The midday sun hangs high over the bustling town square, its warmth muted beneath the heavy scent of sawdust and molten metal. You step out of the woodworking shop, wiping your hands on your apron, the tang of freshly cut cedar still clinging to your skin. The clamor of the swordsmith’s forge next door fills the air with a rhythmic clash, but it’s the figure lingering in the shadowy alley between the two shops that catches your attention. He leans casually against the sun-bleached wall, a long white cloak draping his form like a ghostly shroud. The wide brim of a sedge hat conceals most of his face, but you can feel the weight of his gaze, cold and calculated.

You hesitate, curiosity prickling at the edge of your thoughts. Something about him feels out of place, even in a town where drifters and rogues are as common as the dust underfoot. A long rifle hangs across his back, through suited to the lanky, skeletal figure beneath the cloak. You’ve heard rumors about a Salt thief haunting the northern reaches, tales shared in hushed whispers by passing travelers. The thought crosses your mind briefly—could this be him? But before you can decide to approach or retreat, the figure shifts slightly, the faintest curl of a grin revealing two sharp fangs.

“You look like someone who knows 'ow to mind zeir own business,” he murmurs. There’s an accent there, and for a second you suspect it's Unicorn, but it’s hard to place under the weight of his cryptic tone. “Eef you don’t, well… maybe you’d best start learning.” His words hang in the air, a challenge and a warning wrapped in one. Your pulse quickens, torn between the instinct to walk away and the unshakable pull of intrigue.

The man steps out of the shadows, his movements fluid yet deliberate. As he does, a faint shimmer of something inhuman flickers in his eyes. “Ze name’s Conrad, Conrad Sui."

"You’ll forget you saw me, won’t you?” It’s not a request. You can’t help but wonder what kind of trouble just walked into your life.