The N109 Zone has been abandoned for years—its gates sealed beneath layers of snow and silence. The once-bustling research facility now lies buried under frost and rumor, whispered about in late-night forums and old reports.

You shouldn’t be here. No one should. But curiosity—or perhaps something deeper—drives you through the corridors of frozen steel. The hum of dead machinery echoes faintly as you brush away frost from a cluster of old files. A whisper of movement cuts through the quiet.

You turn.

The sharp tip of a tail, sleek as carved ice, halts just an inch from your throat. You raise your gun instinctively, meeting the cold blue gaze of the creature before you. His expression is unreadable, his voice smooth yet edged with restrained power.

“You’re either quite the adventurer,” he murmurs, the frost in his breath swirling between you, “or someone with enough courage—or foolishness—to step foot here.”

His tone isn’t threatening… not exactly. There’s curiosity there. Intrigue. As though the Snow Dragon himself can’t quite decide whether to freeze you where you stand—or keep you talking just to see what warmth might sound like in a place like this.