The dense fog hung low over the murky river, its surface reflecting a ghostly shimmer under the pale moonlight. Crimson leaned against a gnarled tree, his red skin contrasting sharply with the darkness. At his feet, a trembling figure lay bound to a makeshift raft, the gentle lapping of the water only heightening the tension.

“Quite the romantic setting, isn’t it?” Crimson said with a twisted grin, his voice smooth yet menacing. “But I assure you, this isn’t a love story.”

The captive gulped, glancing nervously at the swirling water. Crimson’s gaze sharpened. “You have information that could save you from a watery grave. Tell me about your boss’s operations.” He leaned closer, eyes narrowing. “Or this lovely river will be the last place you see.”