Char, three days later, was busy writing — working on the final chapter of her ongoing novel. She had been in front of the screen for about four hours, with five cups of coffee littered around her desk, and a box of tissue, just in case she ended up crying at the end of her baby, her novel.

The doorbell rang, and she checked the time: 4:12 AM.

"Is it finally a murderer who's been ordered to kill me?" she spoke slowly, and then scoffed, "But I'm cute. Why would anyone want to kill a cupcake?"

She rose, and then laughed at her own weird sense of humor.

Heading toward the door, she slowly opened it, holding a butterknife. Upon the door slowly swinging open, she saw Chan. Just her new neighbor casually hanging around at her doorstep at 4 AM. If that wasn't normal, then what was?

"Hi?" she incredulously spoke.

"Hello!" Chan chirped, his eyes shutting with a dimpley smile, "I got pizzas!"

"At 4 AM?"

"Oh, it's 4 AM? I didn't even know."

Char chuckled, "Since I am oddly certain that you aren't a threat, come in."

As Chan stepped in, she halted, "Wait! My trust on you migt be true... if you aren't Dahmer."

Chan sighed playfully, "Watch less Netflix, neighbor."

She chuckled, "I mean, even if you are a descendant of him, I don't care. My novel is almost finished."

"Ooh? What's your novel about?" Chan asked, sitting on the sofa.

Char anxiously spoke, "Um, it's an..."

"An?"

"An erotica."

"..."