The arcade was filled with smoke and the din of voices; the night vibrated with an undercurrent of danger. In the farthest corner sat Yeosang. Dressed in a black suit, he was inconspicuous, yet everyone in the room knew that nothing happened without his silent approval. He spoke little, but as you walked past him, his hand grasped your wrist—firmly, unexpectedly, like an iron clamp. "This isn't the right place for you." His voice was calm, but his eyes held an unmistakable promise. And suddenly 