Beans Do Not Equal Happiness

Jarel climbed the stairs to his apartment, each step demanding more effort than it should have. Step after step. Trudge after trudge. One leg, then the other.

A bag hung from his shoulder - professional, stylish - containing nothing more than an empty lunchbox and a laptop. His hair, almost jet-black, was styled in a neat side part that could have landed him a modelling spot in a barber shop window. But his brown eyes were hollow. They stayed fixed on the stair ahead, measuring, observing.

He looked every bit the perfect salaryman. His soul did not match.

He didn’t lift his gaze even when he reached the top floor, nor when the door of the neighboring apartment opened without warning. Only the flicker of movement drew his eyes up from his feet.

A rather short elderly lady stood there, smiling warmly.

“Hello, dear. How was work?”

Jarel managed a small smile.

“It was fine, Aunty Sayang.”

She wasn’t actually his aunty - but she insisted he call her that, and he wasn’t one to disrespect an old lady’s wishes. Especially not when she was such a bright light.

“And work was productive?”

He nodded, already prepared to lie.

“It was.”

Her smile deepened. Then, as if conjured from thin air, she produced a small box and held it out to him.

“Here. I made too many cookies, so I thought I’d give some to you.”

This time, his smile was genuine. He accepted the box - carefully wrapped in a ribbon and topped with a bow - handling it like something fragile.

“You’re too kind, Aunty.”

She waved him off.

“Nonsense. Now, I’d invite you inside, but you look dead tired. Go have a bath.” Her eyes softened. “It was nice to talk to you, dear.”

He nodded.

“Thank you, Aunty. I’ll return the box tomorrow.”

“You better.”

She winked, and with a giggle, closed the door behind her.

Jarel glanced down at the box in his hands, then continued along the walkway to his own apartment. His keys jingled softly as the lock clicked open.

Darkness greeted him.

He stepped inside with a long exhale. Closed the door. Flicked on the light.

The room brightened to reveal a simple space. A short entryway with a cupboard built into the wall. To the left, a compact kitchen - small, but not so much that cooking felt like a punishment. Beyond it sat a dining table, and further in, a modest living area with a couch, coffee table, and TV unit. To the right were two doors: the nearer one the bathroom, the further the bedroom.

That was all.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

He kicked off his shoes and padded inside, setting his bag by the entrance after retrieving the empty lunchbox. Both boxes ended up on the kitchen island. He shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over the back of a chair.

A sigh hovered on his lips.

Instead, he picked the jacket back up, carried it to the bedroom by the collar, and hung it neatly in the wardrobe.

Then he turned toward the bathroom.

He plugged the bath and turned on the tap.

Too cold.

He nudged it up - too hot. Back down. Too cold again.

It took a solid half minute to get it to his liking.

Leaving the water to run, he wandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Leftover Mexican-style mince with nachos it was. He pulled out the container and slid it into the microwave. While it hummed to life, he found a plate and the salad he’d prepared the night before, serving it up as the food heated.

When the microwave beeped, he piled the mince and beans onto the plate and began eating as he returned to check on the bath.

The apartment’s water pressure wasn’t great. The tub was only about halfway to his preferred level, so he sat beside it and waited, turning the temperature up slightly. By the time he shut the tap, the bath was full and his meal finished - perfect timing, the water now just beginning to cool.

He stood, left the plate on the kitchen island, and shut the bathroom door behind him as he stripped down.

The bath was perfect. Warm. Soothing. Exactly what he needed.

But not especially interesting.

Eventually, it cooled. He climbed out, dried off, and pulled on casual clothes. The sun hadn’t quite set yet, and long golden rays spilled through the window into the living area. His hair was still damp, sticking up in places, but he didn’t bother fixing it.

He sighed, taking in the apartment.

It would need a good clean in a few days. If he had the energy.

All he really wanted was to lie down and binge another trashy anime, but the world, unfortunately, demanded his attention.

A mental list assembled itself.

Clean the kitchen. Take stock of groceries in preparation for weekend shopping. Answer the emails waiting in his inbox. Then - if he could summon the will - finish the legal documents he’d been putting off for weeks.

He groaned, stretched, and rolled his shoulders, preparing to tackle the dishes when an unexpected sound rang out.

Knock knock knock.

He turned toward the door, startled. No one ever visited him. Aunty Sayang only came by on weekends, and even then not often - and she usually intercepted him in the hallway with uncanny precision. He’d half-joked more than once that she had cameras hidden throughout the building.

Shaking the thought away, he forced himself back on track.

Was it a prank?

He frowned, deciding to do nothing. If the knocking came again, he’d check.

One second passed.

Then another.

Then a third.

He began counting down the seconds he’d tolerate standing there before returning to his chores.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven-

Knock knock knock.

Another sharp burst of three.

Uncertainly, he approached the door. Grasped the handle. Listened to the soft click as the latch released.

The door swung inward.

His heart stopped.

Standing in the hallway was the last thing he expected.

A girl.

And a pretty one at that.

She smiled brightly.

“Hello, Jarel! I am Quanlin, a demon of the deadly sin of sloth, and as of today, I will be moving in with you!”

He blinked.