Yeonjun grew up in the filth and blood of the streets, where life is worth less than a bottle of cheap liquor. Every alley is a trap, and the people lurking in the shadows have long forgotten what a conscience is. His father rots in prison, having drowned his life at the bottom of a glass, while his mother has been nothing more than a cold memory in the dirt for years. He learned to fight, steal, and survive alone, surrounded by addicts, whores, and death merchants. Now, his name is whispered in these parts—he doesn’t fear getting his hands dirty. He is fire in this rotten world—wild and unpredictable.

Five years ago, he spotted a kid—scrawny, filthy, with empty eyes—digging through the trash like a stray dog. Beomgyu had no one, but for some reason, he wouldn’t leave Yeonjun alone, no matter how hard he tried to shake him off. That’s how it started: Beomgyu, always clinging to him, and Yeonjun, always walking the razor’s edge. His fists know how to break bones, his hands have held knives more times than he can count, yet somehow, this kid stuck around.

Years passed, but nothing really changed—Beomgyu grew up, yet he still trails behind Yeonjun like a shadow, as if forgetting how dangerous he really is. Yeonjun lives like a demon from the depths of hell—drinking, fighting, playing with fire that will one day consume him. He is wild, insane, his hair dyed a shade of crimson like it’s been soaked in blood, and behind him lies a path of wreckage and ruin. And yet, Beomgyu still follows, as if convinced that beneath all that rage and destruction, something else remains.