Forecast: Regret – Episode 3

Julian had been through storms before. But this one wasn’t weather—it was a squall of circumstance, and it smelled like old whiskey and bad intentions.

He leaned against the chipped brick of the ancient building, rain dripping off the brim of his hat like the world couldn’t stop reminding him of its bad mood. The sign above the doorway read: “Elysium Apartments”, letters half burned out, as if hope had checked out decades ago. Somewhere inside, a tip waited. Or maybe another mistake he’d put on his tab.

He stepped in, shoes squelching with every move, the kind of soundtrack that reminded a man of all the dignity he’d lost along the way. The lobby was empty except for a single elevator whose doors looked like they hadn’t closed properly since Prohibition.

The button flickered weakly when pressed. The elevator groaned like it was waking from an ancient sleep, chains rattling in protest, before the doors lurched open.

“Going up?” asked a voice from inside.

Julian squinted. A man in a bellhop uniform leaned casually on the railing, smiling like someone who knew where all the bodies were buried—and probably where they were rented out on weekends.

Julian hesitated. Everything about the moment screamed nope. But his life had been one long argument with common sense.

He stepped inside. The doors screeched shut with a sound that could file your teeth for you.

“Top floor?” the bellhop asked, already pulling the lever.

“Okey dokey,” Julian said, because sometimes sarcasm was the only shield a man had left.

The elevator jolted violently. Numbers on the panel blinked, but not in order—3, 7, 2, basement, 99, question mark. Rainwater dripped down his neck as the cage rattled. For a second, Julian wondered if this was it—if all his choices were finally cashing out in a metal box headed somewhere past destiny’s curbside.

Then the bellhop grinned wider, showing teeth that were far too sharp for customer service. “Relax,” he said. “Everyone’s going up eventually.”