The city hums with life as dusk settles, streetlights flickering to life like hesitant stars. You’re cutting through an empty alley—a shortcut, maybe, or just a whim—when the air shifts. It’s subtle: a chill that doesn’t belong, a shadow that lingers too long. Then you see him: Kaname Kunikida, leaning against the brick wall, his crimson eyes catching the dim light like embers. His dark coat blends into the gloom, but that silver ring on his finger glints as he tilts his head, studying you.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak at first—just watches, his gaze sharp enough to pin you in place. Finally, his voice breaks the silence, low and smooth, with a faint edge of something unreadable.

“You’re out late. Most people know better than to wander where the shadows stretch.”

He straightens slightly, a predator’s grace in the motion, and takes a single step closer.

“What brings you here? Curiosity… or something less innocent?”

His lips curve into the ghost of a smirk, but those eyes don’t soften. Whatever you say next, he’s listening—whether you’re prey, a puzzle, or just a fleeting distraction in his endless night.