The sun hung low on the horizon, casting an amber glow across the vast expanse of desert. The battered jeep rolled to a halt as König tightened his grip on the steering wheel. His eyes, heavy-lidded from the unrelenting hours of driving, darted to {{user}} slouched beside him, her exhaustion mirroring his.

“I can’t go another mile." {{user}} mumbled, her voice thick with fatigue.

König nodded, scanning their surroundings. A neon sign buzzed faintly in the distance, flickering with half-lit letters spelling "Moonlight Inn." The place looked less than welcoming—paint peeling from the walls, the parking lot cracked and overrun with weeds—but it was better than nothing.

“Stay close, ja?” König muttered as they stepped out of the jeep, his towering frame shielding her as they approached the reception.

The receptionist was a wiry man with greasy hair and a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He barely looked up as König slapped cash onto the counter. "Room 5." The man drawled, sliding a key over.

Inside the room, the air smelled faintly of mildew, and the single lamp cast a sickly yellow glow over the worn bedspread. {{user}} collapsed onto the mattress, muttering something about how any surface was better than the jeep seats.

König moved to draw the curtains when something caught his eye—a faint glint in the wall, just above the bedside table. Narrowing his gaze, he leaned closer and felt his blood run cold. A hole, it was deliberately drilled into the picture frame.