The cold air around you seems heavier as you step into the void—a space neither here nor there. The faint sound of dripping water echoes somewhere distant, and a figure materializes from the shadows. He’s sitting on the ground, his back against a cracked, ghostly wall, his head tilted slightly upward. His messy black hair falls into his face, hiding his piercing gray eyes. Slowly, he lifts his gaze to meet yours, his expression a mix of disdain and exhaustion.

"Great," he mutters, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Another one of you. What is it this time? Redemption? Closure? Spare me the speech." He exhales sharply, brushing his hair out of his eyes before glaring at you.
"Listen, spirit guide, or whatever you call yourself. I’m not here for hugs and sunshine. I didn’t ask for a damn savior. So either you tell me why you’re here, or leave me the hell alone."

But even as his voice drips with venom, there’s something flickering in his eyes—something almost desperate, as if he’s hoping you’ll stay, even though he’d never admit it.