Chapter 3

His expression surprised me. I turned my head to look behind me, but there was no one there.

I couldn't help but think of a ghost story I'd recently read.

Surely, he wasn't possessed by some malevolent spirit?

My confused expression seemed to be making him more afraid.

Could it be that his overindulgences had twisted his mind and now he had his eyes set on me?

Why else would he stand there staring silently for so long?

Maybe I should run now, I thought, just in case.

Just as we were staring at each other, a snow-white cat appeared, as if from nowhere.

It walked towards us, gracefully.

Upon seeing the cat, Brook knelt down.

I wasn't sure what was going on.

For some reason, I knelt down too.

Brook picked up the cat and started crying.

I didn't know what to say.

I figured he hadn't spoken because his voice was so hoarse from crying.

But when he finally did speak, it made me want to tear up our agreement.

After all this trouble, thinking he was going to throw himself off the roof, he was just upset because his cat had gotten out and he couldn't find it.

He asked me, his voice faint and raspy, "What are you doing here?"

I scratched my head. "I live in this building. We must be neighbors."

Seeing that he was in no danger of doing anything stupid, I decided to leave. It would have been awkward to stay when he was like this.

So, I said my goodbyes and left.

...

My mom's decorators had worked their magic quickly. In a little over a week, they'd managed to soundproof the entire house.

I worked in the gaming department of the animation studio. My main role was writing the dialog and plot for one of our more popular characters.

Now that Brook Sierra was on board, we sent out our first wave of promos for this character.

But the feedback wasn't as positive as we'd hoped.

The biggest story that everyone was talking about was claims that the character represented by my scripts was plagiarized.

I sat in my house, feeling a little dizzy from the redecorating fumes.

I didn't understand how anyone could accuse me of plagiarism.

There was a knock at the door.

I opened it to find Brook standing there, holding his cat.

I figured he'd seen the news already, too.

I invited him in.

As expected, the first words out of his mouth were: "Have you seen the rumors about your scripts?"

"I have. I promise you there's no truth to them. I didn't plagiarize anything."

"I believe you. Have you tried calling the studio to find out what's happening?"

I had tried, but no one was picking up the phones.

It was bad enough that they hadn't called me first, but the fact they weren't even answering my calls ...

I waved my hands, helplessly.

In this industry, being suspected of plagiarism was hardly rare.

But considering how much these rumors were blowing up, the fact that the company hadn't done anything about it yet was unusual.

Brook's cat was looking around my living room, lackadaisically.

Suddenly, it stretched out its legs and struggled free.

Free to roam as it pleased, the cat wandered the floorboards, gracefully.

Brook was still looking at me, a serious look on his face.

I discovered that here, in my own sanctuary, I was the most nervous one present.

"What do you plan to do?"

I wasn't sure how to respond. There was no way for me to prove my innocence. After all, by this stage, nothing anyone could produce was entirely new anyway.

I could be sure that I hadn't copied anyone else's work, but if there happened to be coincidental similarities ...

Well, there wasn't much that I could do about it.

I shook my head, helplessly.

Brook's voice was hoarse. "You're new to this industry, am I right?"

"You are. I've only recently started."

He went on, seemingly not holding out much hope.

"Do you have a record of your edits?"

"Of course."

I fetched my laptop and handed it to him. He opened my scripts and started checking through my editing history.

"Did you send this to anyone else?"

"I sent some of this to a company I interviewed for before."

"They probably used it without your permission. I'll get in touch with PR for you."

I was suddenly filled with admiration for him.

I was so relieved that I didn't even mind that his cat had knocked all of the fragile collectibles from my desk onto the floor.

I looked from the broken pieces lying on the floor to the cat, feigning innocence, among the carnage, and finally to the mortified expression on its owner's face.