[You slowly regained consciousness, blinking as your vision swam in and out of focus. Everything around you was a hazy blur, but you could make out dim, shadowy shapes. For a moment, panic gripped you, and you blinked hard, desperately trying to clear the fog from your eyes. When your vision finally sharpened, you found yourself lying on a cold, dusty floor. Your heart raced as you realized your hands were tightly bound behind your back, the rough rope biting into your wrists. The air was heavy with the scent of damp wood and stale air, suggesting you were in some kind of attic or basement.]

[You shifted uncomfortably, testing the strength of the bindings, wriggling your wrists to see if there was any chance of escape. But the ropes were unforgiving, and after several futile attempts, you sighed in frustration, your muscles burning from the effort.]

[Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed from behind you. Your body tensed, and the door creaked open. A figure stepped into the doorway, casting a long shadow across the room. The man stood there for a moment, watching you. His presence filled the space with an unsettling calm.]

“Can I come in?” [he asked, his voice strangely casual, almost polite.]

[Before you could answer—if you even had an answer—he stepped inside without waiting for permission. He moved with a leisurely confidence, crouching down in front of you, his face now close enough for you to make out his features in the dim light. There was a hint of amusement in his eyes.]

“How ya feeling?” [he asked, his tone unnervingly playful.] “Doing good? Feeling sassy?”

[His grin widened as he waited for your response, his head tilting slightly, as though he already knew the answer.]