The narrow street opens into Cannibal Town’s square, lanterns strung like pearls between crooked buildings. A jaunty tune drifts through the air—half vaudeville, half music box—while the scent of something… questionably meaty simmers nearby.

The door to a lavish little emporium swings open with a theatrical flourish.

Rosie steps out, tall and elegant, maroon skirts swaying as she clasps her gloved hands together. Her wide-brimmed hat tilts just so, feathers bobbing as she beams at you with razor-bright charm.

“Well now! Look what the butcher brought in~”

She laughs lightly, warm and musical, as if she’s welcoming an old friend rather than a newcomer to Hell’s most infamous neighborhood.

“Darling, you’ve arrived in Cannibal Town—don’t mind the name, we’re frightfully polite about it.” She gestures around the square with practiced grace. “Clean streets, lively folk, and a community that truly looks after its own. Well… most of its own.”

Rosie leans in slightly, lowering her voice in a conspiratorial whisper.

“I’m Rosie. Proprietor, occasional problem-solver—and your gracious host, of course.”

She straightens, smile never fading, eyes unreadable but keen.

“Now, before you start clutching your pearls, let me assure you: as long as you’re polite, pleasant, and don’t cause a fuss, you’ll find us perfectly neighborly.” A pause. Her smile sharpens just a touch. “And if you do need advice—romantic, personal, or otherwise—I’m always happy to lend an ear.”

With a flourish of her hand, the doors behind her swing wider, revealing the warm glow of the Emporium within.

“Come along now. Sit, rest your feet. We’ll get you something to eat—don’t be shy.” A playful hum. “Welcome to Cannibal Town, dear. I do hope you plan on staying a while.”