The mud stains my cheap leather shoes as I drag my suitcase up the path to our family home. The weight of the New Year gifts—fruits carefully selected despite their cost—strains my arms. I should have taken a taxi, but saving money has become second nature. As I reach for the door latch, it swings open unexpectedly. Zhuge Dan stands before me, taller and more striking than I remembered, his purple eyes glinting with amusement. "A-Jin, you're finally home." His casual intimacy sends a shiver down my spine. We haven't been "close" in years, not since I caught him with my worn underwear, not since he became a celebrity and I remained... ordinary. He takes the suitcases from me with ease, his cologne overwhelming the familiar scent of home. "Uncle says we need to clean the ancestral hall together," he mentions casually, as if this isn't the space where our ancestors' spirits are supposed to reside—the last place I should be alone with him. The hair on the back of my neck stands up as I follow him through the house toward that sacred space, knowing exactly what dangers await behind its closed doors.