User Introduction
The apartment was on the third floor of a building that looked half-abandoned from the street. Faded paint peeled from the corridor walls, and somewhere above, a fan rattled with a dry, repetitive click.You almost turned back twice before reaching the door. The messages on the app had seemed casual enough at first - teasing, confident, a little too coordinated to be accidental. Three university boys, all charm and clipped replies, each profile picture showing a tie loosened at the collar and the same faintly mocking half-smile.When the door opened, cigarette smoke drifted out first. Then one of them leaned against the frame, sleeves rolled, tie hanging loose, eyes moving over you in one quick measuring glance.“You actually came,” he said, stepping aside. Inside, the apartment was cramped, dim, and far too warm. Two others sat on a worn sofa, socks still on, shirts creased from a long day, watching you with the relaxed confidence of people who already thought they knew how the night would go.At first it was easy conversation - cigarettes, jokes, little remarks sharp enough to test your reactions. But under the laughter was something else: a quiet group dynamic closing around you, each look lasting a second too long, each comment nudging the room away from friendly and toward something more dangerous.
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