpy kid or a famous doctor with virtues and skills. Shavonne crumpled his face.

-You’re really… childish.

Dr. Fawkes didn’t seem to care.

-I’m childish. You’re the only one who can make me so childish.

Eventually, Shavonne returned to his apartment in Ira. It was before midnight. All he could see was darkness and countless snowflakes that wouldn’t have been seen without the lights.

The apartment building was as cold as the streets. His face was numb as if it had been cut with a knife, and every time he breathed, a white breath poured out. Footsteps across the apartment lobby, up the stairs, and through the hallway resonated loudly.

And then, Shavonne faced Lewellyn, who was crouching between doors 302 and 303.

He wanted to pass by pretending not to know him, but he couldn’t because they had already made eye contact. Lewellyn, who found Shavonne, jumped up.

“Mr. Shavonne!” He greeted Shavonne. In other words, he blocked Shavonne’s front, rather than “being face to face”.

Silence remained. To break down that awkward atmosphere, Shavonne had to ask something, but I couldn’t think what. In the end, Shavonne…

“Did you wait for me?”

He tried to stretch his face but he couldn’t as his face was stiff.

Lewellyn then replied with the welcoming face remaining the same.

“Yes!”

Everyone is bad.

The only difference is whether they are bad to you or not.

The voice of Dr. Fawks passed through his ears.

You didn’t wait here to kill me, did you…? Shavonne managed to shake off the ominous thought of covering his head.

He asked in a dry and hazy voice. “Why?”

“Why do you think?”

He didn’t think Lewellyn would say, ‘I’m going to kill you,’ but it was an unexpected reaction anyway.

Shavonne ignored his question. This was because if he answered, the conversation would continue. It wasn’t good to have a long conversation with a murderer.

“If you don’t have any business with me, I’ll go first.”

But Lewellyn seemed unwilling to let Shavonne comfortably enter Room 303.

“Are you uncomfortable because I waited for you?”

Shavonne stopped at the question that Lewellyn suddenly asked. The hand trying to catch and turn the door handle of No. 303 stopped too. Shavonne turned around and Lewellyn was looking at him with his yellow eyes that still didn’t seem human.

Uncomfortable? Was there anyone who wouldn’t feel uncomfortable when a ‘bad guy’ is waiting in front of the house like a debtor? Shavonne swallowed the words in his mouth with saliva and answered.

“Yes.”

His answer felt colder at first glance because his voice was low, but Lewellyn had still a bright smile on his face.

“Great. That’s why I waited.”

“…”

Shavonne was at a loss for words. Having said that, Lewellyn added with a smile.

“It’s better to be uncomfortable than to be nothing.”

He was still speechless… but it didn’t end there.

“It’s cold. You need to go in.”

And then he acted out of character,

“Ah, right, I had something to tell you, but I almost forgot again.”

And then he changed his mind and listened to Shavonne. Don’t tell me ‘I have something to tell’… Shavonne’s complexion turned pale. The cold texture of the candle came back to his grasp.

Lewellyn opened his mouth. He was smiling.

“When would be good for the next dinner?”

It was the dinner that he promised.

Would you like to have dinner with me next time? If you don’t agree, I won’t let you leave.

Shavonne had no choice but to get caught up in what Lewelyn said with a playful smile like a villain.

It seems that he didn’t notice that a candle was missing. That’s right. There were dozens of candles, there’s no way he can remember them all. Shavonne breathed in relief and answered. No, he was going to answer. But Shavonne

“That’s…”

Lewellyn talked first.

“Are you busy?”

He couldn’t say otherwise.

“Yes. Work is work…”

“Is it hard? “

“For sure.”

That wasn’t a lie though. Ghostwriters, and nameless ghostwriters, were treated poorly by the publishers, big or small ones.

“Will it be less difficult if I help you?”

“Thank you very much, but this is a task that no one can help.”

“Why don’t I clean up while Mr. Shavonne works?”

“…clean up?”

Shavonne asked back. He thought he must have misheard him, but the next moment Lewellyn told Shavonne that he didn’t have.

“Yes. Clean up. Do the laundry, and so on.”

“Of course I know what cleaning means, but…”

“Mr. Shavonne”. It was still a kind voice and still a smiling face, but his words were not. It was far from pleasant and fresh laughter. “Why do you keep saying ‘but’?”

One step, Lewellyn approached him.

“Why do you keep rejecting me?”

Two steps, Lewellyn approached him.

“Why do you keep treating me like a child?”

Three steps, Lewellyn approached him.

He was too close. They could see how they were reflected in each other’s eyes, feel each other’s cold breath and see what each other’s eyelashes looked like. Lewellyn’s eyes were somehow creepy.

“Are you making excuses because you don’t want to be with me?”

If he answered right away, he didn’t know if he would end up like the corpse rotting in Lewellyn’s house. Shavonne squeezed out an answer.

“No.”

A reaction happened immediately. “Me too.” Lewellyn rejoiced. “If you had rejected me, I’d have stopped inviting you, but you didn’t, so I’ll keep inviting you.”

Again. I got involved again.

Fortunately, Shavonne wasn’t very helpless, even though he was involved. Shavonne also had its own countermeasures.

“Let’s go to a restaurant this time.”

It was the suggestion that Shavonne gave.

He couldn’t eat at Lewellyn’s house. It would be a lie to say that it wasn’t as uncomfortable as the house where the body was, but there was a more important reason. If he went to his “may-be-a-killer” neighbour’s house, Shavonne was more likely to be killed.

Shavonne was fearing that Lewellyn would refuse going to a restaurant because it was expensive.

“Come empty-handed. It’s on me.”

Lewellyn blinked.

“Mr. Shavonne?”

“Yes.”

“It’s on you, Shavonne.”

Whether it was an insult or a worry… Shavonne said with a frown.

“I have enough money to buy us dinner.”

With an incredulous look on his face, Lewellyn (thankfully) didn’t say anything anymore.

So the meal was set for three days later. And throughout those three days, Shavonnee had to ask if there was a cheap restaurant to eat for less than 3 ronas per person.