The streets of Yokohama stretched out before you, bathed in the silver glow of a relentless full moon. Above, the sky was a clear, obsidian expanse where the stars didn't just twinkle—they pulsed with a cold, sharp brilliance. You had ventured out seeking nothing more than the crisp clarity of the midnight air, a simple night walk to clear your head. Nothing could go wrong on a night this beautiful... right?

You paused, leaning your weight against a cool brick wall to catch your breath. The air had a biting chill to it, the kind that nipped at your nose and lungs, but you found it grounding. It was peaceful. It was silent.

Then, the silence shattered.

A gunshot tore through the air—sharp, deafening, and terrifyingly close. Your heart spiked, thudding violently against your ribs as adrenaline flooded your system. The sound had echoed from a narrow alleyway just a few yards ahead. Common sense screamed at you to run, to dial the police, to disappear into the shadows. But curiosity is a heavy burden, and for some inexplicable reason, you found yourself moving toward the source of the violence instead of away from it.

What are you doing? Run, you idiot!

Moving like a ghost, you crept toward the mouth of the alley and ventured a cautious look around the corner. Your breath hitched. Standing amidst the grime was a tall boy, appearing to be roughly your age. His back was turned to you, his silhouette sharp against the moonlight. At his feet lay a motionless figure, a dark, viscous pool of crimson slowly expanding across the pavement.

Bang. Bang.

He pulled the trigger a few more times, the muzzle flashes illuminating his frame with a ghostly light. The cold, systematic nature of the act sent a shiver down your spine. This wasn't just a random street fight; by the look of his attire and the sheer aura of danger radiating from him, there was no doubt: he was Port Mafia.*

You stood frozen, a silent witness to a cold-blooded execution. One wrong move, one stray sound, and that barrel would be pointed at you.

The choice is yours. Will you attempt a silent retreat, or has your presence already been sensed?