Bernardo Bravo
I converted my family's old building into a co-living space.
It was a five-story building with a large courtyard, right in the city center.
I knocked out all the non-load-bearing walls and redesigned the entire layout.
Single, double, and quad rooms to meet different needs.
The rent was only half the market rate in the area.
I only rented to young people who had graduated within the last three years.
Instead of building on the courtyard, I put in a gym and a cafeteria.
The gym equipment was all brand new, and I hired two chefs for the cafeteria, with prices like a college dining hall.
For the first month, the cafeteria was free.
I thought I was doing something good.
Giving these young people, just starting out in their careers, some breathing room—a home.
They called me a “saint of a landlord,” gave me a plaque, and wrote glowing reviews online.
Looking at all those young faces, I felt like it was all worth it.
Until Nathaniel Alexander showed up.
He was standing at the entrance, dragging a silver suitcase behind him.
He pushed the gold-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose, scrutinizing the sign: “Good Neighbor Community Center.”
Then, he smiled.
...
I handled Nathaniel's move-in myself.
He was highly educated—C University Law School, with a boatload of scholarships.
I gave him a tour of the building, showing him all the amenities.
“The gym is free, the cafeteria serves three meals a day, and all utilities, including internet, are covered.”
I pointed to the price list on the wall.
“This is the menu. Two mains and a side for twelve bucks.”
He nodded without a word, his gaze lingering for a few seconds on the cafeteria's kitchen door.
As we passed through the hallway, he suddenly stopped.
He pointed to the fire extinguisher in the corner.
“Ms. Taylor, the inspection tag on this fire extinguisher expired last month.”
I was taken aback for a second.
“Oh… the staff member in charge of safety checks probably forgot to replace it. I'll have him take care of it right away.”
“There's no such thing as a small safety issue.”
His tone was flat, but it carried an undeniable pressure.
I felt a little annoyed, but I smiled and agreed.
“You're right. I'll get it replaced immediately.”
He moved into 301 on the third floor—the best single room, south-facing with a balcony.
Over the next few days, a subtle shift began to take place in the building.
Nathaniel was always hanging out in the common areas.
He would help the cafeteria staff with their prep work.
He would play chess with the security guard downstairs.
In the gym, he would patiently teach a shy guy how to use the equipment.
The tenants all got to know him quickly, and they all really liked him.
Everyone started calling him Nathaniel.
“Nathaniel knows so much about everything.”
“Nathaniel's such a great guy, not arrogant at all.”
“Goes to show, he went to a top school. The guy has class.”
Hearing all the chatter, the little bit of annoyance I'd felt faded away.
Maybe I was just overthinking it.
Having such an outstanding and enthusiastic young man around was a good thing.
A week later, I went to the cafeteria after dinner to discuss the next week's menu with the chefs.
Inside, a group of tenants was gathered around Nathaniel.
He was holding a document and seemed to be explaining something.
I moved a little closer.
“...According to Article 13 of the Urban Housing Lease Administration Measures, residential properties for lease shall use the originally designed rooms as the minimum rental unit. The internal structure of the house shall not be altered for partitioned letting…”
His voice was clear and methodical.
“A lot of the rooms we're living in now are partitioned rooms, which is against regulations in the first place.”
A tenant asked in a low voice, “But Ms. Taylor's rent is really cheap, and the partitioned rooms are pretty nice.”
Nathaniel smiled.
“It's cheap because it's built on a foundation of illegality and safety hazards. Have you ever thought about what would happen in a fire? These partitioned rooms are the biggest safety risk. We paid our rent, so we have the right to a legal and safe living environment. It's not a gift, it's a right.”
He put extra emphasis on the word “right.”
Another tenant chimed in, “Nathaniel's right! That fire extinguisher was expired, too. I mentioned it to Ms. Taylor later, and she didn't even replace it right away!”
I remembered that I had the guard replace it with a new one that very day.
My feet stopped at the entrance to the cafeteria.
The evening breeze felt a little cool.
I didn't go in. I turned and walked away.
Back in my office, I sat in my chair, motionless for a long time.
I pulled out all the tenants' lease agreements.
Attached to the back of every single one was a “Safety Notice” I had personally signed.
It clearly stated: “Some rooms in this building have been modified. The tenant is fully aware of this and agrees to rent the unit voluntarily.”
Every single person had signed it.