Chapter 1

On a weekend afternoon, Caleb Johnson was jolted awake from his nap by a series of loud thumping noises. The sound was not unfamiliar—he heard it nearly every weekend. It was the neighbor across the street practicing boxing.

Caleb sat up, reaching out to pull aside the blackout curtains in his bedroom. The gentle afternoon sunlight slipped through the gap, casting a line of light and shadow across his fingers.

Waking up from a nap always left him with a dry mouth, and on days when the boxing sounds were particularly loud, that dryness seemed even more pronounced.

Caleb crossed his legs and stretched lazily, then slowly turned to open the nightstand drawer and retrieve a monocular telescope. The world through his eyes instantly transformed into a perfect circle, the magnified image revealing the pale yellow exterior of a building.

Caleb's neighborhood was situated on the outskirts of the city. There were no high-rise buildings, only rows of two-story villas. To maintain a uniform and pleasing appearance, all the villas had yellow walls and brown roofs, with even the layouts identical.

As a result, Caleb had a direct view into the bedroom of the house across the street from his own bedroom. Once he adjusted the slightly tilted telescope, the circle of view showed the interior of the opposite bedroom.

Between the two villas was a road, about 26 feet wide. The 12x monocular telescope was sufficient to see every detail of the room across the street.

The neighbor living opposite was a man in his twenties, whose height Caleb assumed to be about 6 feet 0.8 inches. Like Caleb, he lived alone.

But unlike Caleb, he seemed to work in the city. Every day, he left his house half an hour earlier than Caleb did. So, even though they had been neighbors for over half a year, they had never properly met.

To be precise, Caleb had deliberately avoided any encounters with the man. If he happened to see the neighbor leaving at the same time as him, Caleb would sit quietly inside for a couple of minutes, waiting for the sound of the engine to fade before stepping outside.

It wasn't that Caleb was socially anxious—he simply had a voyeuristic streak.

He couldn't control his urge to watch and analyze others.

For instance, when he saw a young person with a limp on the street, he would involuntarily speculate about the reasons behind it. Similarly, if a colleague yawned repeatedly at work, he would subconsciously analyze their nighttime activities on the previous night.

Perhaps this behavior could be attributed to a curious nature, but Caleb knew that using a telescope to spy on his neighbors was going beyond mere curiosity, crossing the line into something more.

He didn't want to be this way, so he had proactively requested a transfer to a quieter, more secluded suburb. Previously, his home had been surrounded by a dense cluster of apartment buildings. Now, the only person across from his house was a young man living alone.

This had greatly reduced Caleb's voyeuristic impulses—until now.

From the neighbor's bedroom came the sound of boxing.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Fists wrapped in white bandages struck the heavy bag with rhythmic force. The muted sound seemed unusually jarring in the otherwise peaceful neighborhood.

Today, as usual, the neighbor was "generous" with his attire, or rather, lack thereof. He was shirtless, showcasing a powerful punch and well-defined chest muscles that extended into his long, muscular arms. The raw energy he exuded was almost electrifying.

Caleb had initially been unaware that his punctual and seemingly ordinary neighbor had such a wild side. He had always found the man across the street aesthetically pleasing—he had chiseled features and an upright posture, and would give off the impression of a societal elite if he wore a suit.

Caleb imagined the man was indeed of the upper class, as he drove an expensive car that ordinary office workers couldn't afford. His coffee table was also cluttered with reports.

In the beginning, Caleb had no other targets for his voyeuristic tendencies, so he focused all his attention on the neighbor.

But soon enough, he began to find it monotonous. Despite the man's striking appearance, he was just another ordinary person. He mechanically commuted every day, which dulled Caleb's interest.

That was until the weekend arrived, when the man emerged shirtless into his yard, smoking and watering the lawn. The morning sun bathed his indifferent face, and his tanned skin looked almost surreal through the mist of water.

Caleb hesitated for a moment. He couldn't shake the feeling that such a sensual side didn't fit with the image of a conventional office worker. When he saw the man boxing again, his initial thoughts were confirmed—this man was clearly more than just a typical office worker.

During his move, Caleb had resolved to part with his beloved high-magnification telescope. But after discovering the intriguing side of his neighbor, he couldn't help but buy another monocular telescope.

Caleb comforted himself by thinking that, compared to before, he was now spying on just one person, which was an improvement.

"Mr. Zephyr, are you home?"

"We need your signature for the new neighborhood management plan. It won't take long."

The voices of two neighborhood workers interrupted the rhythmic thumping of fists against the heavy bag.

Caleb put away his telescope and peered through the curtain. He saw that the two neighborhood workers had arrived at the iron gate of the house across the street.

If Caleb could hear the boxing sounds, the workers downstairs definitely could hear them as well.

Logically, the man should have gone down to greet them, considering he was obviously at home. But Caleb looked up and directly across the road, only to find his neighbor remained unresponsive. He simply stood in the shadow behind his window, sipping water and casually watching the two neighborhood workers from upstairs.

His stance clearly indicated that he was ignoring them and pretending not to be home. It was a clear signal that he didn't want to be disturbed.

"Forget it. I knew he wouldn't care about neighborhood matters."

"Seriously? It's not like it takes long to sign something."

The two neighborhood workers grumbled as they made their way to Caleb's door and rang the doorbell. Unlike with his neighbor, they were uncertain if Caleb was home, so they didn't call out directly.

As he worked in a prison, Caleb had a stricter sense of morality compared to most people. He wasn't naturally patient, but to atone for his voyeuristic behavior, he was willing to show extra patience to those who weren't malevolent.

Thus, he was willing to go downstairs to sign the document.

But now, there was a problem—he didn't want to draw any attention from the man across the street.

The man's gaze was fixed on the two neighborhood workers. If Caleb went outside now, he would surely become the focus of the man's attention, and he had no desire to make his presence known to him.

Hearing no response from Caleb, the two neighborhood workers eventually moved on to the next house.

The sound of boxing didn't pick up again. The man across the street put down his water bottle and removed the white bandages from his hands.

The afternoon sun was high in the sky, though its rays only reached the edges of the window. The line between light and shadow fell perfectly across the man's forearm. As he moved his hands in a circular motion, the light danced across his skin, shifting with every movement.

Caleb picked up his telescope again, increasing the magnification. He could see the fine beads of sweat on his neighbor's arm and the specks of dust floating in the sunlight.

Caleb's already dry throat grew even more parched, and he felt a burning pain with each breath.

He couldn't quite understand why he was unable to control himself. He was willing to interact with neighborhood workers but avoided meeting the man's gaze—his guilt making it impossible for him to look directly into the man's eyes.

Caleb had known for a while that the neighbor's last name was Zephyr, but even that bit of information seemed unnecessary to him. Ideally, the man would remain like a model from a sensual magazine, offering some material for fantasy when Caleb needed a visual escape.

Beyond that, Caleb had no need for any real information about him.

The more real the man became, the deeper Caleb's sense of guilt grew. He knew he wouldn't be able to stop his voyeuristic habits overnight, so the best solution was to avoid any personal interactions with his neighbor entirely.