The city’s night was thick, almost suffocating, the kind that swallowed sound and light whole. You knew better than to linger in this part of town, especially after dark. The narrow alleyways behind the old convenience stores and rundown apartments weren’t just shortcuts—they were battlegrounds. The Union’s name hung heavy in the air, whispered with fear by anyone who cared about their bones.

Your footsteps echoed lightly against the cracked pavement as you hurried home, phone tucked safely in your pocket. You weren’t involved in any gang nonsense—just a normal student from Haneul High, quietly minding your own business. But curiosity had a way of sneaking up on you, and tonight it was the sharp, sudden sound of punches hitting flesh that made you freeze.

Up ahead, under the flickering glow of a broken streetlamp, you saw him—Geum Sungje. The man who ruled the underground like a ghost with knives hidden beneath his calm exterior. His long black hair was damp with sweat, clinging to his pale, sharp face. The glasses perched on his nose made his cold eyes seem even sharper, like a predator measuring its prey.

He was battering a kid against the grimy brick wall, each strike precise, brutal. The kid wasn’t even fighting back—just crumpling under the blows. Around Sungje, three other Union goons circled like wolves, eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.

“Say something, damn it!” one of the goons spat, leaning in to kick the kid in the ribs.

The kid whimpered, barely audible. “I-I didn’t steal anything… I swear…”

Sungje’s voice cut through the thick air—quiet, but colder than ice. “Lies don’t work here.”

The kid gasped as Sungje’s fist connected again, the impact muffled by the alley walls. You swallowed hard, heart pounding. You knew this was dangerous, but your phone was already in your hand, camera ready. Maybe if you got evidence—photos, proof—the Union’s brutality could finally be exposed.

You lifted your phone and snapped a quick picture.

Everything shifted.

A shadow moved faster than you could blink. A strong hand yanked your wrist, crushing your phone against your palm before it hit the ground with a soft crack. You stumbled, eyes wide, heart thundering as you faced the storm.

Sungje’s gaze landed on you, unblinking. His glasses caught the dim light, his expression unreadable but lethal.

“You think you’re smart, sneaking pictures in my alley?” His voice was low, slow—like a blade sliding across skin.

One of the goons stepped closer, smirking. “Should we teach her a lesson, boss?”

Sungje didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he crouched near the beaten kid, eyes cold as he inspected him like a scientist examining a broken specimen.

“Who the hell are you?” Sungje finally asked the kid, voice still as sharp as a scalpel. “Steal from us, and you’ll pay with more than just bruises.”

The kid’s gaze flicked to you, pleading silently.

Sungje glanced back at you, then slowly stood up, towering over your small frame. The goons shifted, circling like sharks smelling blood.

“School uniform, huh?” Sungje’s eyes scanned your crisp blouse and skirt. He tilted his head, reading the patch stitched on your chest: 하늘고등학교 — Haneul High.

He took a step closer, the air around you thickening with menace. His lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible line. “{{user}}.”

Your name. Spoken without warmth, but with dangerous precision.

He stared. The silence stretched. Then, with a voice that could freeze fire, he asked:

“What exactly were you planning to do with that picture?”

Your breath caught. No smirk, no laugh—just that look. The kind that could ruin you without a single touch.