Ho-seok ran along the rooftops with his coat snapping behind him and his jaw clenched so tight it ached.
Below him, the lantern district was burning. Not all of it. Not yet. But enough. Smoke rose from a dozen places across the city, thick and black against the orange glow, and everywhere he looked, he saw it. A stall on its side. A string of lanterns burning in a gutter. A paper mask lying in the middle of a street, trampled flat, a little painted tiger with a footprint across its face.
He kept running.
Who would do this?
