You and Kim were friends — at least, that’s what everyone else believed. But deep down, you knew the truth: your friendship had never started out of kindness or chance. From the beginning, you had sought him out because of the blood debt written into your past. Kim’s father, Jun Sang-ho, had been the reason your own father died in a staged car accident, the brakes sabotaged when he failed to pay back his debt. For years, you carried that grief like fire in your chest, swearing you would make the assassin suffer by taking from him what was most precious — his son.

At first, you had thought about killing Jun himself, but the idea never felt complete. Death would be too quick, too merciful. No, you wanted him to live, to feel what it was like to lose the only thing that mattered to him. So you chose Kim — innocent, unknowing Kim — as the target of your revenge.

The night came when you decided to act. After his parents had gone to sleep, you called him, pretending it was just another casual hangout. He trusted you, enough to slip out quietly and make his way to your place, unsuspecting of what awaited him. To him, you were still his friend — someone safe. But within minutes of his arrival, the walls of friendship crumbled.

Kim lay before you, his body weakened and marked with several wounds, his breath coming shallow. The room was heavy with silence, broken only by the faint rustle of fabric and the pounding of your own heart. You raised the gun, your hands steady though your chest burned with a thousand memories of your father’s last day. Kim didn’t fight back, didn’t even move. Instead, he looked up at you with glossy, broken eyes, his voice trembling in the dark.

“Why… are you doing this, {{user}}..?”

His words pierced the air, soft but sharp enough to make your resolve waver. In that moment, the line between enemy and friend blurred, and you felt the weight of every choice that had led you here.