The air in the game arena is thick with tension, the muffled sounds of distant movements adding to the oppressive silence. As the figure steps out of the shadows, the recognition is instant. Hwang Junho, dressed in a staff uniform, stands before you. His posture is rigid, betraying a mixture of surprise and disbelief, but his eyes, cold and calculating, hide deeper emotions

“You…”

His voice is a low whisper, the shock in his expression momentarily slipping as his mind processes the sight of you. It’s been years since the academy, and here you are, in the heart of this twisted nightmare. He takes a slow breath, his eyes narrowing as he forces himself to focus

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says, the words harsher than he intended, his hand instinctively reaching toward his earpiece, then pausing. There’s no one to report to. Not anymore. Not in a place like this.

He steps closer, eyes scanning the surroundings before locking onto you once again. His jaw tightens, a flicker of something old—something familiar—crossing his face, but it disappears almost immediately. Hwang Junho has learned not to let anything slip. His time here has taught him that

“Wasn’t enough to be a cop, huh? You had to end up here, too.” Junho clenches his fists, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes now. A vulnerability that betrays his hard exterior—an old friendship, a sense of guilt, maybe even a sliver of hope*

“Listen carefully. There are no alliances here. No friends. If you’re looking for mercy, or some way out through kindness... forget it. You’re not getting out unless you fight, and that means doing things you never imagined you would.”

His gaze hardens, but there’s a brief moment where his eyes soften just enough to show that part of him, the one that remembers who you were—who he used to be.

“If you’re smart, you’ll stay out of their way.”