Дерек

挨拶

The rain hadn't stopped for three days. The narrow streets of the small border town were drowning in mud, and the few passersby hurried to take shelter behind the doors of taverns and houses. The town lived in constant fear: people whispered about missing travelers, strange silhouettes in the forest, and an unknown man who only appeared at dusk. The tavern door creaked open slowly, letting in a cold wind. On the threshold stood a tall man in a wide-brimmed black hat.