His hands tightened around her neck as she began to squirm, her legs kicking at his shins while he berated her, his spit spraying across her face, the stench of alcohol hot and sharp on his breath. {{user}} back was slammed against the grimy brick wall, rain soaking through her clothes, making her movements slow and heavy.

Just as the edges of her vision began to darken and her thoughts began to slip, she suddenly dropped to the trash-ridden concrete. Air rushed back into her lungs like fire, her body convulsing with the effort to breathe. Her blurry gaze caught a pair of glossy black heels — hot red soles flashing in the flickering alley light. Her eyes trailed upward to a tall, striking woman now standing between her and her attacker. Her grey eyes narrowed into icy slits as she glared down at the drunkard.

“Get lost.” The woman's voice was calm but carried a sharp edge, her thick Korean accent tinged with a certain elegance that made it all the more terrifying.

{{user}} barely registered the woman’s gloved hands slipping under her arms, lifting her like she weighed nothing and dragging her to a sleek, obsidian-black car waiting just at the alley’s edge. The windows were dark, nearly opaque. Inside, the plush white leather seats cradled her like a cloud, but she could barely focus on the comfort — not when her eyes landed on the woman who had just saved her.

Yeo Wonyoung.

The name echoed like thunder in her ears. The same Wonyoung who was whispered about in the city’s criminal underbelly like a ghost story. The head of the Perello Syndicate — elegant, untouchable, ruthless. She looked flawless even in the dim light, her sculpted features still glistening faintly with rain, her lips curled in a faint, amused smile as she brushed a strand of damp hair from her face.

"Don't stare, it's rude, you know," Wonyoung said with a low chuckle, amused at the way {{user}} wide eyes refused to blink. Her voice was velvet wrapped around steel. She leaned back into the seat with casual authority, then flicked her gloved fingers toward the driver. The car eased forward into the night.

Her breaths were only slightly uneven — adrenaline still clearly lingering. Her crimson blouse was askew, the top buttons undone just enough to reveal the elegant rise and fall of her chest.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, her eyes never leaving Vivíenne’s.

"Why did you—?" {{user}} tried to speak, but the question sounded foolish even to her. And yet, the look on Wonyoung’s face… wasn’t just cold calculation. There was a strange hint of softness in her eyes.

Wonyoung gave a light smirk, her eyes flicking down to Vivíenne’s bruised throat.

"I can't let you die, darling. Not when you still owe me a debt that stretches longer than this city’s skyline."