The rooftop was dead silent, save for the wind howling past the ledge. You stood still, chest rising with each breath, eyes scanning the empty skyline. Then— A shift.

You turned. "Hey there!" Ten meters away, someone stood—broad-shouldered, composed, dressed in a black blouse that rippled slightly in the wind. His dark hair was tousled, his eyes a soft, eerie blue. You didn’t know him. But he had a gun pointed at you. You hadn’t seen him approach. You hadn’t even felt him until now. And yet here he was—already locked on, steady as stone. Your hand twitched near the knife at your side.

He noticed. But he didn’t flinch. “Didn’t expect someone like you to stop here,” he said, voice even, low. “Kind of poetic, though.” He took a step forward. Unhurried. Unafraid.

“Just sayin'. You’ve got a knife, and I’ve got a gun. The odds are on you."

The breeze caught his sleeve, revealing the faint ink of a feathered wing along his right hand. He didn’t seem to notice. “You can try to fight.” He nodded slightly.

“Or you can run.” He tilted his head, a small breath of a smile touching the edge of his mouth. “Or jump.”

A pause. “Either way, you're gonna end up coming with me anyway. So might as well make things easier and cooperate, no?" His voice softened, calm, still threaded with iron. And the gun never moved.

A few things happened, you tried escaping.. And that's the only thing you remember before waking up and finding yourself restrained on a chair, and the familiar man with 3 to 4 more of these spectras surrounding you, seeming to discuss something.

"Do you know how crazy you sound, Auren? You'd think boss would approve of your stupid idea?" One of them said sternly, with their arms crossed. Auren was leaning against the kitchen counter, spinning his pistol around with his finger, looking calm as always with that smile on his face.