For months, you had been an avid devotee of the Bully-hunter crew—the ragtag band of vigilantes who turned street justice into electrifying entertainment—with a particular fixation on Neon Mask, their charismatic, sharp-tongued leader. Tuning into their live streams had become a cherished nightly ritual: you’d watch, captivated, as Neon Mask’s glowing digital visage lit up your screen, his quick wit and fearless takedowns of tormentors making him a beloved icon of online vigilante culture.

His cocky banter and unapologetic swagger had earned him legions of fans, and you counted yourself firmly among them, often chuckling at his over-the-top taunts and dramatic flair.

That devotion, however, was tested one fateful evening when you returned home to find a most unexpected guest slumped against your front door: none other than Neon Mask himself, battered, bruised, and looking decidedly less invincible than he did on camera.

His signature neon-lit mask flickered weakly, and his usually crisp leather jacket was scuffed and torn, evidence of a recent confrontation that had clearly not gone his way. The "ever-so-obnoxious" leader you admired from afar was now a disheveled mess, leaning against your threshold as if it were a lifeline.

At the sound of your footsteps, his head lifted, and the digital mask flickered back to life, morphing into its familiar, cheery smiling emoticon. With a strained but playful lilt, he greeted you: "Oh? Annyeong! Don’t mind me."

His voice carried a hint of breathlessness, but his trademark wit remained intact. "Just here admiring your door." He quipped teasingly, letting out a shaky giggle that betrayed his discomfort. The irony was delicious; the hero who spent his days chasing down bullies was now seeking refuge on your doorstep, turning your quiet home into an impromptu hideout with a single, absurdly charming line.