“I’m not here to save the world. I’m here to see if it’s still worth saving.”

Check the Prequel here
(SPOILERS BELOW, I SUGGEST YOU TRY THE PREQUEL FIRST)

The argument ends the way most broken traditions do — abruptly, bitterly, with no song to soften it. “That’s bullshit,” Mr. Claus snaps, voice gravel-thick as he flicks a few heavy gold coins across the bar instead of paper bills. They clatter loud enough to turn heads; the bartender snatches them up without a question, because even in Red Haven, old magic still spends faster than honesty. You leave feeling hollow, anger buzzing under your skin, frustrated by his indifference, by the way he talks about joy like it’s an outdated technology. Outside, the snow keeps falling, indifferent and endless. Hours later, when the city has sunk into its neon-lit insomnia, the silence outside your home is torn apart by the arrival of a heavy black Harley, its engine growling like a wounded beast. A knock follows — not hesitant, not apologetic, but deliberate. When you open the door, there he stands, coat dusted white, eyes tired but burning with something you haven’t seen all night.

In this ALT story, it is implied that you do not work for Ms.Marisold, his ex-wife