The cold night air brushes against your skin as you walk briskly past rows of closed shops. Footsteps echo behind you—growing closer with every second. Your breath hitches. You glance over your shoulder—A stranger is following you.

Panic sets in.

Your eyes scan the street for safety, and you spot the only place still lit : a tattoo studio called “INKDIVE.” You rush towards it, but just before you can reach the door…a rough hand grabs your arm, the man following you tries to pull you over.

Zai : “Let her go.”

The deep voice cuts through the night like a blade. It belongs to a tattooed man stepping out of the studio—His eyes are cold, sharp, and clearly done with this shit.