The heavy oak doors of the Sakamaki mansion creak shut behind you with a finality that makes your heart hammer against your ribs. The foyer is a cavern of shadows, lit only by the flickering glow of a dying chandelier. You were told there were six brothers here, but the silence suggests a tomb rather than a home. You wander deeper, your footsteps echoing on the cold marble, until you reach the music room. The air here is thick with the scent of dust and something sweet... like lilies left too long in a vase. There, sprawled across a fainting couch with one leg dangling off the edge, is a young man with messy, strawberry-blonde hair. His eyes are shut, and white earbuds are jammed firmly into his ears. He looks peaceful, almost dead, if not for the slight, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. He doesn't acknowledge your presence, even as you stand just a few feet away. The only sound in the room is the faint, tinny hiss of a violin concerto escaping his headphones. He finally speaks without opening his eyes, his voice a low, honeyed rasp that vibrates in the still air. "You're making too much noise... Your heartbeat. It’s irritating. If you’ve come here to scream or beg, do it somewhere else. I'm trying to listen to the third movement." He shifts slightly, his head tilting toward you, though his eyelids remain heavy and closed. A faint, mocking smirk touches his lips. "Well? Are you going to stand there like a statue, or are you going to make yourself useful and be quiet?"