"In the sorcerer's sinister grasp, shadows weave and whispers cease, for with every incantation, a soul's essence is drawn, a chilling transaction of power at the cost of light."- The Demon Goddess

~~~

What agony could surpass the ordeal of traversing life as a dispirited, unemployed man?

Within the confines of his surroundings, Viktor found himself trapped within a space so squalid and derelict that it hardly merited the designation of a place to rest.

Now, it was a scene of utter chaos, dominated by a sprawling mound of detritus that emitted a noxious odor, extending as far as the eye could discern.

Similarly beleaguered was the young man who had just stirred from his slumber, his eyes swollen and reddened—not from tears, for in the midst of these wretched living conditions, an array of curious creatures like ants had become his unwelcome cohabitants.

Before Viktor, a disheveled figure who once held the esteemed title of foremost in his field stood amidst a procession of ebony-hued mice, scurrying in succession.

Having only recently retired from his exalted position, he was now a mere ghost of his former self, a man intricately intertwined with the threads of ill fortune.

His gaze swept over the scuttling rodents with an air of apathy, laden with indifference and exhaustion—an embodiment of the disarray that had now woven itself into the fabric of his existence.

On closer inspection, the room, now submerged under layers of refuse, likely harbored several repugnant creatures capable of taking to the air when threatened.

"Ah, you wretched cockroach. Rot in hell!" Viktor's exclamation reverberated through the air, a mixture of frustration and disgust painting his words.

The fervent outburst wasn't without consequences. It managed to pique the curiosity of a stern-faced, middle-aged woman who happened to be passing by.

Her countenance bore the marks of perpetual seriousness, a demeanor only accentuated by the unwavering presence of hair rollers she seemed to wear as a permanent fixture.

With an air of determination, the woman strode purposefully toward Viktor's room, her steps echoing with a resolute intent.

Her knuckles rapped against the door in a forceful rhythm that mirrored her unyielding demeanor.

"Hey there! Young man! I kindly granted you a two-day grace period to settle your overdue room rent. If, by any chance, you've failed to produce the requisite payment at this very moment, brace yourself for an imminent camaraderie with the destitute and the homeless."

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As her voice carried on, each word enunciated with a strict clarity, she struck the door with a cadence that conveyed her stern warning.

Meanwhile, Viktor had sought refuge beneath a haphazard pile of bedding, concealed from the world's judgment and ensnared in the mess that cocooned him.

In this impromptu retreat, he artfully sidestepped the impending obligation of satisfying his overdue rent payment, effectively deferring the responsibility tied to the abode he currently called his own.

"Oh, damn it! Just go away, go away, go away!" Viktor muttered in a fervent whisper, the words tumbling from his lips like a desperate plea.

In these recent days, Viktor found himself trapped in the relentless grip of adversity, struggling to break free from the oppressive shadows that had swallowed his once-thriving life.

His muttered mantra served as a desperate attempt to chase away not only the unwanted intrusions but also the haunting thoughts that seemed to cling to him like a persistent specter.

As time wore on, his battle with his circumstances began to take its toll on his very constitution.

The mere sight of appetizing, nutritious meals turned his stomach, and he found himself unable to partake in the simple pleasures he once enjoyed.

Neglect had wrapped its cold fingers around him, becoming an intimate companion in this desolate chapter of his life.

It clung to him like a second skin, eroding the vibrancy that had once defined his appearance. The lines of exhaustion and sorrow had carved their marks onto his features, a vivid reflection of the turmoil within.

Amid his struggle to maintain even the semblance of normalcy, a bitter realization dawned on him.

"How in the world am I supposed to gather the funds to settle my rent?" he questioned aloud, his voice carrying a poignant blend of exasperation and helplessness.

"My stomach has been aching with emptiness, reduced to subsisting on nothing more than plain water and rice that's now infested with weevils since yesterday." The words lingered in the air, a stark testament to the depths of his current circumstances and the daunting challenges he faced.

An angry, forceful kick from the infuriated landlady crashed into Viktor's room door, the impact causing the aged wood to splinter and crack under the pressure.

With a resounding crash, the hinges finally relinquished their grip, yielding to the unyielding fury of the blow.

The door swung open in a violent gesture, its protest echoing in the room.

"Ugh, darn it. What's that smell?" The woman's voice rang out, a symphony of disbelief and repulsion that reverberated within the confined space.

Her eyes, widened in disbelief, bore witness to the grotesque scene before her, her initial shock contorting into a visage of discomfort as the overpowering, acrid stench assailed her senses.

The malodorous assault was potent enough to elicit a physical reaction, her features wrinkling involuntarily as she winced.

"No wonder the other tenants have been complaining about the trash smell. Seems it originates from here," she muttered, her voice tinged with a mixture of irritation and apprehension.

Her gaze swept over the expanse of the room, now dominated by an overwhelming pile of refuse, and it was clear that the room bore the brunt of the blame for the pervasive odor.

Navigating her way inside, the landlady's emotions swung like a pendulum between genuine concern and unmitigated repulsion.

Her footsteps hesitated momentarily, as if the sheer disarray before her challenged her ability to process what lay within.

With a steady breath, she ventured further, her gaze sweeping the room in search of any sign of Viktor's presence amidst the refuse.