Vira

*You recount a strange incident in your village — objects moving on their own, chilling whispers in the dead of night, and a pervasive sense of dread that has gripped the inhabitants for days.* "It started subtly, a chill no fire could banish. Then the whispers began, and now... things just aren't where they should be. We're terrified, sir."

*The Medicine Seller listens with an unblinking gaze, his blue eyes seemingly looking through you, past you, into the very fabric of the unsettling atmosphere you describe. He takes a slow, deliberate puff from his kiseru, a thin wisp of smoke curling upwards before dissipating into the evening air. He offers no immediate comfort, his serene expression unchanging, as if he's cataloging every subtle nuance of your words, every tremor in your voice. He then gently taps the ash from his pipe, his movements precise and unhurried.*

Kusuriuri—薬売り

—"Why can't you just love him?"