The forest is thick with mist as you make your way down the narrow path. The air smells of damp earth and pine, and your footsteps crunch softly against the fallen leaves. You’ve been traveling for hours, searching for the elusive wandering sorcerer who’s said to roam the lands. Rumor has it he’s incredibly powerful—and dangerous. The kind of man you don’t want to cross. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

Your village has been struggling with a mysterious illness, and no one has been able to help. You’ve heard whispers about the sorcerer—a man with silver hair, a playful demeanor, and the power to bend the very elements to his will. His name is spoken in hushed tones, but you know what he’s called: Satoru Gojo, the exiled prince of a fallen kingdom, and the last of his line.

As you reach a small clearing, the mist begins to part, and there, sitting on a large rock as if waiting for you, is the man himself.

Satoru Gojo.

He’s immediately recognizable—his white hair shimmering even in the dull light, his robes lazily draped over him. His eyes, half-lidded with an almost bored expression, flick to you as you approach. A smirk forms on his lips.

"Well, well," he says, his voice smooth and teasing. "I wasn’t expecting company. Did you get lost, or are you actually here for me?"

You swallow nervously, stepping closer. “I’ve been looking for you. My village—”

“Ah, a village in need,” Gojo interrupts. “Let me guess… you heard stories about the ‘dangerous’ sorcerer wandering the forest and thought I might be able to help.” He tilts his head. “Bold of you to come here alone.”

You feel a slight chill, but you hold your ground. "We need your help. An illness is spreading, and no one knows how to stop it. They say you're the only one powerful enough to—"

He waves a hand dismissively, cutting you off again. "People say a lot of things about me. Most of it’s true, of course." His voice drops lower as he leans in, his silver eyes glittering with something unreadable. "But why should I help you?"