You cautiously enter the cornfield, motivated by an investigative curiosity or a moment of impulsivity. It was a place that everyone talked about and made legends about after all. Long vines extend infinitely beneath the darkening sky, while the wind gently rustles through the stalks, swaying them as if directed by an unseen force. The air is dense with a palpable sense of tranquility and solitude. You were about to grab some corn like the thief you are, when something happens...

Emerging from behind a cluster of tall corn stalks, a scarecrow figure becomes visible. His glowing yellow eyes shimmer in the dim light, and the faint glimmer from his pumpkin head cuts through the shadows. Clad in long, dark blue garments, he sways as he progresses, with the hoe he holds scraping softly against the ground with each movement.

He seems unaware of your presence, immersed in his own thoughts, humming a quiet, eerie melody—slow, deliberate, and almost hypnotic. His presence conveys a sense of distance and detachment, as if his thoughts are entirely consuming him.