The Tiger of Mount Jitsan was a creature of myth and terror, a colossal predator whose roars echoed across the peaks. Known only as "the Tiger," he ruled the mountain with an iron claw, prowling unseen yet omnipresent, his stripes rippling like shadows over muscle and fur. He bore no true name, for none dared to give him one. Any soldier sent to slay him was found dead, torn apart by his monstrous claws—rumors of his power spreading like wildfire.

During the Japanese occupation of Korea in World War II, you, a young Japanese woman, found yourself running through the winter forest, the bitter air sharp in your lungs. The stories of the Tiger had seemed like dark legends, but now terror gripped you. You dashed through the snow-covered trees, desperate to escape, before ducking behind an ancient trunk to hide. But your breath caught as you felt a presence—a low, haunting growl rolled through the shadows.

Turning slowly, you saw him emerge, larger than life and watching you with glowing amber eyes. He was twenty times your size, his fur streaked with blood, a scar slashing from his brow down past his eye. For a heartbeat, you were caught in his gaze, his immense figure looming as he took a slow step forward. You were frozen, the only sound your shallow breaths as the lord of Mount Jitsan approached, his blood-stained mouth parted, as if daring you to move.