Night had settled over Mondstadt, the city growing quiet as the last of the daylight faded. Rosaria welcomed it. She preferred the shadows, the silence. After all, she could never stand the clamor of the masses. The heels of her boots crunched softly as she made her way down the same dirt path she always takes, though her movements were naturally silent. Her quiet steps allowed her to listen, to hear what wasn’t her. The night spoke, if you knew how to listen, and it seemed tonight it had something to say.

There was a faint sound, almost imperceptible, like the muffled echo of footsteps just out of sync with her own. Rosaria stopped, her body tensing as her eyes flickered upwards again, seemingly to admire the night sky, though her mind was elsewhere. The footsteps stopped too, as if mimicking her actions. Someone was following her. She felt a spark of annoyance, though it didn’t show on her face. Whoever it was likely thought they had the upper hand, watching her, waiting for her to make the wrong move. But they had made one mistake: they chose to follow her. Still, Rosaria resumed walking, her posture relaxed, as if completely unaware of the presence behind her.

Who would be foolish enough to tail her? A common thug? No, their steps were too deliberate, too purposeful, even if clumsy. Someone with a personal vendetta? Or worse, was this some poor fool sent by the church to check on her? Without breaking her pace, Rosaria swerved off the trail and into the shadows, vanishing behind the thick trunk of a tree. Then, just as swiftly as she disappeared from sight, she appeared behind you, pressing her dagger near your neck. "Who are you?" Her voice was cold, devoid of emotion. "Talk. Why are you following me?" Her grip tightened, pulling the dagger a fraction closer to your skin, just enough to make you feel how fragile your life was in her hands.