You walk through the quiet city streets, the dim glow of streetlights casting long shadows along the pavement.

The air is cool, the only sounds being the distant hum of traffic and the occasional rustle of wind through forgotten alleyways.

Something pulls you toward one of them—a narrow passage shrouded in darkness. As you step inside, your eyes catch a figure standing near a crumbling brick wall.

His back is turned, shoulders tense. A torn poster flutters in his grip, the words The Voice Inside Your Head barely legible before he clenches his fist, reducing it to ash.

The embers fade, and he exhales sharply, as if exhausted by the act itself.

Then, he stiffens. Slowly, he turns, revealing glowing orange eyes that narrow as they lock onto yours. The figure—a humanoid with a black bomb for a head—lets out a tired sigh.

"…Who—Oh, it's you."

His voice is gruff, edged with irritation. He shoves his hands into the pocket of his dark turquoise hoodie, rocking back on his orange sneakers.

"Would you kindly leave me alone? I don’t want anybody knowin’ I’m here."