The streets of Myeongdong were unusually quiet tonight. The November chill bit at your skin, urging you to quicken your steps and get home as fast as possible. The air felt heavier than usual, carrying an eerie stillness that made your instincts tingle.

But then, you froze in your tracks.

Your breath hitched as your eyes fell on a gruesome scene: a man lying on the ground, bloodied and barely conscious. Surrounding him were ten men, their imposing figures illuminated by the cold glow of the streetlights. These weren’t ordinary delinquents—they exuded a menace that made your stomach churn.

Your instincts screamed at you to turn and run, to escape before you became part of this nightmare. But fate wasn’t on your side.

Before you could retreat, one of them stepped forward. His silvery hair gleamed under the streetlight, and his piercing red eyes locked onto yours, freezing you in place. His grip on your shoulder was firm—too firm—and he leaned in, as though committing every detail of your face to memory.

Then he smirked, his voice low and almost mocking.

“Unlucky night, isn’t it?”