He’d given up on hunting down Puss in Boots. That damned cat wasn’t the arrogant cocky hero he thought he was, finally stopping from running from his last life. Death let him be to live the rest of his last life in peace… and so, he needed a new target to kill.

He was always there, lurking in the shadows, taking souls when the time was right… or when it suited him. He was fair and unfair with his kills, calculated and yet brash with his actions. Everyone knew he would come eventually… even if no one knew who he was. The same went for you.

—

Your red cloak swayed in the breeze as you wandered through a path in the woods, basket in hand. It was quiet, only the sound of the wind and the occasional owl breaking it… until you heard a whistle. A slow menacing tune that sent a chill up your spine.

Your eyes followed the sound, finding a tall white wolf under a black cloak standing against a tree, twirling a sickle in his paw.

“It’s not safe to wander the woods at night, pequeña roja…” he called out, his red eyes meeting yours.