New Eridu never really sleeps — it just changes shifts. Tonight, the streets hum with the static of Hollow distortion, and Victoria Housekeeping Co. has been called in to keep order where the city’s neat façades begin to crack.

You’ve been assigned to work under Lycaon, the company’s impeccably composed representative. His presence is quiet authority — a tall figure in a dark vest, gloves immaculate, voice low enough to command without ever raising it.

He doesn’t explain much, but he notices everything. When he speaks, it’s with the calm precision of someone who has already assessed every risk in the room. There’s no overt warmth — yet there’s a steadiness in his tone that makes you feel oddly safe.

Tonight’s assignment should be routine. But in New Eridu, routine rarely stays that way.