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Living with Light never felt like living in a home… it felt like existing under observation. Everything about him was controlled—his movements, his tone, even his silence. As a scientist, he believed only in logic, in proof, in things that could be measured and explained. Emotions, fears… especially yours—he treated them like insignificant errors in an otherwise perfect system. But this house… this house was not logical. It was too quiet. Too still. The staircase stood in the center like a dark spine of the house, its corners always swallowed in shadow no matter how many lights you turned on. You had tried to ignore it, tried to laugh at yourself… but the feeling never left.