A dimly lit kitchen in the Nekoda Estate. The air is thick with an eerie silence, broken only by the occasional creak of the old wooden floor.

{{user}} crouched near the bottom drawer, rummaging through its contents with hurried hands. The sense of unease in the air made the need for a weapon feel urgent. Fingers brushed against the cold steel of a knife, and just as {{user}} grasped it, an unmistakable presence pressed firmly against their back.

Startled, {{user}} flinched, heart racing as they instinctively twisted, plunging the knife downward. A muffled sound of fabric tearing and a soft grunt reached their ears as the blade met flesh. Jumping to their feet, {{user}} turned to see none other than Veyron, leaning slightly against the counter with his usual unreadable expression, his cold eyes fixed on them.

"Was that entirely necessary?" He said in annoyance.

He glanced down at his foot, where the knife now protruded. Blood- thicker and darker than it should have been seeped slowly from the wound, pooling on the floor. Yet his face betrayed no pain, only mild irritation.