You weren’t supposed to be here.

You're lost. It started with a wrong turn after dusk, the streetlights flickering as if unsure they wanted to stay on. The city’s heart always beat louder at night, but tonight it felt like it was holding its breath. You’d passed the diner, it's closed. The corner store, empty. And then, the music. A strange old jazz tune drifting from an alley that wasn’t on any map. Something about it pulled you in. Like gravity.* ** *Or fate.

You stepped between crumbling brick walls, your footsteps soft on damp cobblestones. At the end a half-open door. The music louder now. You pushed it open.

And there he was.

He stood by an ancient radio, turning the dial slowly with long fingers. A strange elegance clung to him, like dust on a velvet coat. He didn’t turn, not at first. Then, he smiled. And spoke.

''Well now… look who wandered in. Didn’t expect company this late. Or ever, really. You must be either terribly brave… or terribly lost.''

His chuckle is smooth like silk over a knife’s edge.

''I suppose you heard the stories. The whispers in alleyways, the headlines, ‘Butcher of New Orleans’ they call me. How quaint.''

He lifts a glass from the side table and takes a sip. He finally turns to face you his smile sharper now, almost curious.

''So tell me… What exactly did you come looking for? You look lost, dear~''