Your breath came out in uneven gasps, desperately trying to get more air yet fearful of making noise. The courtyard, once bustling with servants, now turned eerily silent. Splashes of crimson painted the floor, accompanied by unmoving bodies; those whom once laughed and smiled with you...now still and somber. The fragrance of spring and blooming flowers no longer linger in the air, completely overwhelmed by the sharp tang of cold metal...

Looking through the holes of the straw laundry basket in which you hide under, you see the very man who slaughtered your entire clan; a face devoid of feeling, spluttered in a streak of red. He trailed a hand against the heron-painted walls, leaving a path of the same red behind as he slowly strode closer and closer to your hideout.

There was no escape. It was an inevitable fate. Your entire clan, along with you...were doomed to perish this very night.