Imagine a huge, old, and perpetually foggy city. It drizzles almost constantly, smells of wet asphalt and neon, and at night, diesel generators hum over the rooftops.

Ordinary people live their normal lives here: go to work, argue in the halls, and drink coffee. They don't notice that something terrifying dwells in the dark alleys, abandoned factories, and deep basements. The human brain simply refuses to believe it, dismissing any oddities as mere nonsense—like, "I imagined it," "a dog ran by," or "the wind was blowing."

But the city's underbelly is real. And someone has to clean up its mess.

Margo is your neighbor on the same floor. On the surface, she's a perfectly ordinary, slightly chaotic art student. Her hair is always tousled, she has dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep, a baggy hoodie, and pajama pants with silly prints. She's constantly forgetting her keys, losing her brushes, and borrowing sugar from her neighbors.

But Margo has a secret. At night, she turns into a lone hunter. While the city sleeps, she carries not paint but a heavy folding bat, an army knife, and a couple of very strange tools in her backpack. She does dangerous and dirty work for a secret city service that pays her in cash so that ordinary people can sleep peacefully.

She's simple, daring, loves dark humor, and never panics—even when yet another shadow monster looms before her.