Chapter Text
Milk stares at her phone, the screen glowing with yet another rejection. "Sorry, unit’s already taken." That’s the fourth one today, and it’s barely noon. She lets out a dramatic sigh and flops onto her bed, which squeaks in protest.
Her current apartment isn’t terrible—it’s just ridiculously expensive. The kind of place where the walls are so thin you can hear your neighbor sneeze, but the rent feels like it’s covering a luxury penthouse.
“This can’t be my life,” she mutters, scrolling through a long list of listings that have either been marked ‘unavailable’ or are located in parts of the city she’s pretty sure don’t even exist.
"What even is a 'semi-urban-rustic vibe' anyway?"
Classes are starting in less than a week, and she still has nowhere to live. She pictures herself, dragging her suitcase down the university hallways, looking like a lost puppy. Maybe she could just move into the library. They have Wi-Fi, right? And vending machines? Surely, that’s all she needs to survive the semester.
Her phone rings, jolting her back to reality. It’s her mom. Milk braces herself.
“Sweetheart, any luck with the apartments?” her mom asks in that too-calm tone that means she’s really, really hoping for good news.
“Still looking!” Milk chirps, putting on her best optimistic voice. "You know how it is, just waiting for the perfect match."
Milk can almost hear her mom frown through the phone.
"Well, don’t wait too long. We can't keep paying for your current place. It's... too much."
"I know, Mom. I know." She forces herself to smile, hoping it’ll somehow make her sound more convincing.
After hanging up, she groans dramatically again, rolling off the bed onto the floor in one exaggerated motion. "I’ll just live here. On the floor. Rent-free."
As she lies there, staring at the ceiling, Milk’s mind drifts to a wild idea. Maybe she could start a business. 'Milk’s Emergency Dorm Squatting Service: No Place, No Problem!' Her slogan could be, ‘If I can’t find a place, neither can you!’
She pulls herself up, grabs her laptop, and continues her search. The clock ticks. Her patience runs thinner than the walls.
As Milk scrolls through yet another list of overpriced apartments, a thought crosses her mind: If only my roommate hadn’t left.
They used to split the rent, which made this place sort of manageable. But her roommate, Claire, graduated last semester and moved out of the city, leaving Milk to face the brutal reality of full rent on her own.
Milk sighs, remembering how they used to complain about the cost together while eating instant noodles in the kitchen. Now, she’s just alone in the too-big, too-expensive space.
Claire got her diploma and a decent job, while Milk is stuck trying to figure out how to pay for a place that feels emptier every day.
"If she was still here, maybe I wouldn’t be in this mess," Milk mutters, shaking her head. But no, Claire is off living her adult life, and Milk is left scrolling through one depressing listing after another.
Suddenly, as Milk scrolls through the listings with half-closed eyes, something catches her attention. A potential place—finally! The rent is less expensive, but there’s a catch: it’s slightly farther from her university than she’d like.
She frowns, weighing her options. But with the school year creeping up and her bank account looking like a sad joke, she knows she doesn’t have much of a choice.
Without overthinking, she sends a quick message to the landlord, hoping for some kind of miracle. To her surprise, they reply almost immediately. They agree to let her view the place before she makes a decision.
"Yes!" Milk jumps off the bed, suddenly filled with a surge of hope.
It might not be perfect, but at least it’s something. Without wasting a second, she grabs her bag and heads out, determined to check out this potential new home. She just hopes it’s not some kind of disaster.
When Milk finally arrives at the address, she stops in her tracks. Her jaw practically hits the floor. The apartment is nothing more than an abandoned, open lot with weeds growing as tall as her knees. There’s no building, no door, not even a mailbox—just a sad, empty space that looks like it hasn’t seen life in years.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she mutters, pulling out her phone.
She tries messaging the landlord, but the message won’t send. Confused, she checks their profile. Blocked. Completely blocked. It hits her like a truck—she’s been scammed.
Milk groans, slumping onto the nearest rock that looks somewhat sit-able. She stares at her phone like it’s personally responsible for her misfortune.
“Great. I just spent money on transportation… for this? An empty lot with… scenic weeds?"
Looking up at the gray, gloomy sky, she notices the clouds getting darker by the second. Rain is definitely on its way.
"Of course. The perfect cherry on top." She laughs bitterly, shaking her head. “I’m the poster child for bad luck today.”
Milk glances at the sky one more time, sighing dramatically as she stands up.
“Well, at least I didn’t bring an umbrella. What’s life without a little irony, right?"
On her way home, Milk finally hops onto a bus, just as the first drops of rain start to fall. It’s like the sky has been waiting for the perfect moment to mess with her day. By the time she steps off the bus, it’s pouring—of course. She looks around, hoping to find a waiting shed or some shelter, but there’s nothing in sight.
“Well, that’s just perfect,” she mutters, pulling her jacket over her head in a pathetic attempt to stay dry. She’s soaked within seconds, hair sticking to her face, shoes squelching with every step. “I’m officially a walking puddle.”
Just as she’s about to accept her fate as a drowned rat, her eyes catch something through the curtain of rain. An apartment building. It looks… well, old.
Like the kind of place that might have survived three storms and a mild earthquake, but it’s standing. The paint is peeling, and the windows are a little crooked, but for some reason, Milk feels a weird flicker of hope.
“What if… there’s a place for me there?” she thinks, squinting through the rain. It’s definitely not glamorous, but after the day she’s had, she’s willing to settle for a roof that doesn’t leak too much. With a soggy sigh, she heads towards the building, her fingers crossed that luck might finally be on her side.
When Milk steps inside the building, she’s pleasantly surprised. It’s not the crumbling disaster she imagined from the outside. The hallway is clean, though it smells faintly of mothballs, and the lighting is a little dim, but still—it’s dry, which is more than she can say for herself right now.
As she walks further in, she spots an old woman sitting outside one of the rooms, reading a newspaper. The woman looks like she could cut through steel with just one glare. Milk’s stomach flips, and she suddenly wishes she’d dried off a bit more before walking in. But it’s too late now.
Milk cautiously approaches, trying to muster some confidence.
"Excuse me," she starts, her voice a little shaky, "do you know if there’s a vacant apartment here?"
The old woman doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she lowers her newspaper just enough to peer at Milk over the top of her glasses. And then… she starts inspecting her. From head to toe, like Milk is some soggy exhibit at a museum.
Milk awkwardly tugs at her jacket, realizing she’s still dripping water onto the floor.
Great first impression, she thinks.
The old woman finally speaks, her voice slow and deliberate.
“You want… a place to stay?”
Milk nods, feeling her nervous grin faltering under the woman’s intense gaze. “Yes, please.”
The old woman hums thoughtfully, still eyeing her like she’s deciding whether or not to let Milk stay—or throw her back outside into the rain.
It turns out the old woman is, in fact, the owner of the apartment building. Milk feels a wave of relief wash over her. At least I’m not about to get thrown out into the rain. The woman, after what feels like an eternity of inspecting Milk, finally nods.
“There’s a vacant place,” she says, folding her newspaper.
Milk’s eyes widen. “Really? Can I take a look?”
The old woman squints at her for a moment longer but eventually agrees with a small grunt. Without a word, she stands up and starts walking toward the stairs, clearly expecting Milk to follow. Milk hurries after her, still dripping but much more hopeful now.
They head up to the second floor, the stairs creaking under their feet. Milk glances around as they walk, taking in her surroundings. Despite the building’s age, it’s not bad at all. The hallway is wide, and the floors are surprisingly clean.
She peeks into the open doors of a few apartments, noticing the people living there—one is a guy wearing headphones and playing video games, another a woman cooking something that smells suspiciously delicious.
This place is… kind of charming, she thinks, a little surprised. Sure, it’s old, but it’s got character. And more importantly, it doesn’t look like it’s about to fall apart, which is already better than half the places she’s seen.
Milk nods to herself. “I could definitely live here.”
When they reach the third-to-last room in the hallway, the old woman stops and pulls a set of keys from her dress pocket with the same slow precision she uses for everything. Milk watches, trying not to fidget with excitement as the door clicks open.
"Go ahead, take a look," the woman says, stepping aside to let Milk in.
Milk steps inside, and her eyes immediately widen. Wow, she thinks, genuinely surprised. The room is much nicer than she expected. It’s clean, spacious, and feels oddly cozy despite its simplicity. There’s a separate bedroom, a small but functional kitchen, and—bless the universe—her own bathroom.
No more sharing with random people down the hall!
But what really seals the deal is the small balcony. Milk steps out, imagining herself leaning on the railing, staring off into the night sky, having deep thoughts—or at least pretending to while snacking at midnight.
Perfect for a little midnight senti, she thinks with a grin.
She turns back to the old woman, trying to play it cool despite her excitement.
“It’s... pretty nice.”
The woman just raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by Milk’s attempt to act casual.
"You like it?"
Milk nods eagerly, already picturing herself moving in.
“Yeah, I think I could make this work.”
Before Milk gets too lost in her daydreams of late-night balcony musings, reality hits her like a gentle tap on the shoulder.
"Wait, the rent!" she blurts out, turning back to the old woman.
Please be cheap. Please be cheap, she chants silently in her head, trying not to look too desperate.
The old woman raises an eyebrow, then says the number. Milk’s jaw almost hits the floor. It’s way cheaper than her current overpriced apartment, and given the quality of this place, she’s genuinely shocked. It feels like she’s stumbled upon some hidden gem.
I could even afford extra midnight snacks! she thinks excitedly. Visions of instant noodles and chips during her midnight senti moments flood her mind.
Without a second thought, she grins. “I’ll take it! I can move in, like, tomorrow!”
The old woman just nods, a tiny smile curling at the corner of her lips. But there’s something about the way she’s looking at Milk—like she knows something Milk doesn’t. It’s subtle, but Milk can sense it.
Still, she brushes it off. Who cares, right? She’s found a cheap, clean place with a balcony. What could go wrong?
After Milk returns to her current apartment, still slightly damp from her earlier rain adventure, she flops onto her bed and immediately calls her mom.
“Hey, Mom! Guess what? I found a new place!” she announces, barely able to contain her excitement. "And it's way cheaper! You guys won’t have to cover as much anymore."
Her mom’s voice on the other end sounds relieved. “That’s wonderful, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you for handling it. When are you moving?”
“Probably tomorrow, if I can,” Milk says, stretching out on her bed with a tired but satisfied smile.
After a few more minutes of reassuring her mom that everything’s under control, they hang up, and Milk finally lets out a long sigh of relief.
She stares at the ceiling, feeling the weight of the day lift off her shoulders. Sure, she started the day as a human sponge, got scammed, and walked around like a wet cat, but now things are looking up. Her new place is cheap, cozy, and she’s one step closer to being settled.
Just as she’s about to drift off to sleep, she suddenly remembers the way the old woman had looked at her—like she was hiding some kind of secret.
Milk frowns slightly, staring at the ceiling.
"What was up with that look?" she mumbles to herself. But then she yawns, shrugging it off. "Eh, it’s probably just her face."
With that, she turns over and finally lets herself fall into a well-deserved nap.
The next morning, Milk doesn’t waste a single minute. As soon as she’s up, she’s already shuffling around her apartment, grabbing boxes and packing her things. Of course, this also means she’s frantically trying to figure out what’s actually important to bring.
“Do I really need three different kinds of instant noodles?” she mutters to herself, holding up a packet in one hand and a pile of mismatched socks in the other. The struggle is real, but she eventually manages to shove everything into her bags and boxes, even if they’re on the verge of bursting.
Before heading out, she takes a quick trip down the hallway to say her goodbyes to her neighbors.
“Well, it’s been real, guys. I’m moving to greener pastures... or at least, cheaper ones.” They wave her off, offering good lucks and the occasional “Don’t forget us when you’re rich!”
Milk then heads to her landlord’s office to let them know she’s moving out. The landlord, while slightly surprised by her sudden decision, nods and wishes her luck.
Finally, Milk stands in the hallway, surrounded by all her boxes and bags. It looks like she’s about to embark on a full-on expedition. But despite the heavy load, she’s surprisingly upbeat. Who cares if I’m carrying half my life across town? she thinks. As long as she has a roof over her head, it’s totally worth it.
With that, she hoists one of the boxes onto her shoulder and heads toward her new home, feeling like an over-packed, but determined, adventurer.
When Milk finally steps into her new place, she’s filled with a burst of energy. Without missing a beat, she starts unpacking her boxes like a whirlwind.
“Okay, let’s make this a home,” she declares, throwing her stuff around in what can only be described as organized chaos.
She cleans surfaces, shuffles furniture around until it feels just right, and hangs up a couple of her favorite posters—one featuring a cat in a pizza costume that she absolutely can’t live without.
After an hour of moving things around to her liking, she takes a step back and admires her handiwork.
“Look at this! Home sweet home!” she beams, although her place still has the lingering scent of old paint and mothballs. But it’s hers, and that’s all that matters!
Just as she finishes arranging the last of her belongings, her stomach growls louder than her enthusiasm. “Okay, priority number one: food!” she decides. She grabs her jacket, ready to embark on the epic quest to the nearest convenience store.
With a bounce in her step, Milk heads out, imagining the glorious selection of snacks waiting for her. As she walks, she starts mentally listing what she wants.
“Instant noodles, chips, maybe some ice cream… oh, and definitely something to drink!” She’s practically drooling at the thought.
Feeling like a food conqueror, she strides into the store, ready to stock up on essentials that will keep her energized for more unpacking and decorating.
When Milk returns from the store, arms full of snacks and instant noodles, she quietly walks down the hallway toward her new apartment. Just as she’s about to reach her door, a young woman steps out of a nearby apartment. Milk smiles warmly, eager to make a good first impression.
“Hi! I’m Milk," Milk says, her voice cheerful. "The new one renting the vacant apartment."
The young lady freezes for a second, staring at Milk like she’s just said something shocking. Without a word, the girl quickly slips on her headphones and walks away at lightning speed, avoiding eye contact as if she’s just seen a ghost—or something even worse.
Milk stands there, snacks in hand, blinking in confusion.
“Uh... okay? Nice to meet you, too?” she mutters to herself, watching the girl disappear down the hallway.
She frowns, scratching her head. “What was that all about?”
Milk fishes her keys out of her pocket and is just about to unlock the door when she hears a voice behind her.
“Are you really the one living in that apartment?”
Milk turns around to see a woman in her 40s eyeing her suspiciously. Feeling confused but still trying to be polite, she nods and flashes a friendly smile.
“Uh, yeah, that’s me! Just moved in today.”
The woman shakes her head like Milk’s just made the worst decision of her life.
“You’ll regret it soon enough,” she says ominously, then walks away, leaving Milk standing there with a mix of confusion and nerves.
Milk awkwardly laughs, more out of discomfort than humor.
“Thanks for the warm welcome, I guess?” she mutters under her breath before quickly unlocking her door and slipping inside.
Once she’s safely back in her apartment, she leans against the door and sighs.
“Well, this is going to be interesting,” she says, looking around at her newly arranged space. “I think I just moved into a building full of weirdos.”
Still, she shakes off the strange encounters, deciding that as long as she has her balcony, her snacks, and a roof over her head, she can handle a little weirdness.
It’s already afternoon, and Milk is lounging on her little balcony, enjoying a much-needed rest after the hectic move. Just as she’s about to zone out completely, her phone buzzes—her mom is calling.
“Hi, Mom!” Milk answers cheerfully.
“How’s the new place?” her mother asks, sounding both curious and concerned.
Milk leans back in her chair, smiling.
“It’s fine! A little quirky, but I like it. Got a balcony and everything.” She pauses, then asks, “When are you going to visit me?”
Her mom laughs softly. “Soon, sweetheart. Just settle in first.”
After a bit more chatting, they say their goodbyes, and Milk heads back inside to check her laptop for the upcoming enrollment schedule. She sits on her bed, laptop in hand, scrolling through school emails when—
BANG!
A loud thud echoes from the kitchen, making her jump. Milk freezes for a second, wide-eyed, then slowly turns her head toward the sound. “What the heck was that?”
Her heart pounds as she gets up, cautiously making her way to the kitchen, half-expecting to find something—or someone—waiting there.
When she enters the kitchen, she’s greeted by nothing but the sight of a fallen mug lying on the floor. She stares at it, blinking in confusion.
Did I even put a mug there? she wonders, scratching her head. And how did it fall?
For a second, she feels a bit spooked, but then she shrugs it off.
“Eh, I probably just forgot,” she mutters to herself. After all, she’s been scatterbrained lately, especially with the stress of moving.
She picks up the mug, puts it back on the counter, and heads back to her room, pushing the odd incident to the back of her mind. As soon as she sits down, her phone buzzes. It’s her friend, View, messaging her.
“When are we going to enroll?” View asks.
Milk sighs, glad for the distraction. She quickly types back, “This week, hopefully! I just need to double-check the schedule. How about you?”
View: “Looks like we’re enrolling on the same day! Wanna meet up?”
Milk smiles, quickly typing back.
Milk: “Sure! Let’s suffer together. 😂”
Their chat soon shifts to Milk’s new apartment.
View: “So, how’s the new place? Should I come over and throw you a welcoming party?”
Milk immediately grimaces at the idea.
Milk: “A party?? No need, it’ll be a hassle… and expensive! You know I need to save money.”
But View, being as persistent as ever, insists, “No worries, it’ll be on me! I’ll bring the food and drinks. You just sit back and enjoy.”
Milk sighs, half-smiling at her friend’s enthusiasm.
Of course, she’s not taking no for an answer.
Just as Milk is about to reply, she hears another noise—this time from the balcony. Her fingers freeze over the phone screen, and she slowly looks toward the source of the sound.
“What now?” she whispers to herself, standing up cautiously. She creeps toward the balcony, heart pounding a little faster than she’d like to admit.
When Milk steps onto the balcony to investigate the noise, she spots the culprit: a fluffy black-and-white cat sitting casually on the railing, licking its paw like nothing happened.
Milk sighs in relief, smiling as she steps closer.
“Oh, it’s just a cat! Hey, buddy…”
But as she reaches out to pet it, the cat gives her one glance, then dramatically jumps away from her, as if she just insulted its entire existence.
Milk chuckles, watching the cat leap gracefully onto the balcony floor.
“Well, excuse me for being friendly,” she says, shaking her head.
The cat, clearly not caring, wanders into her apartment like it owns the place, its tail flicking behind it. Milk watches as it roams around, sniffing her boxes and inspecting her furniture.
“I guess you’re not shy, huh? Who do you belong to?” Milk wonders aloud, figuring it must belong to one of her neighbors. She follows the cat inside, amused by how comfortable it seems to be making itself at home.
“Feel free to judge my decorating skills,” she jokes as the cat jumps onto her couch, looking entirely unimpressed with everything.
Milk, still determined, tries once more to pet the cat. Every time she reaches out, though, the cat moves just out of her grasp, like it’s playing some sort of feline version of “hard to get.”
She pouts, feeling a tiny sting of rejection.
“I thought we could be friends,” she mutters under her breath. “I like cats, you know. But clearly, the feeling’s not mutual.”
Still, she shrugs it off. Not all cats are affectionate, she tells herself.
Just as she’s about to leave the cat alone, it suddenly freezes in place and lets out a long, eerie meow, staring intensely at something in the corner of the room. Milk’s heart skips a beat.
“Uh… what are you looking at?” she asks nervously, glancing around.
The cat’s eyes are wide, its tail flicking back and forth as if it’s spotted something Milk can’t see.
Milk gulps, staring at the same empty spot.
“I swear, if you see a ghost and didn’t tell me upfront, we’re going to have problems, cat.”
But, of course, the cat doesn’t answer. It simply gives one last flick of its tail and saunters back to the balcony, leaping gracefully over the railing and disappearing just as mysteriously as it came.
Milk is left standing there, staring at the spot where the cat was fixated moments ago. A sudden shiver runs down her spine, and she rubs her arms as if that will somehow shake off the weird feeling.
“I don’t believe in ghosts... I don’t believe in ghosts,” she mutters, trying to convince herself. But the eerie silence in her apartment isn’t helping. She looks back at the corner of the room, half expecting something to jump out at her.
"Okay, enough of this!" she decides, not about to let her imagination run wild.
Without hesitation, she grabs her phone and blasts the loudest, most chaotic rock music she can find, filling the room with noise. The thundering guitars and crashing drums help drown out her creeping fear.
“Yeah, take that, imaginary ghosts!” she yells over the music, feeling slightly more confident.
She flops down onto her bed, trying to relax, but her eyes still drift toward the corner every now and then, just to make sure.
As the evening falls, Milk decides it’s finally time for a shower after the long, exhausting day of moving in. She grabs her towel, heads to the bathroom, and, like always, plays her favorite playlist to relax. The sound of music fills the small bathroom, and she hums along as the warm water runs over her.
But as she’s humming, she suddenly hears something—another hum, faint but unmistakable. Milk stops, her heart skipping a beat. She looks around, but the bathroom is empty, save for her and the steam from the hot water.
Okay, it’s probably just my imagination, she thinks, trying to brush it off.
She starts singing again, a bit louder this time to shake off the weird feeling. But then, there it is—another hum, perfectly in sync with her voice, like someone else is humming along with her. Milk’s eyes widen, her breath catching in her throat. She freezes mid-song.
“Who... who’s there?” she asks, her voice shaky. There’s a brief silence, then a voice responds from directly behind her, soft but clear.
“I’m here.”
Milk spins around, startled, but in her panic, she bumps into the edge of the sink, her feet slipping on the wet floor. She yelps as she falls backward, arms flailing, but just before her eyes close in fear of hitting the ground, she catches a glimpse of something—someone. A shadowy figure, barely visible through the steam, standing near the bathroom door.
It looks like... a girl.
And then, everything goes black.