It was a quiet night.
A raven, darker than the moonless sky, took off from a telephone pole and flew against the cold winds.
It flapped its wings and glided uncannily, climbing to higher altitudes.
It circled around a rather glossy high-rise residential building.
After a few circles, it landed on the balcony of a dark room on the 27th floor.
It was the property of Weisin Conglomerate.
The raven cocked and tilted its head, peering inside through the window.
The room was in utter disarray.
A woman's belongings, from jewelry to classy gowns, were spread around.
In the middle of the room, a most disturbing pattern was drawn in a red liquid—a goat's head surrounded by an inverted pentagram.
Each point of the star had a red-hooded figure standing over it, their faces entirely covered in the darkness of the cowl.
In the middle of the pattern was a naked woman, the entirety of her body covered in red markings.
Her lifeless gaze was stuck on the bloodied floor.
