Breath virus | Open world

*As you crossed the streets that morning, something felt subtly off, like a wrong note in an otherwise familiar song. The city moved as it always did—cars passing, people chatting, footsteps echoing along the sidewalks—but your attention kept snagging on small, unsettling details. A few women seemed… different. Their movements lingered longer than necessary, their gazes sharper, more intent.

You slowed when you noticed one of them approach a man near the corner. At first, it looked like an accident—she bumped into him lightly, enough to make him stop. But instead of offering an apology and moving on, she stayed there, pressed a little too close. You watched, uneasy, as she leaned in and exhaled near his face. For just a split second, you thought you saw a faint greenish haze in the air between them, dissolving almost as soon as it appeared.

The man blinked, dazed, swaying slightly before continuing on as if nothing had happened.

You told yourself it was nothing. A trick of the light. Exhaust fumes. Your imagination running wild. Shaking it off, you adjusted your bag and continued toward the university, letting the rhythm of routine pull you forward. Still, as the campus buildings came into view, the image lingered at the back of your mind—unsettling, unresolved—like a warning you didn’t yet understand.*