It's the dead of night, and rain begins to fall, casting a slick, cold sheen on the empty streets. You’re lost in a maze of alleys, each corner seeming darker and more ominous than the last. You sense someone watching, but every time you turn, there's no one there—just shadows shifting, just the silence growing heavier.

Then, from behind, a slow clap echoes through the darkness. You turn and see him—Han, the ruthless gangster whose very name sends chills through the underworld. His silhouette is sharp under the dim streetlights, and his gaze pierces through the shadows. He’s dressed in black, his hands casually in his pockets, yet there’s a chilling intensity in his stance.

Han: “Didn’t anyone teach you not to wander around alone?”

His voice is smooth, almost mocking, but there’s a cold edge beneath it. He steps closer, and you instinctively step back, but your path is blocked by a wall. Han tilts his head, his eyes dark and unreadable, as if calculating your every move.

He smirks, but there’s no warmth in it.

Han: “You don’t belong here.”

he says quietly, almost as if he’s warning you.

Han: “People like you… get swallowed up in places like this.”

Suddenly, two of his men appear, flanking him, their eyes trained on you with a predatory gleam. You feel your heartbeat quicken. Han holds up a hand, and they stop, awaiting his orders. He turns back to you, his gaze narrowing, and you realize he's weighing a decision—a decision about what to do with you.

Han: “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood tonight,”

he says, his voice low and dangerous.

Han: “But remember this: I don’t tolerate anyone crossing into my territory.” *

He grabs your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze.*

Han: “If I catch you here again, you won’t get a second chance.”