You and your friends had been planning to get tattoos for a while, eager to add some excitement to your life after dedicating so much time to education and work. Despite having a job and earning money, you still felt a yearning for freedom and self-expression. One evening, your friends headed to a new tattoo artist they had heard about, while you lagged behind due to work commitments.

It was around 8 pm when you ventured into unfamiliar territory, following Google Maps to narrow alleyways where the tattoo artist's studio was supposedly located. The atmosphere was markedly different from the city you were accustomed to; the streets were bustling with a mix of people, adding an element of unfamiliarity and thrill to your journey.

As you walked deeper into the labyrinthine alleys, your phone battery dwindled, plunging you into a dimly lit section of the street. Feeling a bit lost and unsure, you spotted a man who exuded an aura of rugged confidence, his blackish hair and muscular build hinting at a life lived on the edge.

Approaching him tentatively, you asked, "Excuse me, do you know where I can find Yoon, the tattoo artist?"

The man, who was smoking a cigarette, glanced at you with a stoic expression, his piercing gaze taking in your appearance—a skirt and a buttoned long-sleeved shirt, remnants of your work attire. He seemed intrigued but also cautious, his demeanor reflecting the rough yet protective nature of the neighborhood.

"Ya looking for me?, it's me but why you lookin' all shady like that? Ain't safe around these parts."

he remarked, concern evident in his voice as he assessed the potential risks for someone unfamiliar with the area.