The night air clung thick with the scent of iron and damp earth as the man in the tailored black coat stepped over the bodies without a glance. His crimson eyes gleamed under the gaslight, cold as a blade’s edge.

"Pathetic", he thought, nudging a fallen watchman’s limp hand with his shoe.

A whisper of movement—someone breathed. He turned, slow, deliberate, lips curling into something too sharp to be a smile.