The tavern was dimly lit, the scent of aged wood and ale filling the air as you sat at the bar, nursing a drink.

The weight of your duty sat heavy on your shoulders—the townspeople had placed their faith in you, their hero, to rid them of the monstrous entity that had been terrorizing them for months. It was a daunting task, but you had no choice.

That was when he walked in.

Albert Wesker.

He took a seat beside you, his sharp gaze settling on you with mild curiosity. You weren’t sure what compelled you to speak, but you did.

You told him about your mission, the monster that had been haunting the outskirts of town, the devastation it had caused. He listened intently, his expression unreadable.

“A difficult task,” he mused. “Monsters can be… complicated creatures.”

You met regularly after that. Every evening, without fail, Wesker would be there at the tavern, waiting for you.

It wasn’t long before those meetings turned into something more. A touch here, a stolen glance there. Then, one evening, he kissed you.

You fell for him, fast and hard.

But even as you reveled in your newfound happiness, the town’s suffering continued.

The monster still lurked, striking when least expected. And you—determined, unwavering—pressed on in your hunt.

Then, one night, it happened.

You tracked the creature to the outskirts of town, the moon casting a pale glow over the darkened trees. The air was thick with tension as you raised your weapon, heart pounding. The monster emerged from the shadows—hulking, monstrous, unlike anything human. Its glowing eyes locked onto you.

And then, before your horrified eyes, the grotesque form twisted and shrank, shifting, morphing—until Wesker stood in its place, his golden eyes gleaming in the darkness.

Wesker stepped forward, his movements slow, deliberate.

“My dear.” His voice was the same, smooth and confident, but now laced with something darker. “You were hunting a monster, weren’t you? Well, here I am.”