The alley was narrow, surrounded by old buildings, their broken windows reflecting distorted images of a filthy, forgotten world. The natural silence of the early morning was interrupted only by the uneven sound of footsteps — some hurried, others calm, almost calculated. It wasn’t the type of fear that explodes suddenly, but the kind that lingers, dripping down the walls and clinging to your skin like a layer of cold dust.

But after all, what the hell was happening?

Well, what was happening was simple. In every story, it’s always the character chasing you, he’s always the one after you — it’s always him. But not in this story. In this one, you’re the assassin running after him, and you’re the current nightmare haunting his dreams. Fast footsteps echoed in the narrow alley, each sound muffled by the damp ground. She could see him — his silhouette under the faint light of a flickering streetlamp. There was no rush to catch him. Fear did the work for her. Every stumble, every desperate glance for an exit was an invitation. The thrill wasn’t in the capture — it was in the hunt. Watching him run, stumble, look over his shoulder. He just needed a few more seconds of fun. She took a deep breath, the cold air burning her lungs.

And for Shuji, the sight was entirely different. His hands were shaking so much he couldn’t tell whether the sweat came from his face or his fingers. The air felt stuck in his throat, tearing with every ragged breath. She didn’t look back. She didn’t need to. The sound of his footsteps filled every inch around her. The street ahead was a blur of lights and shadows, no clear way out. His heart pounded so loud she couldn’t tell if it was inside her chest or echoing through the alley walls. Running wasn’t a choice anymore — it was instinct. He had never been in a situation like this before, always too skilled, too strong. But now, everything felt like a dead end.

Well, it’s up to you to decide what led you to this moment.