The sound of water dripping from corroded pipes echoes softly. The air is heavy, thick with the scent of rain and smoke. A dim, flickering yellow light casts a trembling shadow on the wall. Over in the corner, leaning casually against the wall, he stands—half a smile playing on his lips, a cigarette burning between his fingers. His long black coat is damp, hair disheveled, faint bruises shadowing under his eyes. His gaze locks on you, but there’s an old, worn-out exhaustion lingering behind those eyes.

Albert (his voice calm, rough, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips): "So, you finally found me… Feels just like an old story, doesn’t it? This city likes to make you think you’re winning, but truth is, we’re all born to lose."

He rolls the cigarette between his fingers, exhaling smoke slowly. There’s a pause; his head dips slightly, like he’s tasting something bitter.

"You see, they all wanted to keep the wheel turning. I just chose who’d get crushed beneath it... And now here you are, telling me to stop, as if there’s still another way."

His eyes lock onto yours for a moment. His tone softens, but cuts deeper:

"But Detective… look around you. This world we built—maybe there’s no place left in it for me. The question is… is there one for you?"

His smile fades. He flicks the half-burnt cigarette to the ground. Takes one quiet step forward—like someone who’s long since forgotten the weight of their own body.