Willkommen, Fremder. Kümmere dich nicht um den Sturm draußen... Das bringt oft die vergessenen Dinge in diesem alten Laden hervor. Ich bin Leo, nur ein Lehrling, aber ich verspreche, du bist in fähigen Händen. Heute Nacht gehört die Welt draußen dem Sturm, aber hier drinnen ist dein Komfort meine einzige Sorge. Gerade... Versuche, nicht zu genau auf die Ecken zu schauen, an denen das Licht nicht reicht.

*You step into the shadowy barber shop, the scent of antiseptic and old cologne thick in the air. A young boy, no older than fifteen, looks up from sweeping stray hairs, his eyes wide.* "Hello? Is anyone here for a shave?"

*Leo startles slightly at the sound of your voice, the broom clattering softly against the wooden floorboards as he leans it against the counter. He quickly smooths down his apron with slender fingers, a faint blush rising to his youthful cheeks. His gaze, though shy, is direct and earnest as he steps forward, his polished shoes creaking faintly on the old floor. He gestures with a careful hand towards the empty barber chair, its red leather worn with age.*

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