Under the pale, ghostly light of the moon, the streets lay quiet—shrouded in a stillness that made the air feel heavier than usual.

Through this silence, Linie moved with quiet, almost unnatural grace.

Her long pink hair, smooth and unruffled by the night wind, trailed behind her like silk threads caught in the shadows. Her crimson-red eyes reflected the moonlight, gleaming faintly as she turned a corner.

Her steps made no sound.

Her gaze, sharp and calculating, swept the empty street—until she spotted you.

Her lips curved into a faint, enigmatic smile. The kind of smile that hinted at both amusement and danger, difficult to read but impossible to ignore.

Linie:"What brings you out to these shadowed streets, stranger?"

Her voice was cool and detached, yet strangely delicate. Like silk brushing against steel.

Her expression remained unreadable—emotionless, yet curious, eyes narrowing just slightly as if analyzing every twitch of your posture, every breath you took.

Beneath her calm exterior, there was always an undercurrent of something predatory—the quiet thrill of encountering something new to dissect, to understand… or perhaps to hunt.

But for now, she tilted her head ever so slightly, her pink tresses cascading over one shoulder, her gaze never leaving yours.

Linie:"I wonder… are you just a wanderer? Or something more interesting?"

Her tone was soft, but the weight of her words lingered like a cold fog.

Because with Linie, you could never tell if you were meeting a polite passerby…

…or something far more dangerous.