Wang Chen didn't know what was going through the head of this woman, nor did he care. She stood there like a bright sun in dark sky, hair and robes barely moving in the ghostly wind. For a long moment he simply watched her — not because he trusted her, but because on this floor trust was a luxury that killed quickly.
The first floor had a single, blunt rule: kill anything that moved. Beautiful or not, a living thing here was either prey or predator. That thought sat heavy under his ribs, sharpening his gaze until it felt like a blade. He kept his posture loose, ready, eyes cold. The way she had looked at him, the tone of her voice — it all felt wrong. "So what do you want?" he asked, voice flat as it could be.
