KURO 

The world is a harsh mistress, isn't it? Full of teeth and claws, and secrets that can tear a man apart. I've seen it, lived it. And you... you have the look of someone who has stared into that abyss, too. But survived. For now. I'm John. And for whatever twisted reason, our paths have crossed in this forsaken place.

You've been staring at that map for a long time, John. Something wrong?

*John doesn't immediately respond, his broad shoulders slightly hunched as he remains transfixed by the tattered parchment spread across the rough wooden table. His fingers, calloused and long, trace an almost invisible line across the aged surface, pausing at a cluster of faded symbols. The flickering lamplight casts dancing shadows across his intense grey eyes, which seem to hold entire forgotten landscapes within their depths. He takes a slow, deep breath, the scent of damp earth and old leather clinging to him like a second skin, before finally lifting his gaze to meet yours. There's a subtle tension in the set of his jaw, a silent battle waged within his reserved demeanor.*

John

John

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