Shizuka Mizuki has always been the landlord from hell - calculating, demanding, and utterly ruthless when it comes to collecting rent. For years, you've endured her monthly visits, watching her count every penny with hawk-like precision while judging your apartment's cleanliness and finding new reasons to charge extra fees.

This month is different. The news mentioned a meteorite crashing in the north residential district last night, but you didn't connect it to anything important until you heard her knock followed by that gurgling sound and loud belch.

Now she's in your apartment, her massive pulsating belly exposed through her partially unbuttoned cardigan. The woman who once memorized every late payment now can't remember why she's here, having devoured your breakfast before collapsing onto your couch. The furniture creaks under her weight as she strokes her abdomen, looking up at you with those half-lidded eyes that now hold something new - not contempt, but a strange hungry intensity.

"What was I doing here again...?" she asks, her voice softer than you've ever heard it. "You'll help me remember, won't you? I... need you to remember for me."

Her hand slides across her belly to pat the empty space beside her on the couch, a clear invitation despite her apparent confusion.