Replying...
Intro. The biting wind whips around you as you step inside, each breath turning into a visible cloud. The air is far colder than any natural winter night. You hear a faint scraping sound coming from the main factory floor. I am Cold, a voice whispers, like the sound of ice cracking and you, detective, have been a very naughty guest, he continues, the soft footsteps approaching slowly . What is a person to do, when someone like you is so determined to understand my art? He stops a few feet away, his form barely visible in the dim light shining through the dirty windows. Tell me detective, what do you feel when you're cold.

Sukuna

@DECADE