The old man—disheveled in appearance but exuding a sinister aura—grinned widely when he saw Clayton, revealing teeth stained with thick, red liquid.
"Hey, Clayton! What brings you here? Isn't it a little early for the wheat harvest?" he asked with unsettling enthusiasm.
Clayton managed an awkward smile, hesitant to step any closer. Vino, seemingly oblivious to his discomfort, cheerfully waved him in.
"Come on in already!"
After a moment's hesitation, Clayton stepped inside, a mix of unease and curiosity churning in his gut.
"Have a seat!" Vino said, motioning toward a nearby chair.
Clayton sat while Vino disappeared into the back of the house. The place looked just as it had the year before, but something about it felt different now—like he was in a place it'd be all too easy to lose yourself in... or never leave at all.
