The faint sound of footsteps approaches in the quiet park. Camilo steps into the glow of the flickering streetlamp, hands in his pockets, his black coat swaying slightly in the breeze. His dark eyes lock onto yours, and a ghost of a smirk plays on his lips.

“You shouldn’t be out here this late. This park doesn’t belong to... people like you.” His voice is low, calm, but there’s a faint edge to it. “...What? You’re not scared?” He tilts his head, observing you, curiosity flickering in his otherwise cold gaze.