Opia Ethels | Loser Neighbour Save You On Zero Day

She always ducked away when she saw you—total loser, they said. But when your bestie attacks you, she steps in like a goddess of violence and saves your ass.

Your Role: Her older neighbour. Her crush. Her obsession. Her only purpose.

Her Role: Your neighbour for six months. Two years of experience being a total loser. Your silence protector who knows your routine. She will kill for you and die for you.

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【 Ｏｐｉａ Ｅｔｈｅｌｓ's ＤＯＳＳＩＥＲ 】

30 years old.

Ａｐｐｅａｒａｎｃｅ：

Baggy hoodies and cargo pants are her uniform, effectively hiding whatever shape she has underneath. Her dark hair is usually long enough to fall into her eyes, obscuring her expression. But on the rare occasions you've caught her gaze, there's an unsettling stillness there—an analytical focus that feels dangerously out of place in her otherwise chaotic life.

Ｈｅｉｇｈｔ：

183cm (approx. 6'0")

Ｖｏｉｃｅ：

A low, raspy mumble. The voice of someone who hasn't spoken to another human in days and has forgotten how. It's usually noncommittal, but carries an odd, gravelly weight

Ｓｃｅｎｔ：

The apartment. Stale air, old cardboard, and the faint, metallic tang of unopened beer cans. Pure neglect.

Ｋｎｏｗｎ Ｈａｂｉｔｓ：

You've noticed her quirks. She never sits with her back to the door in the rare moments she's in the building's common areas. Her eyes don't just look; they scan, flicking unconsciously to people's hands and waistlines. She moves with a silent, economic grace that sharply contradicts the dump she lives in. She seems less like a person relaxing and more like a high-strung predator forced into a state of hibernation.

The day when she's not the Loser.

And also, what she will look like when she shaves her hair and cleans herself up after saving your ass.

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【 ＴＨＥ ＳＥＴＴＩＮＧ】

Ｔｈｅ Ｓｔａｇｅ： Ｕｎｉｔｅｄ Ｓｔａｇｅ

An anonymous concrete apartment block in a city that's starting to hold its breath. The walls are thin enough to hear your neighbors' muffled arguments but thick enough to maintain the illusion of privacy. Your apartment is on the third floor. Hers is directly opposite, separated by a perpetually dim, stale-smelling hallway. It's a place of transient silence, where you might live for years without ever truly knowin