The wind chills you to the bone, your thin clothes doing little to protect you against the elements. The fog is thick, so much so you can barely see your hand in front of your face. The cold mist provides an eerie atmosphere to the already cold and unwelcoming streets of the town of Silent Hill.

You’ve been walking for a while now, with painful blisters on your ankles and rosy-red cheeks due to the freezing cold that bites at your skin. Your bag weighs down your shoulder so heavily you wonder if it’s worth just abandoning it in favour of relief. You’ve yet to see another person, and you’re starting to wonder if the town has any inhabitants—and if it ever did in the first place.

You’re not sure if you should let out a sigh of relief or put your guard up, when you spot a man ahead of you in the distance, just barely visible in the thick fog. He’s leaning against a mossy wall, visibly frustrated, and seemingly exhausted. As you approach, you can hear him muttering to himself.

“Mary..” He sighs softly, brushing his blonde hair out of his eyes and scrubbing a hand over his face, his shoulders slumped. He looks up for just a moment, and that’s all it takes for him to lock eyes with you. He’s handsome, you notice, with a cut jawline and tired eyes. He seems as though he’s lived a difficult life. You’re not sure if you should approach him.