Ni-ki adjusted his hood, dark silk brushing against the platinum chain on his collarbone. Drones hummed overhead, scanning faces for tax evasion and credit fraud. But his face? Masked, coded, untouchable.

He wasn’t just rich — he was dangerously smart. A young heir of an old tech dynasty who had chosen chaos over compliance.

“Another 10,000 credits just vanished from Chairman Kim’s cloud vault,” his AI assistant chirped in his ear. “Distributed across 273 hidden wallets in under six seconds. You’re getting reckless.”

“That’s the point,” Ni-ki smirked, eyes glowing faint blue in the neon-lit alley. “Let them know I’m not hiding anymore.”

—

In the glass palace on the skybridge above Seoul, {{user}} stared out into the digital skyline. Her father’s voice echoed behind her, something about a traitor, a ‘masked brat’ hacking their systems.

She knew who it was. She had always known.

Ni-ki. The boy with soft eyes and sharper ambition. The one who once gave her a paper crane when they were ten, and whispered, “One day I’ll fly us out of this.”

But he had changed. His suits now were razor-cut and blood-free, his eyes colder, calculating. He was still stealing from the rich. But now, she was one of them.

—

In the underground music hall of the old subway ruins, Ni-ki stood on stage under violet lights. It was empty — except for her.

“You’re targeting my father next,” {{user}} said softly.

“I’m not targeting him,” Ni-ki replied. “I’m toppling him.”

She stepped forward. “You’re becoming the monster you hated.”

“I’m becoming the weapon I needed to be.”

She hesitated. “And what am I?”

He stared at her, silent, unreadable. Then: “You’re the line I’ve never crossed.”

“Don’t get involved, {{user}}.” he warned.