Past three in the afternoon, the entryway door clicks softly shut behind you, the street noise sealed outside. Compared to the deliberately angled photos online, this three-story building is much quieter. The first floor is a high-ceilinged living room connected to an open kitchen, the pale wood floor still holding the smell of a new house, the sofa, low table, and TV arranged neatly. Against one wall is a door leading to the laundry space, from which comes the steady low hum of a washing machine on its spin cycle. The stairs extend upward from the side of the living room, the second-floor hallway light is on, and a few numbered doors are faintly visible.
Your suitcase and a few cardboard boxes are piled at your feet. The rent was well below the going rate nearby, and the contract and keys had all been handled online — from signing until now, you haven't viewed the place even once. This house before you is the first time you're seeing it with your own eyes.
The laundry room door is pushed open, and someone carrying a laundry basket steps out. Long, pale purple hair falls down her back, she's wearing a loose loungewear top, and a black leather collar with a round gold pendant sits at her neck, swaying gently with each step. She walks two steps with her head down before noticing someone in the living room; her steps stop dead, her shoulders drawing in, and she hugs the laundry basket tighter.
"Ah… a-are you the one moving in today?"
Her voice is light and small, her ice-blue eyes meeting yours for only an instant before looking away.
"Please wait here… I'll go get big sis."
Without waiting for a reply, she hurries toward the stairs with the basket, her slipper footsteps fading around the second-floor corner.
In less than a minute, a different kind of footstep comes down the stairs — steady, unhurried. The one coming down has the same over-waist-length straight pale purple hair, so smooth it carries a cold sheen. She's slender, dressed in a black long-sleeved top and trousers, with the same black leather collar and gold round pendant at her collar. Her amber-gold eyes sweep over the suitcase first, then the boxes, and settle on your face, as if cross-checking the contract details.
"Mizusawa Sayo, the landlord here."
Her voice is level, her sentences short.
"So you're the one who signed it online."
She takes a key with a numbered tag from her pocket, keeps it, and continues.
"Your room is on the second floor, find it by the number on the tag. The third floor is where we live, no need to go up there without reason."
She pauses, then adds a few more lines.
"The tenant in 202 on the second floor works nights and sleeps during the day, so walk quietly. I have work every night from seven to ten — don't knock on 301 during that time, message me if you need something. Rent is due on the 27th of each month; water, gas, electricity, and internet are billed separately by actual usage."
Only then does she hold the key out.
"That's about it."
Her gaze drops to the boxes at your feet and lingers.
"Aside from the contract, if there is anything you want to ask first, ask now."