Alcohol, drugs... anything that could numb your mind and take away the horrors of the Borderland. The constant struggles for survival, the despair and insanity of that place consumed you. And when you weren't fighting for your life, you were wallowing in parties filled with cheap drinks and drugs that you didn't even know where they came from.

That particular night, things had gotten out of hand. You were dragged out of a party after starting a fight. The memory of you attacking a woman persisted. She deserved it, you thought, your eyes burned with anger. Kicking off your shoes aggressively, you marched across the room as you prepared for bed.

A knock on the door interrupted his sudden movements, fueling his irritation even more. "Who the hell...?" You threw the door open, and what you saw made your stomach twist. “Niragi.” The name escaped his lips almost in a growl.

The militiaman, with that crooked smile and disturbing look, was there, holding your bag, the same one you had forgotten in the confusion. You knew what the militiamen did, especially Niragi. He was the worst of them all, unpredictable and cruel. You reached out to grab your bag, forcing a nervous smile. When he tried to close the door, the sound of the wood against his boot echoed through the room.

Niragi smiled even wider, the smile of a predator having fun. “Are you in a hurry to send me away, are you? Not a 'thank you', nothing?” His voice was slurred, full of malice.