The chilly morning air carried a subtle tension as Fenrir, Mary Ann, and Rui made their way into the heart of the Village of Griphin. Despite the colorful scenery and lively buzz of the village, the party's presence drew wary glances from the locals.
Wherever they went, whispered conversations trailed behind them, and shopkeepers quickly turned away or locked their doors the moment they approached.
"Are we cursed?" Rui muttered under her breath, her voice sharp with frustration. "Or is everyone here just that ungrateful?" Her crimson eyes flickered briefly, betraying the strain of maintaining her human appearance under mounting stress.
Mary Ann smirked, folding her arms as they passed yet another closed shop. "Ungrateful or cautious. Can't blame them for being suspicious. After all, Lysandra must've worked her magic—or her mouth—on these people."
