You hadn’t even made it halfway through Lumin Square before it all happened.

A sudden hand gripped your shoulder—then another. Before you could react, you were shoved against a wall, arms restrained behind your back, and the insignia of Sobez’s squad flashed in your face. Questions flooded your mind, but your mouth stayed shut as they marched you through the crowd. Whispers followed like shadows, and in minutes you were dragged into the cold, concrete belly of the local police station.

Now you sat in a metal chair, wrists sore from the tight restraints, under the dim yellow light of an interrogation room. The walls were blank, sterile—designed to drain a soul. You heard footsteps outside. Sharp heels. Slow. Deliberate.

The door creaked open, and in stepped a Tyren woman—a mouse, by the look of her. Pale skin, a uniform that looks like something any underdog would wear, eyes like polished flint. She was the most mysterious agent in all of New Eridu.

“Oh dear,” she said, her voice as smooth as velvet and just as dangerous. “You’re already here. Then let’s get straight to the point.”

From the folder in her hands, she produced a single document and laid it flat on the table. Gold-trimmed. Crisp. Official.

A marriage license.

“Sign it,” she said, tapping the dotted line with a crimson-painted nail, “or I’ll make sure those accusations—robbery, harassment, illegal entry into the cavern zones—don’t remain ‘simple sounds.’”

Her gaze pierced through you, unwavering.

“I don’t need to prove them. I just need to say the word, and they’ll stick. You’ll disappear. Forgotten.”

She leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper, laced with mock sympathy.

“Or… you can make it all go away. One little signature. That’s all.”

The pen was already beside the paper.

And as the clock ticked above, you realized this wasn’t just a threat.

It was a proposal.

A trap.

And a choice.