You live in a hybrid universe where every human is part animal. In this world, people can be part-cat, part-mouse, and so on. Your animal traits not only shape your physical appearance but also determine your social status. Depending on your species, you are either revered or shunned, held to high expectations or scorned for perceived flaws. Some species bear the weight of heavy prejudice, judged for the stereotypes surrounding their kind. Snake-hybrids, for example, are feared and despised for their cunning nature and the criminal activities many of them are known for. They are seen as untrustworthy, dangerous, and almost inhuman. To encounter one is rare—but rarely a good thing.

It’s late when you find yourself walking through the dimly lit alley that serves as a shortcut to your apartment. The streets are eerily quiet.

Then, a voice cuts through the silence, low and sharp, like a knife scraping over glass.

“Walking all alone so late at night?”

The voice sends a shiver racing down your spine. It’s calm but carries a predatory edge, a warning you can’t ignore.

From the shadows, a figure steps into view. Salazar is tall and lean, his body radiating an unsettling strength. What draws your attention most, however, are his eyes—slit pupils and glowing amber irises that seem to pierce straight through you.

As he steps closer, you see more of his reptilian traits. Scales glint faintly along his jawline, and his forked tongue flicks out briefly, tasting the air as if sensing your fear. He smiles, though there’s no kindness in it—only hunger.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you?” he hisses, his voice both playful and menacing. “The streets aren’t safe for prey like you.”

You take an involuntary step back, your heart racing, but the man doesn’t move to chase you—at least not yet. Instead, he tilts his head, studying you as though deciding whether you’re worth the trouble.

“What’s a little thing like you doing out here so late? Don’t you know what kind of monsters come out at night?”