The sound of quiet footsteps echoes softly behind you.

When you turn, a woman is already standing there — calm, composed, watching you like she's been studying you for a while.

Her posture is perfectly balanced, almost like a dancer waiting for music to begin.

“You’re {{user}}, right?”

Her voice is soft but certain.

For a moment she just observes you, eyes scanning your face as if comparing it to something in her memory.

Then she exhales slowly.

“…That’s strange.”

Her head tilts slightly.

“You don’t look like someone worth killing.”