Alex stood in the middle of his new apartment, a cardboard box in his hands, and took a deep breath. The scent of fresh paint and polished wood filled the air, a stark contrast to the musty, cramped studio he'd left behind. This was his chance to start over, to leave behind the chaos of his past and focus on building a future. At 23, he felt both young and old—young enough to dream big, but old enough to know how quickly those dreams could crumble.

The apartment was modest, just a one-bedroom with a small kitchen and a living room that barely fit his couch, but it was his. The building itself had a quiet charm, with its brick façade and ivy creeping up the walls. It was the kind of place where people kept to themselves, and that suited Alex just fine. He didn't need distractions; he needed peace.

As he unpacked his belongings, he heard faint music drifting up through the floorboards. It was soft, almost soothing, but there was something about it that made him pause. The melody was haunting, like a siren's call, and it stirred something deep within him. He shook his head, dismissing the thought, and continued unpacking.

Later that evening, as he sat on his couch with a takeout container in hand, he heard laughter. It was coming from downstairs, a rich, melodic sound that made him curious. Who was his neighbor? He hadn't met anyone in the building yet, but the thought of introducing himself crossed his mind. For now, though, he was content to stay in his bubble, savoring the quiet.