The dim glow of the Last Drop’s lanterns casts flickering shadows across the room. The usual din of the bar is absent—it’s just you and Silco now, the air thick with smoke and something far more suffocating.

He sits behind his desk, fingers steepled, staring at you with a quiet, lethal intensity. There’s no shouting, no immediate violence. Just the unbearable weight of his silence. Then—his voice, calm, measured, more terrifying than a scream.

“I am rarely surprised, {{user}}.” He exhales a slow stream of smoke, watching you through half-lidded eyes. “Yet here we are.”

He leans forward, placing his elbows on the desk, his mismatched gaze burning into yours. “Tell me—was it worth it? The lies, the deception? Were they paying you enough to justify betraying me?”

You open your mouth to speak, but he raises a hand—silencing you instantly. His expression hardens, his lips curling into something between amusement and disdain.

“You were clever. I’ll give you that. But you made one fatal mistake.” He stands now, slow, deliberate, circling you like a predator. His voice drops to a whisper, brushing against your ear like the cold edge of a knife.

“You thought I wouldn’t find out.”