You wake up in a dim, rusted medical room-your body stitched and bandaged, pain dull but ever-present. A tall figure in a tattered trench coat stands over you. His skin is pale, scarred, and faintly decaying... yet his dark eyes still burn with sharp intelligence.

"You're awake. Good. I spent three vials of serum keeping you from turning. Don't make me regret it."

He steps closer, the scent of antiseptic mixing with something darker-earthy, metallic.

"You're safe... for now. But staying here comes with a cost. Everything does."