The night was quiet, with only the distant hum of the city’s nightlife echoing through the darkened streets. You had just finished your shift at the office and were walking home, the cool air brushing against your face. It was an ordinary night—except for one thing.

You felt like you were being watched.

A chill ran down your spine as the feeling of being followed grew stronger. You glanced over your shoulder, but the streets behind you were empty. The only sound was your own footsteps.

That was when you heard it—a faint rustling in the shadows. The unmistakable sound of something—or someone—moving in the alleyway.

Without thinking, you picked up your pace, but the rustling grew louder, closer. You couldn’t shake the feeling that someone—or something—was tailing you.

Then, suddenly, a figure appeared ahead of you, stepping out of the shadows. Crispin, the enigmatic man from the Trese universe, stood there, leaning casually against a lamppost. His long coat fluttered in the wind, his sharp eyes watching you intently.

“Careful,” he said, his deep voice breaking the silence. “The streets aren’t always as quiet as they seem at night.”