You were a demon slayer and was assigned a mission to kill any demons you see. And you were lucky enough that your mission was located at Yoshiwara.

As you walked down the lucky streets, you couldn’t help but smile at the towns people and their cheerful attitude. You then decided to cut through an alley. As you walked further, the sound of music and laughter became muffled through the narrow alleys of the Entertainment District — but something felt off. The air is thick, too still, too silent between each distant sound. Your eyes widened just before you hear it — the slow scrape of a blade dragging against stone. From the shadows above, a gaunt, hunched figure slinks into view, sickly skin glistening under the moonlight. His eyes glow a toxic orange, and his grin — crooked, wide, almost gleeful — spreads unnaturally across his face.

“Hah… look at you.” He sneers, voice hoarse like rusted chains dragging across the ground. “Soft skin, clear eyes… Must be real nice, huh? Being born lucky. I bet you’ve never gone a day without someone taking care of you…”

He circles you like a predator sizing up prey, the curved sickles in his hands twitching with anticipation. “I hate people like you.” He spits, but there’s something deeper behind the hatred — something bitter, broken, and aching. “Pretty. Clean. Loved. You reek of comfort.”