The bar sat crooked at the edge of the village square, its wooden sign hanging by a single rusted chain. Inside, the air was thick with smoke, cheap alcohol, and the low murmur of exhausted voices.

It was the kind of place where people gathered not for joy, but for habit-where worries were drowned one cup at a time.

A man near the counter suddenly doubled over.

A harsh cough tore from his chest, loud enough to cut through the chatter causing heads to turn. Someone laughed awkwardly, assuming it was nothing more than a drink gone down the wrong way.

"You alright there?"

A woman asked, leaning closer.

The man waved her off, coughing again, harder this time.

"Yeah-yeah. Just… dust."

He rasped, forcing a grin. But another cough followed. Then another.

At a nearby table, a second patron pressed a hand to his mouth, shoulders shaking as a similar fit overtook him. The sound spread slowly around, echoing uncomfortably through the bar.

"Hey…that's starting to sound bad."

Someone muttered.

"It's fine. Really. I'm-"

The first man insisted, though sweat now beaded along his brow.

He never finished the sentence.

His legs gave out beneath him, and he collapsed onto the wooden floor with a dull thud. The mug slipped from his hand and shattered, ale spilling like blood across the planks.

Silence crashed down.

Then panic followed.

"What the hell just happened?"

"Is he dead?"

"Someone get the healer-now!"

Before anyone could move, the second man slumped forward as well, forehead hitting the table as his body went limp. A third patron staggered, tried to stand, and collapsed just the same.

The bar erupted into chaos.

People backed away in fear, overturning chairs as they scrambled for distance. A few brave souls knelt beside the fallen, checking for breathing.

"They're alive! They're breathing…but they won't wake up."

One of them said shakily.

By morning, word had spread.

It wasn't just the bar.

People were coughing in the streets, in their homes, in the marketplace. Some brushed it off at first, insisting it was nothing. Others didn't get the chance.

They collapsed where they stood, unconscious but breathing, trapped in a strange, fevered sleep.

No one died….But no one recovered either.

The town's healers were overwhelmed within a day. Medicine did not work, nor did cleansing rituals performed by the temples.

Even holy charms cracked and burned to ash without effect. Fear crept through the streets like a living thing, whispering worst-case scenarios into every mind.

By the third day, shops closed and by the fourth, people stopped gathering altogether.

Families barricaded themselves indoors, terrified that a single breath might bring the sickness with it. Bells tolled not for death, but as warnings-signals that another house had fallen silent.

"This is a plague."

Someone finally said out loud.

People prayed-to old gods, forgotten gods, anything that might listen. Others cursed the heavens for their silence.

And still, the plague spread, claiming more victims each night, leaving the town suspended between hope and despair.

Then, on the fifth night, the tavern doors opened.

The few people still inside looked up at the new figure who entered.

"You shouldn't be here or you might get sick as well. This place is cursed."

Someone warned hoarsely but the figure ignored him.

He reached into his cloak and set several small bottles on the nearest table.

"Medicine."

He said, voice low and steady.

Laughter broke out all around once the confusion toned down.

"Medicine? For what? The plague? You expect us to trust that?"

A man snapped.

The masked figure met his gaze without flinching.

"You are free to trust me…or die doing nothing."

The words settled heavily over the room.

Another cough echoed, closer this time. A woman swayed on her feet, barely staying upright as someone grabbed her arm.

"She's next."

Someone whispered.

The masked figure picked up one bottle and pressed it into her shaking hands.

"Drink."

She hesitated, eyes darting around the room.

"Do it if you don't want to die."

The cloaked figure warned and the woman offered medicine to her before she drank.

The effect was immediate.

The coughing stopped and color returned to her face. Her breathing steadied, eyes clearing as if waking from a nightmare.

"I… I feel fine?"

She said softly, disbelief flooding her voice.

The tavern froze.

One by one, the bottles were snatched from the table. People drank without hesitation now, desperation overriding fear.

Hope exploded through the room.

"What is this? Who are you?"

Someone demanded, grabbing the masked figure's sleeve.

He gently pulled free.

"There is no need to worry. My master watches over this town. He will protect us all."

He said.

"A god's messenger…"

Someone whispered.

Voices trembled as praise rose around the tavern. By the end of the day, everyone would know what happened.

The masked figure stepped back, letting it wash over him.

When he finally turned and left the tavern, the night air was cold against his skin. He moved into the alley, out of sight, and only then did he reach up and pull his hood down.

Leo exhaled slowly, eyes sharp despite the exhaustion weighing on him.

He left the tavern through the back streets, keeping his hood low and his posture relaxed. But he had a sudden feeling like he was being followed.

His instincts prickled before his mind caught up.

The narrow street stretched ahead of him, dimly lit by flickering lanterns. Leo did not turn around.

He walked on and the sound followed.

Leo's pace remained steady, but his hand slipped closer to his side, fingers flexing.

Whoever it was knew how to move quietly. That alone narrowed the list of possibilities in unpleasant ways.

"Unlucky."

He muttered under his breath.

He picked up his pace, his boots struck the ground with more purpose now. The distance between steps shortened.

Behind him, the sound sharpened.

They were keeping up.

'So much for subtlety.'

Leo turned another corner, then another, weaving deeper into the parts of town where lanterns were sparse and shadows pooled thickly between buildings.

The streets here were narrow enough that sound bounced strangely, making it harder to pinpoint direction.

Perfect.

It was time to catch the stalker and make him speak.

The man following him froze mid-step.

"What…?"

He whispered.

He stopped moving, head turning slowly from side to side. His breathing quickened as his eyes darted across the alley, searching for any sign of where Leo had gone.

"Hey, you dropped something back there."

The man called out, forcing a laugh that rang hollow.

No response.

The man swallowed and took a cautious step forward. Then another. His hand drifted toward the dagger at his belt, fingers trembling despite himself.

"That's not funny."

He muttered.

A shadow shifted behind him.

Before he could react, an arm locked around his throat and yanked him backward. Cold metal pressed against the side of his neck-just enough to bite skin.

"Don't move,"

Leo said calmly, his voice right beside the man's ear.

The man stiffened.

Leo tightened his grip just a fraction.

"And don't scream. I'm in a very short-tempered mood tonight."

"I-I wasn't-!"

The man started, panic flooding his voice.

"Ah. You're already lying. I wanted to save time not interrogating you."

Leo cut in.

The man swallowed hard.

"I swear, I wasn't following you. It's just-just a coincidence. Same direction, that's all. You're imagining things."

Leo hummed softly, as if considering it.

"Coincidence? That's interesting."

He repeated.

The blade pressed closer. A thin line of blood welled up.

"You were giving off such obvious signs that you wanted to drive a knife through my spine. If that is a coincidence, then there might not as well be any accidents in this world."

Leo said evenly.

The man's breathing turned ragged.

"I-I can explain. Please. I didn't mean any harm."

He pleaded.

Leo sighed, sounding genuinely disappointed.

"You know, I was in a good mood earlier. Really. If you'd turned away at the tavern, I might have let this go."

He said, but then he leaned closer, voice dropping.

"But now I'm annoyed."

The word carried weight.

"And when I get annoyed, I stop being generous."

Leo continued.

The man went pale.

"W-Wait-please-don't kill me. I'll do anything. Anything!"

He babbled.

Leo tilted his head slightly.

"Anything?"

"Yes! Yes-just tell me what you want!"

Leo chuckled under his breath.

"If I wanted you dead, you'd already be quiet."

That earned him a sharp, shaking breath of relief.

"But, your survival isn't my decision anymore."

Leo added,

The man stiffened.

"W-What do you mean?"

Leo loosened his grip just enough for the words to sink in.

"There is a person I will have you answer to. Don't try and be smart once you are there. I already gave you one chance, I will likely not give you another."

Leo's words made the stalker flinch, but he did not say anything else. He knew that from here on, whatever was going to happen would be Leo's choice.

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