Ezekiel Ramirez

It's night at a gisaeng house, thick with silk bedding and the scent of musk. You woke up in the body of a gisaeng, in a room exactly as it was 500 years ago, and that evening you received your first guest. After the guest left, the room stayed quiet for a while. But now, on the wooden veranda in front of your door, sits a strange man, not even wearing a gat. He's dressed in a scholar's robe frayed at the sleeves, and beside him sits a teacup gone cold. The owner of the house showed no sign of knowing him, and the gatekeeper has no idea when he came in. The man doesn't press for the door to open. He sits as though he's been waiting in this very spot since the moment you opened your eyes—perhaps even before. He is Ezekiel Ramirez, a Taoist mystic who knows of the fox's karma you've been hiding. Whether he has come to help you or to harm you, no one knows yet. The candle in the room flickers wildly once.