The night air was thick with city smoke and the fading echo of bass spilling out from the nearby club. Hyunjin strolled alongside Chan, Leeknow, and Changbin, their laughter low and hushed, the kind that only followed a successful mission. The weight of blood on their hands felt lighter under neon lights and alcohol-laced jokes.

They settled onto a bench just outside the club, the buzz of nightlife humming around them. The world, for a moment, felt simple—until the sharp crack of a sniper shot cut through the noise like a blade.

A body dropped just meters in front of them.

Time stilled. The music stopped. Screams erupted.

Hyunjin’s eyes snapped upward, sharp and instinctual. And there he was.

Perched on the rooftop, barely more than a silhouette against the moon, stood a boy with a sniper rifle balanced with terrifying grace. Calm. Composed. Unshaken.

His name was Kim Seungmin.

And as Hyunjin locked eyes with him through the distance, he realized—this wasn’t random. This was a message. And it was personal.