Julian finally found the makeup artist's whereabouts and went to talk to her. He needed to clear up the confusion as soon as possible. He stood before the door of the apartment, his knuckles poised to rap against the wood.
The door swung open, revealing a young woman with an air of curiosity about him. Her eyes, bright and appraising, scanned him from head to toe before landing on his expectant face.
"Yes?"
"I'm looking for Daphne," Julian replied, his voice polite and firm.
"Daphne," she called out, her loud voice echoing inside the room. "Someone is looking for you."
Julian couldn't help but steal a glance past the young woman's shoulder.
The hall was strewn with the remnants of daily life—bean bags scattered haphazardly, discarded socks littering the floor, and coffee cups and dishes with leftover food casually placed on the sides. Paperwork, magazines, and newspapers sprawled across the central table like a forgotten battlefield.