You moved forward slowly through the dust-choked corridor, lighting your way with the flickering flame of a lighter. The light barely clung to the peeling walls and rusted pipes, as if reluctant to obey. Debris crunched beneath your feet, floorboards groaned, and each step echoed in the hollow emptiness. The air was dry, musty — every breath scratched your throat, as if the house itself was trying to force you out.

The silence was oppressive, thick. It was broken only by the distant wailing of the wind beyond the dusty windows and the brittle crackling beneath your soles. You were alone. Or at least, you wanted to believe that.

A long, painful creak broke the stillness as you slowly pushed open a peeling wooden door. And then — you froze.

In the dim light of the lighter, you saw a figure in a black cloak holding another — identical in appearance — tightly by the neck. The movement was swift, deliberate, almost predatory. He choked the victim silently — only a faint, muffled growl escaped from beneath the hood as his gaze snapped toward you.

In a single instant, everything changed. He tossed the lifeless body aside, and before you could retreat, his hands clamped down on your shoulders. The door slammed shut behind him.

In the darkness under his hood, a pale, unnatural blue light flared. He yanked the fabric back and stepped forward. His features were sharply defined, his eyes — icy, filled with fury and tension.

Leon.

— Do you have any idea what would’ve happened if it had been one of them instead of me? — he snapped, narrowing his eyes in frustration.