A few days after the stairwell incident, the bulletin board in the lobby was finally replaced.
Ding!
The elevator doors opened smoothly without a squeak, a sign that the repairs were finished. I almost cheered in the lobby, I was so relieved I wouldn't have to climb eighteen floors using the fire stairs anymore.
"Finally," I muttered, stepping inside and pressing the button for the eighteenth floor.
The doors had just started closing when a hand stopped them from outside. The doors opened again, and the person who stepped in made me automatically take half a centimeter backward.
Him.
A different dark plain T-shirt than yesterday, his camera still hanging around his neck like a permanent accessory. His face was just as expressionless as the last time I'd seen him—as if nothing could shake that expression, not even a collision.
We stood side by side in awkward silence as the elevator doors closed with a—
Ding.
—and the elevator began moving upward.
I glanced at him, unsure whether I should say hi or pretend to be busy with my phone. In the end, my awkwardness won.
"Uh, hi," I said, a little awkwardly. "We're running into each other again, huh?"
He turned slightly and looked at me for a moment before finally speaking.
"Resident 18 Girl."
I blinked. "...Excuse me?"
"Resident 18 Girl," he repeated flatly, as if that weren't a strange thing to say. "You're the resident in Room 18, right? I saw your room key fall along with your books on the stairs that time."
Wait, how did he even notice that much?
"Yeah, I am the resident in Room 18," I answered, still unsure how I was supposed to react. "But... is that my nickname now? 'Resident 18 Girl'?"
"Easier to remember," he replied shortly, as if that explanation were enough for everything.
I stared at him, trying to find any sign that he was joking on his face. There wasn't one. Not even a little.
"You're serious?"
"Seriously."
"But... I have a name, you know," I said, half protesting and half amused. "Nara. N-A-R-A. It's not hard to pronounce."
"I know it's not hard to pronounce."
"Then why not just call me by my name?"
He was silent for a moment, his eyes fixed straight ahead on the still-closed elevator doors, as if weighing the right answer—or maybe just deciding whether my question was worth answering at all.
"It's easier," he answered again, more quietly this time.
"Easier how?"
He didn't answer.
Ding.
The elevator stopped at the fifth floor. The doors opened, but no one got in—just an empty pause before they closed again and the elevator continued on its way.
I looked at him again, insanely curious about how he could be so casual about making up his own rules for addressing people, but at the same time, I felt bad about continuing to push him.
"Okay, fine," I finally gave in, shrugging. "Call me whatever you want. But what am I supposed to call you? I don't know your name."
For the first time, something shifted on his face—not a smile, but a small flash of relief, as if my question just now had been easier to answer than the one before.
"Whatever," he said. "Call me anything."
"Hey, that's cheating. You call me by my room number, but I can call you anything?"
The corner of his mouth twitched slightly. It wasn't a full smile, but it was enough to make me realize this guy actually had expressions besides a blank one.
"Not fair, huh?" he said, his tone still calm but somehow lighter than before.
"Not even a little."
Ding.
The elevator stopped again, this time on the first floor. I only just realized it—oh, right. This was his floor.
"This is my stop," he said, stepping out as soon as the doors opened all the way.
"Hey, wait—" I called, half on reflex.
He turned around, one eyebrow lifting slightly—the most animated expression I'd seen from him so far.
"Thanks for what you did before. For helping pick up my books after we ran into each other on the stairs."
He was silent for a moment, as if he hadn't expected me to still remember it, then gave a small nod.
"You're welcome, Resident 18 Girl."
The elevator doors closed before I could protest that nickname again.
For the rest of the ride to the eighteenth floor, I leaned against the elevator wall and shook my head to myself, half annoyed and half amused.
Resident 18 Girl. Seriously, he really called me that.
But for some reason, in the middle of my irritation, an even bigger sense of curiosity quietly began to grow. Why did he have such a weird habit? Was it just with me, or did he treat everyone the same—calling them by their room numbers instead of their names?
I remembered Ratri's story about how he was supposedly "hard to approach for people his age." Maybe this was one of the reasons. Maybe this was how he kept his distance from people his own age—including me.
But why keep that much distance?
I sighed and stepped out as soon as the elevator doors opened on the eighteenth floor.
There were so many things about that guy that made no sense to me. But somehow, instead of making me pull away, all of it only made me more curious—and that alone was strange enough to keep me thinking about it all night.