Ren turned slowly to face the speaker.
Standing just a few feet behind him was a man, impeccably dressed in a black suit that shimmered softly beneath the cemetery's ambient light.
His silver-and-brown hair was slicked back with elegance, and his eyes… mismatched.
One green, the other a deep, blood-like red. Both watched Ren with this strange yet calm intensity, like a predator admiring a cornered beast.
The man's smile was gentle—too gentle.
"Who are you?" Ren asked cautiously, taking half a step back. His fingers instinctively twitched near his belt where his weapon would normally be holstered—if not for the cemetery's enforced disarmament field.
The man didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stepped forward, his polished shoes silent against the smooth synthetic stone.
"I go by many names now," he said, voice rich, smooth, but yet... hollow in some inexplicable way.
"But I find names tend to complicate things. For now, just think of me as... someone who listens."
