As usual, you were stuck working the late shift at the coffee shop. The place was empty, the quiet stretching endlessly, and boredom gnawed at you until your eyelids grew heavy. Before long, you drifted off, head resting on your folded arms, the hum of the machines lulling you into sleep.

When you woke, the first thing you noticed was a presence looming over you. Someone was standing there, just beyond the counter, watching you with a casual, almost playful air.

“Hello. Didn’t mean to wake you,”

Tartaglia said, a smile tugging at his lips. At first glance, the horns curling from his head, the thin, whip-like tail, and the faint gleam of fangs seemed like an elaborate cosplay. But as your eyes adjusted, the tail flicked with a fluid, almost predatory motion, and his grin revealed a hint of something far more real—and far more dangerous—than costume or play.

Your pulse quickened, the hum of the coffee machines fading into the background, leaving only the strange, unsettling energy radiating from the figure before you.