That night, I trudged home alone, the deserted streets echoing only with the cold rhythm of my heels against the asphalt. I flipped through my notebook, my mind racing to connect the old warehouses and the Red District galas Jung Jimyung had mentioned. Everything remained as blurred as a stained painting.
Suddenly, a brutal arm lunged from the shadows of a narrow alley, tightening around my throat and dragging me into the darkness. My back slammed against the jagged brick wall, sending a jolt of pain through my spine.
"Still as persistent as a leech, aren't you, Hime?"
That raspy, haunting voice... I stared wide-eyed at the man before me. Under the flickering yellow streetlights, Simon's face emerged, wearing that distorted smile I could never forget. He pressed a cold, sharp blade against my throat, his breath reeking of metal and death.
"I went easy on you at the harbor, but it seems you don't know your place. Listen closely: erase every trace you've found, burn that notebook, and keep your mouth shut. If you dare crawl anywhere near Jung Jimyung's business again, I'll make you vanish like a black rose shattering in a mirror."
I felt the tremor in my own breath as the blade began to graze my skin. Simon wasn't playing. He wasn't just stalking me; he seemed to know my every move within those prison walls.
(Hime is the first-person narrator, and from this point onwards, the perspective will be from the overall viewpoint, not just Hime's own ^^But it depends on the situation; normally, I still write from Hime's perspective.)
Mike stood in the center of the cell, reeking of blood, his crimson-stained hands trembling with a brutal excitement. Jung Jimyung lay motionless on the cold stone floor, a broken heap whose breath barely resembled that of a human.
But just as Mike reached for a handkerchief to wipe the filth from his fingers, his pupils constricted. A strange current of air, thick with the scent of metal and the familiar fragrance of Hime, drifted past his nose. It was Simon's scent.
In the darkness, Mike's soulless black eyes suddenly bled into a vivid, burning red, flashing with a loathsome murderous intent. Every nerve in his body tightened like a violin string.
"Daring to touch what is mine... you bastard."
In a heartbeat, Mike's towering silhouette blurred and vanished entirely into thin air.
Back in the alley, as Simon's blade pressed hard against Hime's throat, a frigid gust of wind swept through. Before Simon could process what was happening, a hand as unyielding as a steel vice clamped onto his wrist, wrenching it backward with a sickening crack.
Mike appeared, shielding Hime completely behind his back. Under the dim streetlights, his glowing red eyes fixed on Simon like he was staring at a corpse. The smile on Mike's lips no longer held a trace of humanity.
"Found you, you sewer rat."
I stood frozen at the scene. The murderous aura radiating from Mike made the alley air grow thick and suffocating. Seeing him about to snap Simon's neck with those blood-stained hands, I lunged forward, gripping his arm with all my strength.
"Stop, Mike! Don't kill him!"
My scream echoed through the deserted alley. Mike stiffened, those burning red eyes still pinned on Simon like a predator robbed of its kill. Seizing the moment, Simon—who had been so arrogant moments ago—turned pale as a ghost. Clutching his broken wrist, the coward stumbled back and fled into the shadows, vanishing behind the crumbling buildings.
Mike didn't give chase. He stood rooted to the spot, his chest heaving with unvented rage. I watched as his pupils slowly constricted, the crimson hue fading until they returned to a pitch-black as dark as the night. He turned around, his towering frame blotting out the streetlight, his handsome face twisted in sheer frustration for being held back.
"What the hell are you doing? He almost killed you."
He snapped, his voice low and heavy with resentment. Yet, despite his harsh words, his hands trembled as they gripped my shoulders, turning me side to side to check for injuries. He roughly brushed my hair aside, staring intently at the small nick on my neck left by Simon's blade. Mike's gaze darkened the moment he saw the fresh streak of blood against my pale skin.
"Damn it... He actually made you bleed."
I let out a long breath, trying to keep my voice steady to soothe his exploding rage. I placed my hand over Mike's trembling one, speaking softly:
"I'm fine, Mike. It's just a scratch. Killing him now would only bring you unnecessary trouble."
Mike let out a harsh grunt, his expression remains fierce and irritable. Ignoring my reassurances, he roughly grabbed my wrist and dragged me toward my nearby apartment.
Once inside, he shoved me down onto the sofa. Mike rummaged through the medical kit with blunt, agitated movements, cursing under his breath. He soaked the cotton with alcohol so aggressively it made me wince, yet his long, slender fingers were strangely meticulous as they wiped away the dried blood on my neck.
"Shut up. If you ever let yourself fall into such a pathetic state again, don't blame me for being rough."
Mike growled, his face pressing close to my neck, his breath reeking of cigarette smoke mingled with the metallic scent of blood from the prison. He applied the bandage clumsily yet with a sense of stark possession. His pitch-black eyes locked onto mine, cold and unwavering.
"I'm letting him slide this time because you begged. But next time, Hime... I will tear Simon apart right in front of you. No exceptions."
I watched him in silence. Mike remained a dangerous enigma—a beast in human skin that I had never truly learned to control.