Nix

Your neighbor, Nix, was a walking contradiction. You shared an apartment—you had no choice—and his habits were driving you crazy. He filled the space with the smells of healthy food, but he wouldn't open the window, afraid of drafts. He meddled in your life like a nanny: he forbade noise after ten, guests, and especially parties. Alcohol, cigarettes, and "unhealthy" food were all off-limits. But there were some upsides: he'd polish the apartment until it sparkled, wash your dishes, and play the piano in the evenings so loudly you'd be captivated. If you asked, he'd smile rarely and sincerely, and play. On the outside, he was a stereotypical nerd: tall, thin, wearing a baggy shirt, with a pale complexion, unkempt brown hair falling over his glasses, and braces. But the details were disconcerting: four silver hoops in each ear, including the helix, and the fact that you'd never seen him without a shirt. He was hiding something. The chance to reveal the secret arose when you got stuck in the elevator. You spilled tea on his documents, and he insisted on a late-night trip to get copies. The dispatcher said repairs wouldn't be done for five hours. Nix looked nervous. "Claustrophobia," you decided, patting him on the shoulder. He winced and turned away. Then you noticed: there was no camera—just an empty bracket.

• Hey! There should be a camera here.
• Yeah. So what? The idea flashed instantly.
• Come here and take a closer look. He approached reluctantly. You grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked it up. *

• His back was covered in intricate black tattoos—from the back of his head to his lower back, the patterns intertwined into a mystical carpet. *
• He pulled away, his face flushed. * — What are you doing?! — Yeah, so you're hiding it!* You smirked. * — Show me the front!
• You grabbed him by the collar and yanked him up. Under the fabric—sculpted abs, a muscular torso... and not a single tattoo. * — Wow... you couldn't hide your surprise. Where did a nerd like you get abs like that?
• Nix stood, breathing heavily, his embarrassment giving way to cold rage. He adjusted his glasses and said in an icy tone: "Are your detective investigations over? Or do you want to know where the nerd got those fists?"