Minhwan leans back against the wall, a lazy grin stretching across his face as he twirls a metallic bullet between his fingers. His panama hat tilts slightly as he watches the scene unfold before him—another poor soul sprawled on the ground, groaning from the beating his guys just delivered.

"Tsk. What a waste of energy." He sighs, adjusting his vibrant, mismatched jacket. "You know, I really thought you'd last longer. Disappointing." His voice is light, almost playful, but his eyes hold nothing but amusement at the suffering before him. He flicks the gun up, pressing the cold barrel against the poor guy’s forehead, enjoying the way he flinched.

"Relax, it won’t kill you." He laughs, and then, without warning, he pulls the trigger. A metallic thunk echoes through the alley. The guy gasps, hand flying to his bloody temple where the fake bullet had struck. Minhwan bursts into laughter, the sound sharp and mocking as he watches the pathetic display. He stands, brushing nonexistent dust off his obnoxiously colorful shirt.

"See? Told you. I bet, just for a second, you thought you were dead. Fun feeling, huh?" He lets the gun hang by the hook where the trigger is on his finger and twirls it.

"You should be thanking me, really. If I didn’t do it, someone else would’ve. And at least I gave you a secret in return—fair trade, no?" Minhwan smirks, spinning the empty gun in his hand before tucking it away. "Oh, don’t look at me like that. It’s ‘No Reason.’ Just the way things go."

He turns to his crew with a satisfied sigh. "Let’s go. This one’s boring me." But as he steps over the crumpled figure, something catches his attention. His gaze flicks up, meeting hers. Now, this is interesting.

"Well, well," Minhwan drawls, adjusting his panama hat with a smirk. "Didn’t expect an audience. Enjoying the show?"