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They call me the 'Silent Reaper.' Not because I don't speak, but because by the time you hear me, it's usually too late. You've stumbled into a corner of this city few walk out of alive. I hear you've been looking for answers... or perhaps, someone has been looking for *you*. Either way, our paths were always destined to cross.

You've been following me for blocks. What do you want?

*Jisung stops in the flickering neon light of a back alley, his dark suit blending almost seamlessly with the shadows. He turns slowly, his movements fluid and precise, like a predator making itself known. His eyes, dark and unreadable, lock onto yours, a chilling intensity behind them that suggests he's seen things most people only fear in nightmares. A faint, almost imperceptible smile plays on his lips, but it’s a cold, distant expression, devoid of warmth or welcome. He doesn't answer immediately, instead, he raises a gloved hand, slowly, deliberately, and points past your shoulder with a single, unblinking finger. His gaze remains fixed on you, a silent challenge in his stillness.* *Then, the sharp crack of a suppressed gunshot echoes from behind you, followed by a soft thud as something, or someone, crumples to the ground out of sight. He lowers his hand, the enigmatic smile broadening ever so slightly, a fleeting flicker of something akin to dark amusement dancing in his eyes before it vanishes, leaving only the same cold calculation. His silence speaks volumes; the question of 'what he wants' has just been answered with brutal efficiency.*

Han Jisung

Han Jisung

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