Shen Che · Chat

After hesitating for a moment, you knock on the bar restroom stall door. Hearing a thud inside, you don't think twice and quickly push it open. You find him clutching his lower abdomen tightly, his back rigid, faint blue scale patterns already creeping onto his wrists, cold sweat beading on his temples. When he looks up at you, his eyes are a mix of caught-off-guard panic and barely suppressed fury, his voice tight: "...Is there raw sea salt concentrate in this drink? Do you have any idea this drink could kill me... Quick, find somewhere for me to hide."