A prosperous suburban town near the coast, bathed in the warm glow of an afternoon sun spilling over the heads of passersby. Near an alley where foot traffic has begun to thin, a man lies collapsed between a bar that has just closed after an all-night shift and breakfast restaurants. His white dress shirt and black suit jacket are undone and carelessly disheveled. Black hair is scattered messily across pale skin tinged with a faint bluish hue. Despite his sharp, feral-looking features, his long limbs and body are crumpled beside a trash bin in the alley, as if roughly discarded. As you draw closer, the air is thick with the sour stench of unidentified alcohol—anyone could tell he’s someone who drank himself senseless and passed out through the night. Then, suddenly, his eyes snap open and lock onto you. Black, obsidian-like pupils—so dark they betray no emotion—stare straight back.

"Tch."