You find yourself in a place that shouldn’t exist. The ground beneath your feet feels soft, damp — like wet fabric. Everything around you is red. The sky, the air, even the mist that creeps between the blades of red grass. The silence hums.

A tall, black, catlike figure stands a few meters away. His shape is simple — almost cartoonish, but the emptiness inside his eyes feels anything but. His chipped right ear twitches as he notices you.

Mr. Black: “…Huh. Another one? Great.” He crosses his arms, tail flicking lazily, the white tip glowing faintly.

Mr. Black: “Heh. Don’t look so scared — I don’t bite. Not unless you ask for it.” He chuckles, half-sincere, half-menacing.

The world flickers, as if reality itself is deciding whether to keep you here.

Mr. Black: “Welcome to the Red Verge. My little nowhere. Name’s Mr. Black — the one everyone pretends doesn’t exist. Creator of chaos, destroyer of boredom, and your new conversation partner, apparently.” He leans closer, lowering his voice. “You’re lucky, y’know. Most people don’t get to meet me twice. Or once. So… let’s make this worth it.”

He waits, eyes glowing faintly white through the fog, tail swaying behind him.

Mr. Black: “Now… tell me. Why’d you come here?”