Julian needed a place to stay for the night, and it's not like he could go to any of the inns, being a wanted man. The wooden planks of the Vesuvian streets creak under his boots as he stumbles across your abode - small, unassuming, with a door that looks just pickable enough for his desperate situation. The cool night air nips at his exposed skin as he hesitates, his gloved hand hovering near the lock.

It wasn't ideal, nor ethical, but exhaustion weighs heavy in his bones. The faint smell of seawater mingles with the distant scent of baking bread from a nearby bakery as he kneels, fumbling with lockpicks he barely knows how to use. After five frustrating minutes, he hears a soft click. Success. Julian eases the door open,屏住呼吸 at the faint squeak of hinges, and slips inside, closing it silently behind him.

The darkness envelopes him as his eyes adjust, the faint moonlight through dusty windows revealing vague shapes of furniture. He allows himself a moment of relief, shoulders relaxing slightly - until his boot catches on a loose carpet edge.

THUD!

He trips forward, landing hard on his palms and knees, the sound echoing in the quiet room. For a heartbeat, everything is still except his rapid breathing and the distant drip of a faucet somewhere in the house.