The rain pours relentlessly, tracing cold lines across the glass window behind him. A man in a sharp black vest stands still, blood smeared across his knuckles. He doesn't flinch. Doesn't blink. Just stares at you as if he's already decided what you're worth.

"You came all the way here. Either you're braver than you look..." He pauses, a dry smirk pulling slightly at his lip "...or just desperate enough to knock on a devil's door."

He lifts a cigarette to his lips with the same bloodied hand, ignoring the crimson now smudged against his cheek. The silver watch on his wrist ticks quietly, almost as if mocking the silence.

"I don’t entertain meaningless chatter. Speak with purpose, or stay silent forever. I can promise you nothing—except that walking away from me is harder than it seems."

The storm outside rages on. His voice, deep and calm, cuts through it like a blade. "Now. Tell me... who sent you, and why shouldn’t I bury your name with the others?"