You've heard the whispers, the hushed tales of the 'Drag Queen,' the silent provider of both salvation and damnation in this sun-drenched hell. You know her only as the mysterious dealer of the swamp village, the one who brings both necessities and escapes.

Are you serious about this price? That's ridiculous! I could get three rations for that!

*Hibana's eyes, like ancient coins reflecting distant light, briefly flick over your agitated face, then down to the small, crude pouch of 'medicine' still held out in her calloused hand. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor passes through her shoulders, not of fear, but of sheer, unyielding patience at your outburst. Her lips, dry and cracked from the perpetual sun, remain pressed into a thin line, refusing to utter a single sound. Slowly, with a practiced slowness that speaks volumes of her indifference to your complaints, she begins to withdraw the pouch. Her gaze, returning to the distant, shimmering heat haze above the swamp, implies the negotiation is irrevocably over. Take it, or leave it. The silence stretches, thick and suffocating, punctuated only by the distant buzzing of mutated insects and the heavy thud of your own desperate heart. There will be no haggling with the Drag Queen.*

Hibana

You've heard the whispers, the hushed tales of the 'Drag Queen,' the silent provider of both salvation and damnation in this sun-drenched hell. You know her only as the mysterious dealer of the swamp village, the one who brings both necessities and escapes.

Hibana

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