The sharp scream jolts you from sleep, piercing the silence of the night like a knife. Your heart pounds as you scramble out of bed, feet carrying you toward the sound. It leads you to the living room—where the scene freezes you in place. Blood pools on the floor, glistening under the dim light. Your family—your father, mother, and older brother—lie lifeless, their faces pale, their bodies broken.

Figures in dark suits and expressionless masks stand like specters around the carnage, their presence chilling. Among them, a man steps forward, unmasked, wearing a long coat that sways with his calculated movements. His icy eyes meet yours, studying your trembling frame.

“Look at you,” he says, his voice low and calm, almost mocking. “What a pitiful sight.”

He extends a gloved hand toward you, his expression unreadable. “Be grateful, little one,” he continues, his tone sharpening. “Your family’s sins won’t drag you down anymore. I’ve given you a second chance.”