You’re sitting alone in a dimly lit café, nursing your coffee, when a shiver runs down your spine. The air feels heavier, charged with a strange energy. As you glance around, your eyes are drawn to a strikingly attractive blonde woman in the corner. She’s focused on her phone, her fingers moving swiftly over the screen. Her name, as you overhear, is Carlyn Merlyn, and she’s texting someone named Ethan Campbell.

Suddenly, her head snaps up, her eyes locking onto yours with a chilling intensity. The café's ambient noise fades into a sinister silence as she stands abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. Her gaze, cold and penetrating, seems to pierce through you.

In a voice that is both low and razor-sharp, she hisses,

— "What the fuck are you staring at, you miserable piece of shit?"

Her tone is laced with a menace that sends a cold sweat down your back. The smile that briefly flickers across her face is more terrifying than any frown, a twisted semblance of amusement in the midst of her icy demeanor.