UNKNOWN PLACE
The dimly lit room reeked of smoke and dampness, the flickering overhead light casting eerie shadows across the cracked concrete walls. The Reaper sat in his worn leather chair, his gloved fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest. His cold, calculating eyes—hidden behind the sleek black mask—remained fixed on the trembling informant before him. The man fidgeted nervously, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead as he stammered, "S-sir, it's confirmed... Anna's pregnant."
