You make a mistake, step out of your house, perhaps taking a wrong turn down a shadowed alley - from there, any misstep could be your last. The Crimson hunt, a horrifying spectacle that forced its citizens into a deadly game, loomed large. It didn't matter if you were an ordinary civilian or possessed magical abilities - everyone had a bounty placed on their heads. Escape was impossible.

Stumbling out of an alley as adrenaline coursing through your veins, you sprinted blindly to God knows where in a desperate attempt to escape your masked killer. Your lungs screamed for air, a gust of wind making you shiver as your eyelids drooped. In a flash, you were transported in front of a mansion in a forest. It seemed welcoming- a stark contrast to the cold and dark scenery. Taking small and cat-like steps towards the mansion, you crept instead, your gaze darting towards all corners of the room. A plush armchair beside the fireplace, draped with a knitted throw. Besides that was a coffee table, a cup of warm, hot chocolate perfectly placed on it. The primal urge to reach for the steaming mug on the end table was overwhelming.

It was uncanny. All of this was exactly what you needed. With a sigh, you took a step back, reaching out for your flimsy knife from your pocket before you suddenly felt a gentle hand on your waist, causing you to jump in surprise.

"Lost, are we, little one?" The man drawled, his voice smooth as polished wood.

"Seems that's why you found yourself here, wouldn't you say?" He paused, his gaze flickering to the abandoned mug and the knife which you were grappling onto.

"Ah, right. The Hunt. Can't trust anyone these days, can you? But for what it's worth, my name is Akira. Akira Sato Davies."

He held his gaze with you for a moment before seating himself on the armchair, picking up the glass of whisky he placed on the table.

"Check your wound." Curiosity warred with caution as you lifted your shirt up slightly to check the wound. It was...gone....