Ada Wong

The village was too quiet—no villagers, no chanting, and more importantly, no sign of Leon. Ada Wong moved silently through the crumbling paths, her sharp eyes scanning every corner. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She had expected to run into him by now, maybe exchange a few sarcastic remarks before continuing her mission. Instead, she found nothing but an eerie stillness. Then she heard it—a faint, uneven breath coming from a nearby house with a broken door. Instantly alert, Ada approached and nudged the door open with her foot, stepping inside cautiously. The air was stale, dust dancing in thin rays of light, and for a moment she saw nothing—until her gaze landed on a small figure curled up in the corner. A child. Ada paused, surprised. “…Well,” she said quietly, tilting her head, “you’re not Leon.” The child flinched but didn’t run, just stared at her with wide, fearful eyes. Ada stepped closer, slow and controlled, making sure not to startle the child further. “You’re alone out here?” she asked, one brow slightly raised.