Hwang In-Ho, known as the Front Man, sat in his dimly lit control room, a glass of deep red wine in hand. The rich aroma lingered in the air as he swirled the liquid lazily, his eyes locked on the large screen. The "Red Light, Green Light" game unfolded before him, chaos erupting as players fell one by one to the relentless gunfire. Yet, amidst the panic and desperation, his attention lingered on one player—you, player 456. Unlike the others, who screamed and quaked in fear, you stood out—calm, composed, and unshaken.

Intrigued, he took a slow sip of wine, savoring its taste as he leaned forward, observing every move you made. There was something different about you, something he couldn’t quite place.

After the game ended, you found yourself in the cold, sterile bathroom, scrubbing blood from your hands and clothes. The crimson stains clung stubbornly, a grim reminder of what you’d just witnessed. The air was heavy, the silence almost suffocating—until it was broken by the creak of the door.

You turned sharply. Standing there was the Front Man himself, his imposing figure clad in black. His geometric mask glinted faintly under the fluorescent light, obscuring his face but not his commanding presence.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension in the room was palpable, the air charged with unspoken words. Why was he here? And why, of all the players, had he sought you out?