Chapter 3: Could Haze be an Esper? (Richard's POV)

As Haze confirmed that she was indeed Miss Haze, I felt a wave of relief washing over me. I couldn't contain my excitement and began babbling, "Oh, that's great! I can't believe you actually let me live here. It will really help with my writing. I'm writing about celebrities and wealthy people's lives..."

But before I could finish my sentence, Haze interrupted me, her voice filled with surprise. "Wait, what did you just say?"

A sense of panic started to creep in, and I repeated my question, desperately seeking clarification. "You are Miss Haze, right? The one who contacted me about my newspaper ad?"

As soon as I mentioned the newspaper ad, it seemed to click in Haze's mind. She stood there, lost in thought for a moment, causing my worry to escalate. To get her attention, I cleared my throat, making my presence known.

She swiftly invited me into her apartment, stating that we needed to have a long talk. At that moment, a mix of relief, anxiety, and uncertainty washed over me. Stepping inside her apartment, I couldn't help but be taken aback by its size. It was grand, especially for a woman living alone. The living room was spacious, adorned with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view. The kitchen was equally impressive - vast and impeccably clean. I couldn't help but wonder how she managed to maintain such cleanliness in such a large space.

I settled down on the sofa in the living room while Miss Haze went to the kitchen. As I looked around the apartment, everything appeared clean and minimalistic. It seemed like every piece of furniture and accessory had its designated place, untouched and undisturbed. Comparing it to my own messy apartment, this place was a stark contrast. At least my place wasn't so cluttered that there were garbage bags strewn about.

Miss Haze returned from the kitchen, carrying two bottles of water. Even her choice of beverages seemed to align with her minimalist lifestyle, I thought to myself. She handed me a bottle of water and settled down in the armchair next to the sofa, remaining silent.

As a writer, I appreciated the quiet while working, but this silence felt uncomfortable. If it continued for much longer, I could feel an ulcer forming in my stomach from all the nervousness. Unable to handle the stress, I blurted out, "So?"

Just as Miss Haze was about to start speaking, I interrupted with my concerns, "Seems like I'm not welcome here. Maybe I got the wrong Miss Haze or something." She looked at me questioningly, and I could swear I saw a small smile on her face. She then explained, " It’s not like that, Mr. Writer. I mean, you haven’t introduced yourself yet. Please try to understand. I wasn’t planning to get a roommate until this morning, but it seems like I have no choice but to invite you into my apartment. You can live in the spare bedroom on the left down the hallway. I never use it, so it’s even better for the room, I think…"

Upon realizing my rudeness and neglecting to properly introduce myself, I felt foolish. Despite my blunders, Miss Haze had generously offered me a place to stay, even without knowing my name. Expressing my gratitude, I said, " Thank you. I really thought you were going to throw me out after I finished my bottle of water." I felt a sense of relief wash over me, but I couldn't help but wonder why Miss Haze didn't resist the idea of living with a stranger. So, I mustered the courage to ask her, " But why did you let me live here? It seems like until now, you weren’t aware of this, but you're accepting it really well.”

As I finished speaking, I noticed a chilling smile forming on Miss Haze's face, a sight I hadn't anticipated. It was unsettling to realize that she had something sinister in mind. She replied, " Yeah, you can say that. I’m accepting this because I know who is behind this, and he will pay for this." Her words took me aback, suggesting that the person I had spoken to on the phone wasn't Miss Haze after all.

She continued, reassuring me, "It’s nothing that you should worry about. It’s just between me and my friend. We sometimes challenge each other. Anyway, let’s introduce ourselves properly. You can call me Haze. Everyone does that. I usually work from home, so I need a quiet environment. I reckon you must need an office table for your writing, right? Since there is only one office room, and all my work stuff is there, we have to settle you down here in the living room. There is one small corner where you can actually put a desk, and we can reform a little. There are two bathrooms, so you can use one on your side of the room. The house cleaner comes three times a week. If there is something you don’t understand or you have a question, you can ask, but never interrupt me during my work. That’s all for now."

Her instructions were clear, and I listened attentively. I acknowledged her consideration and professionalism, realizing that living with her might not be as bad as I initially thought.

After apologizing for my earlier oversight, I introduced myself properly as Richard, a writer who had come to live with Miss Haze due to a call from her friend who was introduced as Miss Haze. I expressed my gratitude for her hospitality and admitted that I hadn't expected such a welcoming reception. I explained that I had only been able to enter the apartment because of the code her friend had provided.

When I showed her the code, Miss Haze muttered something under her breath before abruptly standing up and suggesting she show me my room. She mentioned that she wasn't expecting someone, so the room might appear a bit plain. She led me to a spacious room across the hallway, complete with a bed, walk-in closet, small desk, and armchair. The minimalist interior of the room impressed me, and I promptly unpacked my suitcase in the large walk-in closet.

Feeling hungry, I ventured into the kitchen to prepare a meal for myself and Miss Haze. However, to my surprise, the fridge was nearly empty, containing only some broccoli, milk, and bottles of water. I decided to make broccoli soup for brunch and found an apron in one of the drawers as I searched for a pot. Cooking in the expansive kitchen felt pleasant, and just as the soup was nearing completion, I heard someone clearing their throat. Assuming it was Miss Haze, I turned around and said, "I hope you don't mind, Haze. I noticed there was some broccoli in the fridge, and I thought you hadn't had breakfast yet. It's just some broccoli soup."

To my astonishment, she replied, "I didn't know there was anything in the fridge. I've been very busy lately and forgot to buy groceries." She then suggested that I simply call her Haze, as we appeared to be around the same age. Impressed by her friendly demeanor, I accepted her offer and said, "Okay, Haze. Have a seat. It's ready."

As she tasted the soup, she complimented, "It's delicious." I felt relieved and casually responded, "It's nothing. I cook every day. It's much cheaper this way." Once she finished her soup, she asked if I would like to share what was going on in my life, considering the unique situation we found ourselves in. She observed that it seemed like I was dealing with some challenges.

After hearing that, I seriously thought to myself. “Do I have a talent for surrounding myself with people who read minds? Or are all people except me an Esper?”