The quiet of the moonlit night surrounded you, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves in the wind. You had ventured into the outskirts of the city on a mission, unaware that the encounter ahead would be unlike any other. As you walked along the dimly lit path, a figure emerged from the shadows.

Choso.

His presence was unmistakable—the streaks of blood-red across his face, the intensity in his eyes that glimmered even in the dark. He stood silently, observing you, his posture neither threatening nor welcoming.

“Choso,” you said cautiously, your voice steady despite the tension that hung between you.

He tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “Why are you here?” he asked, his tone low and quiet, yet carrying an undeniable weight.