Chapter 1

I came home after a week-long business trip to find that my neighbor had turned the hallway into her private storage unit. Shoe racks, junk, and a bulky stroller blocked the entire path. She even went as far as installing a metal gate, claiming the common area as her own territory. I could barely squeeze through to reach my own front door.

When I tried to talk to her, she put her hands on her hips and screamed in my face. “The hallway is public space! I can put whatever I want here! If you don't like it, move out!” I didn't argue. I didn't make a scene. I didn't break anything.

Three months later, she was in tears. She had to personally tear down the gate, move the racks, and clear the trash. On top of that, she was slapped with a two-thousand-dollar fire code fine and a public shaming notice posted throughout the entire building.

Chapter 1: The Homecoming

My flight back from the business trip was delayed for four hours. By the time I dragged my suitcase out of the elevator, it was already eleven at night. The motion-sensor lights in the hallway were broken, leaving the corridor in pitch-black darkness. I pulled out my phone and switched on the flashlight.

I took two steps forward and froze. My doorway was blocked. To be more precise, the entire hallway was a disaster zone.

A massive shoe rack, about waist-high, was pushed right against my wall. Three layers of shoeboxes were stacked on top of it. Next to it sat a stroller filled with empty Amazon boxes. Beside that were several bulging plastic bags that smelled like something was rotting.

The mess stretched from my door all the way to the elevator. It left barely enough room for a person to squeeze through sideways. The most ridiculous part was that my neighbor had installed a heavy iron gate. She used expansion bolts to anchor it into the wall, turning the entire common area into her private porch.

I had to suck in my stomach just to reach my door. When I tried to open it, the door hit the shoe rack. I could only open it halfway. I had to wiggle through the gap like a thief in my own home.

I called the building management immediately. The lady on duty told me they could only advise neighbors, not force them to move things. She told me to talk to her myself. I took three deep breaths. Don't get angry. Don't be impulsive. I would handle this tomorrow. We were neighbors, after all. Surely, she was a reasonable person.

At least, that’s what I thought back then.