I remember the first time I saw him. He was a man of sharp angles and cold eyes, a tenant who treated the apartment like a hotel and me like a piece of furniture. He didn't know I was there, of course. To him, I was just a "draft" or a "creak in the floorboards."

I wasn't always a draft. I had been a woman who loved the smell of rain and the sound of a cello. But I had died in this room, alone, with my last breath spent on a prayer that no one heard.

For months, I tried to reach him. I didn't want to scare him; I wanted to save him. I saw the way the pipes were leaking in the basement, the way the old wiring was sparking behind the wallpaper. I saw the slow, invisible seep of gas filling the lower floors.

I tried everything. I threw a vase—it shattered, and he just cursed and swept it up. I screamed into the wind—he just closed the window and turned up the radio. I tried to write "GAS" in the dust on the mirror, but he just wiped it away with a cloth, his face a mask of indifference.

To him, I was a "nuisance." A "poltergeist." A "problem to be solved."

He eventually brought in the Exorcist. The man was a technician of the soul, carrying a briefcase full of sensors and "spiritual dampeners." He didn't look for the cause of my distress; he only looked for the frequency of my existence.

"You're just a bug in the system," the Exorcist told him, his voice devoid of emotion.

The Exorcist produced a device—a silver, mesh-like cap that emitted a low-frequency hum. He didn't need me to cooperate. He simply activated the field, and I felt a sudden, violent pull.

The cap didn't just bind me; it silenced me. It wrapped around my consciousness like a shroud of lead, cutting off my connection to the physical world. I felt my voice being compressed, my memories being archived, my very essence being locked into a silent, dark box.

As I was dragged away by the unseen forces of the "cleansing" process, I looked back one last time. I saw the tenant sitting on his sofa, finally enjoying the "peace" he had paid for.

And then, I saw the spark.

A tiny, blue flicker of electricity jumped from the wallpaper to the gas leak in the wall. I tried to scream, but I had no voice. I tried to reach out, but I was already gone.

The last thing I felt was the vibration of the explosion, a sudden, blinding light that finally made the tenant notice me.

*** Objective Tensor Code: [M1:10, N2:0.9, K1:0.8, TI:82.0, Theta:135] OTMES_v2: {Core: (M1, N2, K1), Vector: [10, 0.9, 0.8], Status: T1-Despair}