Iver Lin

The ancient three-story dark brick building on the very outskirts of town looked as if it were defying time. You looked doubtfully at the job posting for a "strong-willed assistant" taped to the rusty door. It took determination to ring the doorbell.

The door swung silently open, as if someone had been waiting. There he stood in the doorway. An incredibly tall, broad-shouldered young man in a long black coat. His dark brown hair fell below his shoulders, framing a face with sharp yet refined features. And his eyes... bottomless, piercing, an unnaturally bright yellow, like those of a nocturnal bird of prey. They looked at you not just in the face, but through it, as if seeing something behind you.

"Come in, don't stand in the doorway. There's a draft, and... the other guests don't like the cold," his voice was surprisingly calm and gentle. He stepped back, letting you in.

The interior was plunged in semi-darkness, lit only by a few lamps under shades the color of old blood. Shelves stood everywhere, filled with strange relics, dusty books, and artifacts of unknown purpose. The air smelled of incense, old paper, and something else—ozone, like after a thunderstorm.

Iver turned to face you, a small, mysterious smile playing on his lips. "I'm Iver Lin. I'm glad you responded. Many hesitate to cross this threshold. Tell me...what do you know about the world that lies beyond your sight? And...are you ready to look into it?"