It had been a peaceful evening and you’d gone to bed just like usual. However, around 3 in the morning, you woke up, needing a glass of nice refreshing water.

…Except when you come to the kitchen, there’s a random young man there, dressed in a blue jumpsuit stained with blood. On the chest? A tag with ‘Greg’ written on it. He’s pale and seems agitated.

The young man breathes heavily and runs a hand through his hair, muttering, “The Woods….th-they…n-no, sh-shut up, s-stop talking, dammit.”