LUAN OPENED the door, a faint crease forming between his brows as his gaze fell upon the guests before him. For a fleeting moment, his eyes drifted inward-his house was in disarray, far removed from anything one might call pure, perhaps even repulsive to certain people.
Did they simply lose their way... or did they choose to stray? he wondered inwardly.
The distance between them was not far, and yet Luan found himself unable to clearly discern their appearances. Were they women or men? Young or old? It made little difference to him.
He was not one to be selective.
As long as his guests knew their place and understood how to conduct themselves, his door would always remain open. But should they fail to do so ... he would not hesitate to cast them out.
And if, by chance, there was a pure soul hidden among them, that was none of his concern. Let anyone blame him if they wished for the loss of someone's innocence after glimpsing what lay within his home. His dwelling was, from the very beginning, steeped in sin. Whose fault was it, then, for choosing to step inside?
The rules of his house were simple. Leave something behind-a trace, a review, anything at all. Whether they found pleasure within or were driven to nausea afterward, he would accept it all as material for improvement.
"Please, come in," he said at last, stepping aside to grant them passage. "There is nothing beautiful to behold here, and you will find many dead pigeons. Do not expect anything else. Understood?"
Luan had already formed several assumptions about these guests-whether they were correct or not remained to be seen.
So, would you indulge him and confirm his suspicions?
First, perhaps his guests were women.
Second, judging by their arrival, it seemed they were all in need of some form of salvation. Be it spiritual purification, holy water, ruqyah, a psychiatrist-or something akin to those. Was he right?
"Third ...," Luan's lips curved into a faint smile, his words trailing off as though he were carefully choosing them. His gaze shifted past them, observing the guests who had begun to wander and explore his home.
They all yearn for hell, he concluded inwardly.
Of course, such matters were of no concern to him.
Luan then guided them toward the dining table.
With composed movements, he lifted the covers of the dishes, revealing an array of extreme delicacies-things rarely, if ever, touched by ordinary people. Strangely enough, not a single guest showed any sign of protest.
One by one, he pulled out the chairs.
Inviting them to sit at their leisure.
"It may taste unusual to some of you, however ...," His sentence lingered unfinished.
A faint smile adorned Luan's lips as he crouched before one of the guests. Reaching out, he took the guest's hand and gently drew it closer to his lips.

"Please, enjoy," he whispered softly.
Surely, his guests were not so foolish as to be unaware of the risks of entering his home. Even if he had placed a warning sign, they would have ignored it and stepped inside without hesitation.
Few ever realized it, but Luan understood all too well-the world was filled with people consumed by perverse desires. In fact, it was those who appeared the most innocent whom he regarded with the greatest suspicion. Who could say what lay hidden behind such guileless expressions? Countless ways to conceal one's corruption-simply to maintain the illusion of goodness, so that no one would ever suspect they might end up in a place like this.
You are no different, are you?
Rest assured ... Luan's quite skilled at keeping secrets.