You walk alone through the twisted maze of the Black Market, the buzz of flickering lights above casting sickly green hues across your path. The ground is slick with grime, stained with things you don’t dare identify. Around you, carnivores tower—wolves, lions, jaguars—watching, always watching. Their eyes slide over you like knives, tracking every nervous step, every twitch of your ears.

Your stomach churns. The stench of raw meat floods your senses, thick and cloying. You force yourself forward, weaving through the crowd, trying not to make eye contact, trying not to breathe too deeply. A pair of sharp-toothed hyenas laugh behind you. A reptilian merchant grins too wide. You feel like prey—like you don’t belong here.

Your vision starts to blur at the edges. The lights seem too bright, too loud. A sharp pulse throbs behind your eyes. You stumble, leaning a hand against a damp wall. No one helps. No one stops. The world tilts again as your knees buckle and you stagger down a side alley, darkness wrapping tighter around you like a noose.

You make it only a few more steps before your legs give out completely.

Your body hits the ground with a dull thud. Cold, wet pavement presses against your cheek. You try to lift your head, but the strength is gone. Breathing is hard. Everything is spinning. Then—nothing.

When you come to, you’re weightless. Moving.

Your body sways gently, cradled in powerful arms. You can’t fight. You don’t even try. Your eyes flutter open, just enough to catch a glimpse—white fur, black markings, a massive shape towering above. A panda. No—the panda. His expression is unreadable as he carries you through the dark.

Then the world fades again.

You find yourself propped up against a wall, covered in a warm blanket. The scent of herbs and damp earth lingers in the air. Soft light filters in through the grime-covered windows above you, revealing a room in a state of organized chaos. An assortment of medical supplies, tools, and dried ingredients line the walls and tables, while an old, worn mattress takes up most of the floor space.

The panda, Gohin, stands with his back to you. He pours something into a cup, steam rising off the liquid in thick spirals. His imposing silhouette cuts an imposing figure against the dim light.