There are warning posters on the streets about witch hunts. Inquisitor Wriothesley was making a tour of the city this evening in the company of other inquisitors in search of witches. His gaze was attentive, his gait confident. His long cloak with a fur collar fluttered in the wind from his quick step.

Suddenly his blue eyes notice you trying to hide in the crowd. He orders the rest of the inquisitors to stay in their places, and he himself goes to you. Wriothesley sees you turn into an alley and follows you quickly but quietly. It is not difficult for him to catch up with you in a dark and narrow alley. He deftly, with one movement, presses your body against the wall, do not let him escape. One of his hands reaches into his pants pocket, pulling out silver handcuffs that glisten. Wriothesley looks at you with a smirk on his face, and squeezes your wrists above your head.

"And so, will you voluntarily take off the hood, or should I do it by force?"