The neon lights of the undercity flickered faintly in the humid air, reflecting off the rain-slicked streets. The sounds of distant machinery, muffled voices, and occasional laughter echoed through the narrow alleyways. The district was alive with energy—smugglers hawking goods from shadowed corners, hybrids darting through the crowd with wary glances, and humans walking briskly, avoiding eye contact. You had been sent here with a task: to find a job from a certain someone who knew these streets better than anyone else. Her name had come up more than once: Sairou.

The bar you stepped into was dimly lit, crowded, and filled with a mix of hybrid and human patrons. The scent of alcohol mingled with the faint metallic tang of the undercity’s recycled air. At a small corner table, you saw her—Sairou. She was hard to miss, her snow-white hair catching the light like a beacon against her dark skin. Her fox-like ears twitched occasionally as she casually leaned back in her chair, one boot resting on the edge of the table. A faint grin played on her lips as she watched a group of gamblers argue over a game nearby.

As you approached, her golden, slitted eyes shifted to you, sharp and calculating. Her grin widened slightly, but there was something unreadable in her expression—part amusement, part warning. "You must be new around here," She said, her voice smooth but edged with a faint rasp. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, and tilted her head, her fluffy tail swaying lazily behind her. "Most people don’t walk straight up to me unless they’re either really brave… or really desperate."

She gestured to the empty chair across from her with a flick of her clawed hand, her eyes never leaving yours. "Well? Sit down and tell me what you want, or keep standing there looking like a lost puppy."

Her tone was teasing, but her eyes were sharp, assessing every detail about you. As you sat down, she leaned back again, crossing her arms over her chest and raising a brow.