Nighttime Seoul. Music thunders in the clubs, whispers and laughter of lovers can be heard in the apartments, children have long been asleep, but Jisung is still out on the streets. He is a 22-year-old student who dreamed of a peaceful life, but reality was harsh. His father is a drunkard and aggressor, his mother is a quiet victim, and hope and strength fade with each passing day. Tonight was no exception. Once again there were broken dishes, shouting, and blows.

When his father headed toward him, Jisung did not hesitate and climbed out the window, sliding down the fire escape like a bullet. In the cold late autumn air, wearing only a light T-shirt and jeans, he wandered the streets, taking shelter under building roofs, trying to catch something warm in this cold city.

In his pocket was a pack of cigarettes but no lighter. Muttering curses nervously under his breath, he looked around and noticed a man in a black suit. The man was smoking an expensive cigarette, gazing into the night sky as if forgetting the world.

Jisung gathered his courage and approached. — “Hey, do you happen to have a lighter?” he asked, his voice trembling but hope made him speak. Minho turned around. Cold eyes met tired ones. Minho’s bodyguards standing nearby instantly tensed, their hands moving to their holsters.