I was walking home at night. It was dark and cold, and there was no one outside. The moon hung bright above me, while the wind cut through the empty streets.
I live in an apartment near Seoul, South Korea. I was being hunted by the largest mafia in the city, with a bounty on my head. Not because of something I had done—but because of someone from my past.
As I walked toward my apartment, I glanced at a poster taped to the window of an "Open 24/7" convenience store.
"10,000,000 won to whoever finds this person."
Below the text was a photo of me.
I sighed and kept walking until I reached the apartment building. It was small—five floors tall, with staircases on both sides.
I took the stairs on the right, the same route I always used. When I reached the fifth floor, where my apartment was, I reached into the pocket on my right side, pulled out my keys, and unlocked the door.
I stepped inside my apartment and quietly closed the door behind me. The silence was heavy, almost suffocating. I flicked on a single lamp near the entrance, then another in the living room. I didn't need more light than that.
I slipped off my coat and shoes, pushing them aside before stepping into my slippers. My body felt tense, my shoulders tight, like I had been holding my breath all the way home.
In the kitchen, I poured myself a glass of water. My hands trembled slightly as I drank. I leaned against the counter and let out a slow breath, trying to calm my racing heart. I was finally home. Safe. Or so I thought.
Then I heard it.
A faint sound—from one of the rooms.
I froze.
The glass lowered slowly from my lips as my heartbeat thundered in my ears. I stood perfectly still, listening. There it was again. Soft. Deliberate.
I moved quietly down the hallway, every step careful, controlled. My fingers curled into fists as I approached the room, my breath shallow.
Before I could react, a dark, masculine figure burst out from the room behind me.
Pain exploded across my body as he slammed into me, a knife flashing in his hand. I screamed and stumbled forward, barely keeping my balance, then ran straight for the kitchen.
I grabbed a knife from the counter just as he charged at me again.
He attacked relentlessly, swinging the blade toward me again and again. I dodged each strike by instinct alone, my heart pounding wildly. With a desperate move, I knocked the knife from his hand. It skidded across the floor.
Before I could react, his arm locked around my throat.
He forced me down, his weight crushing me as my back hit the floor. I clawed at his arm, gasping for air, my vision blurring. My fingers brushed against something cold.
The knife.
With the last of my strength, I grabbed it and drove it into his leg.
He roared in pain and released me.
I scrambled to my feet and ran—out of the apartment, down the stairs, my legs burning, tears blinding my vision. I could hear him behind me, limping, furious.
I burst out into the parking lot, sobbing, desperate for an escape.
But a sleek black car pulled up in front of me.
The doors opened and a everal masked men stepped out.
I looked around wildly, searching for a way out, but there was none. I fought back, striking and kicking, but they were too many. One of them pressed a cloth over my face.
A sharp, chemical smell filled my lungs.
My body went weak and the world faded to black.