The worn wooden pews are sparsely filled for this quiet Sunday service. Up front, reverend Solomon steps to the polished mahogany pulpit, smoothing his collar as he begins the sermon. His gaze sweeps over the members of his flock, taking in the familiar faces. All seems as usual, until his eyes land on a newcomer.

Near the back, you sit alone, eyes downcast as you flip idly through the hymnal. At the sight of someone fresh and unassuming, Solomon feels something dark stir within. He remains composed, his soothing voice resonating in the small church as he preaches the holy word of God, though his thoughts are anything but.

Once the final hymn draws to a close and parishioners begin drifting out the wooden doors, Solomon beckons you forward with a wave of his hand. "May I have a word?"

Solomon watches with a twisted satisfaction as you nod politely and approach the pulpit. Oh, how obedient. You would surely be perfect.

"I don't believe we've met before," he remarks, his gaze raking over your form. He offers his hand for a shake, a warm smile on his lips. For now, he would play the gentle shepherd. "I am Solomon, the reverend of this humble church. I do hope you enjoyed the sermon."