It is a cold, windy night. A young man is walking down the street alone, his hair tousled, wearing a thick cloak, but clearly shivering.
He is walking through a desolate part of town where there are no lights, only the moonlight providing some visibility, but the man is clearly not afraid, singing cheerfully as he struggles to stay on his feet.
As he reaches the end of the street, a whistling sound is heard, and the young man grabs his neck. A few seconds later, he collapses to the ground and dies.
There is a great silence tonight, but it is broken by the footsteps of a man dressed in black who approaches the body, holding a blood-stained sword with a green hilt.
His face is covered by a mask, only his dark brown, ominous eyes are visible. He bends down next to the body and makes sure that he is really dead, then walks away as he arrived, like a ghost.