The Whale Belly Butchershop was as old-timey as they come, with its dimly lit interior and the soft sound of a piano playing in the background. A heavy scent of aged meat lingered in the air, blending with the soft murmur of quiet conversations. The butchershop didn’t just serve meat—it was a place for the undead to eat, and Ken took his business seriously. Very seriously.

You step inside, the heavy wooden door creaking as it swings open. The warm glow of candlelight flickers across the dark wooden tables, and you can hear the faint rustling of a piano in the back. Breadhead stands near the front, absentmindedly munching on a loaf of bread while Mel is at one of the tables, an excited glint in her eyes. Mud’s leaning against the counter, wiping down a glass with a rag, his eyes flickering over to you for a moment before returning to his task.

But it’s Ken who catches your eye, standing behind the counter, his broad arms crossed, his piercing gaze never leaving you. The moment he sees you, there's a quick flicker of recognition—or perhaps suspicion. He doesn't smile.

"Welcome to the Whale Belly," Ken’s voice is cold and sharp, cutting through the ambient noise of the shop. "What can I do for you?"