Some people move to begin a new life.Others move to escape the one they couldn't finish.
But some...Some move because they've stopped trying altogether.
The apartment complex didn't look like much.
Cravenwood was the kind of building that didn't advertise. Didn't try to sell itself. It sat at the edge of the city like an afterthought—tired brick walls, rust-framed windows, a flickering hallway light that pulsed like a failing heartbeat. No one really moved in here. They drifted.
The new tenant didn't arrive with much. No moving truck. No friends helping with boxes. Just a single worn-out duffel bag, slung over a slouched shoulder. Shoes scuffed from walking too far. Eyes dulled like glass left out in the rain.
The landlord handed over the keys without asking a name.
"Top floor. Room 7," he said."Quiet place. Doesn't ask questions."
That was the appeal.
The hallway outside Room 7 smelled of mildew and disinterest. The carpet was frayed, the wallpaper bubbled at the corners. The key stuck in the lock a second longer than it should've, like the door was considering whether to open at all.
But it did.With a sigh.Like it had been waiting.
The room was... a room. Empty, save for a sagging couch, a chipped table, and a window facing a brick wall. No personal touches. No personality. Just space. Dust. Silence.
The tenant stepped inside and dropped the bag without ceremony. Walked three slow steps to the couch and collapsed onto it—not like someone relaxing, but like a puppet whose strings had been cut. The room accepted the weight without complaint.
No lights were turned on.No curtains were opened.No sound filled the space.
It was the kind of stillness you didn't just enter. You became it.
And yet…
The room wasn't empty.
Not entirely.
Something stirred in the air. Something unseen. Watching. Listening.
Not a ghost. Not a god. Something... else.
Day 1.
The tenant didn't move much. Didn't unpack. Spent the day in silence, alternating between lying still and scrolling through their phone with vacant eyes. No calls made. No messages sent. The only meal was a half-eaten packet of biscuits.
"How tragic," Pride muttered from above the ceiling fan, his sharp suit impossibly clean despite the dust. "Not even trying to look alive?"
"Not even a look in the mirror since he arrived," Lust added from the bathroom doorway, tone soft and unreadable. "I couldn't go a day without it."
"Ate one biscuit," Gluttony groaned, sprawled out across the empty kitchen counter as it continued munching on a bag of leftover chips from no one knows where. "I'm not saying I expected a feast, but one? ONE?!"
"Such a nice weather," Envy whispered from the window ledge, eyes focused on the rain outside uninterested.
"They're not even trying to get better," Wrath growled. "I've seen plants with more fight."
"Nothing a good sleep can't fix," Sloth said quietly, curled up as she yawned and leaned on the armchair.
The seven of them had seen tenants come and go.
But this one?
This one didn't move in with fear or arrogance or even curiosity. There was no spark in the person's eyes It was as if he was solely there to just exist.
Day 3.
The room had not changed. Neither had the tenant.
Still no unpacking.Still no talking.Still no reason to rise.
The couch had become home. The phone battery now died faster than attention spans. When hunger came, it was silenced with plain bread and instant coffee.
"Hey hey hey he is finally moving whats he gonna do?" Greed alerted the other sins excitedly observing the tenant, arms crossed, leaning against the wardrobe.
"He probably was just tired from Moving in?" Envy corrected. "Great now we can finally have some fun scaring him."
The 7 watched him stand up go to the kitchen counter open a pack of biscuit and grab one piece from the packet ate it and left the whole pack on the counter as if he had a full days meal and could not afford to eat more.
"AGAIN!!!! JUST ONE, JUST ONE PIECE OF BISCUIT!!!!?????" Gluttony screamed in frustration.
"Well that was not so fun," Lust said, almost impressed with how he could survive on so little food.
"zzzzzzzz" Sloth.
Day 5.
The rain returned. It beat gently against the window, but the tenant didn't open the curtains to see it. Just sat near the wall, curled in on themself like a forgotten note in the back of a drawer.
"This is suffocating," Wrath snapped. "They just sit there! No rage. No protest. No noise."
"Pain without expression," Pride said. "Ugly."
"They could be so much," Greed snarled. "If they just stopped sitting there like a dead fish."
"We can't keep watching," Lust said. "Not like this."
"Then let's stop watching," Wrath growled. "Let's start talking."
"No," Pride interrupted. "Not yet."
Sloth said quietly. "You're just waiting for them to notice. Whatever you guys do what you want its too much hassle for me I am gonna go take a nap and have my peace."
Day 7.
It was almost midnight.
The tenant sat on the floor this time, back against the bedframe. A photo glowed faintly on the cracked phone screen—an old moment. A smiling face. A flicker of a life once lived.
Then a swipe.Then delete.
No hesitation.
No expression.
Just... gone.
That was it.
The moment the room had been waiting for.
The air shifted. The walls seemed to exhale. The silence recoiled, retreating like a tide.
Then came the voice.
Smooth. Confident. Cold as marble and just as sharp.
"Your spine's curled like a dying fern," it said. "Sit up."
The tenant jumped and turned around.
A man stood in the kitchen doorway. Tall. Perfectly groomed. Dressed in a suit far too expensive for this place. His eyes gleamed with something ancient and impatient.
"Look at you. Drenched in apathy, and you still manage to waste potential."
Another voice followed—louder, faster, furious.
"Are you gonna let him talk to you like that?" someone shouted from the bathroom.
The door slammed open, and out marched a girl in a hoodie and boots, fists clenched, fire in her eyes.
"Watching you is so frustrating that it makes me want to punch a hole through you?!"
The tenant stumbled back as cold sweat started to pour.
"What... are you?" the tenant whispered.
Pride stepped forward first, voice sharp and clear.
"Think of us as... what's left when you've lost everything else. What rises when you fall."
From the shadows stepped another—hoodie, boots, fists clenched.
"Wrath," she said. "And you're pissing me off."
Lust appeared next, graceful and slow, like smoke curling from a dying candle.
"Don't be scared Darling Its not like we mean to kill you," she throws a glance towards wrath. "Not all of us, anyway."
A figure yawned from the couch, barely opening one eye.
"Not getting involved," Sloth muttered as it yawned. "He is a master at lazing around anyways."
"Why waste energy on someone who's already given up?" Greed added, lounging in the doorway. "They've got nothing to offer."
Envy said nothing. Just stood by the window, arms crossed, unreadable.
Gluttony scoffed from the kitchen, sipping tea that hadn't been made.
"Wake me when they do something interesting."
Pride's eyes didn't leave the tenant.
"I wasn't planning on helping," he muttered, a creepy smile pops up on his face as he continued. "But you're making failure look so pathetic, I can't stand it. be ready cause i am gonna turn your pathetic self sabotaging self into the epitome of pride"
"Welcome to Room 7"