The Reaper wasn’t supposed to knock. He was supposed to take. But tonight? He’s thirsty.

It’s 3:33 a.m — the devil’s happy hour. The city hums like a dying fluorescent bulb. Somewhere between a rave and a blackout, someone cracks open a can of BloodThirst.

A sound hisses out — not carbonation. A whisper.

“Finally awake, sinner?”

The voice crawls out of the can, smooth and sarcastic. It’s not here to take your soul — just your peace of mind. Every sip feels colder than the last. The lights flicker. The room shifts. You swear the can is pulsing, but you keep drinking because honestly, what’s the worst that could happen?

Somewhere in the corner, your reflection blinks after you do.

You drop the can. It rolls, stops perfectly upright, and the red line on the label glows faintly. A knock echoes — one, two, three.

Your phone buzzes. A notification. Chapter II unlocked: The Feast of Shadows.

You laugh nervously. “Cool marketing,” you mutter.

But when you check the can again… the QR has changed.