After the old man and Faust stepped into the house — the one that seemed as though it could collapse at any moment — they were greeted by an old woman. She was the old man's wife, his partner, his lifelong companion — whatever one wishes to call her.
(It's been years since I last came to this house… or maybe not years — perhaps that's an exaggeration. But at least months, I'd say. How can a house be so broken, so ruined… and yet, somehow, so peaceful?)
The old woman stepped behind her husband and Faust, gently pressing their backs, guiding them toward what could be called the living room — if one could call it that.
They entered the room — strangely enough, it didn't even have a door. The whole house, except for the kitchen and bathroom, felt like one single space, as if invisible lines had been drawn to divide it. It looked as though someone had tried to decorate, to build walls… but the armchairs were torn, and the wooden panels on the walls were cracked. How could anyone live here?
The old woman sat down on a ripped couch, its springs jutting out. Her husband sat beside her, and Faust lay down on the floor across from them. There was an innocent, pure smile on the woman's face — the kind that suited such a kind old lady, the kind of smile that could make you believe someone was good… if you didn't believe in hypocrisy.
The woman opened her half-closed eyes with delight."Faust! My dear, how are you? I hope you're doing well."
Faust drew his legs together. "I'm fi—"
But before he could even finish his first word, the woman burst out again:
"Where have you been!?""Are you feeling better now!?""How's your addiction!?""Are you hungry!?""Of course you are — I'm so sorry!!"
With sudden panic, she leapt up from her seat, and Faust immediately stood as well.
"Calm down, woman. You're overreacting. Why don't you sit, and we'll talk properly? I'll answer all your questions one by one," said Faust softly — clearly used to such situations. His voice carried such calm warmth that it seemed to settle the whole room.
The old man reached up from where he sat, resting his hand on his wife's shoulder, gently pulling her back down.
"Come on now, my dear. The boy's right — you're panicking again," he said.
The woman quietly sat back down. "If you say so… then it must be so. It's not my place to argue," she murmured, her voice small and embarrassed.
Faust straightened up a little, collecting himself. "Alright then, let's answer your questions, shall we?"
She nodded slowly, as if to say yes.
"The first thing you asked was how I've been. Well, to tell the truth, I'm doing great — seeing you today makes me even happier. Of course," he smirked, "I can't say the same about the wrinkled, sour-faced, croaky-voiced old corpse sitting next to you — your husband."
The old man's face changed exactly as Faust described — his brows furrowed, his wrinkled skin tightened, his lips twisted. "You little bastard. You just had to throw an insult in there, didn't you? What kind of sin did humanity commit to deserve being tested with the likes of you?" he growled.
Faust didn't even flinch.
"You're just a walking corpse now, old man," he said calmly.