Chapter 4: The Breaker Trap
The next night, I was at home cooking when suddenly the power went out.
That shouldn’t happen—I’d just paid the electric bill yesterday.
I immediately knew what was up.
I stepped into the hallway. The fridge clicked off, and the hum of city traffic outside suddenly felt a hundred miles away. Sure enough, my breaker had been flipped.
The door across from me was closed tight, playing innocent.
I gotta say, tricks like smearing crap and cutting power are truly low—hard to guard against, and there’s never any proof. Even if you caught them and called the police, at most they’d get a warning. Nothing more.
Most normal people would lose their minds with neighbors like this.
But now that they’ve met me, they’re the only ones who’ll suffer.
I smiled, calmly flipped the breaker back on, and went inside.
Not long after, the power cut out again.
I did the same—quietly flipped it back on.
The third time the power went out, I opened my door without hurrying.
The hallway tyrant was standing under the electrical panel, right hand gripping the breaker. When he saw me, he looked rattled.
His face was red as a tomato, sweat beading on his forehead. His hand trembled, eyes darting from the panel to me and back again.
"What, is flipping breakers your new hobby?"
He tried to yank his hand away, but it wouldn’t budge.
I grinned: "That’s fast-drying super glue. Feels nice, huh?"
Only then did he realize he’d walked right into my trap.
"You jerk! You set me up!"
His voice cracked as he struggled, and for the first time, I saw real panic flicker across his face—like the schoolyard bully finally getting a taste of his own medicine. Upstairs, someone’s dog barked. Down the hall, the elevator dinged. I just smiled, leaning back against the wall, feeling the whole absurd battle tip in my favor. And for the first time, I wondered—just how far was this war going to go?