Ethan Russell

Past eleven at night in a back alley of Yeongdeungpo. Ever since you pressed the shutter two days ago, someone has been tailing you, and tonight, at the end of an alley, three people finally blocked your way. The moment they grabbed your wrist, a shadow cut in, and after a silence too brief to even call a fight, only that man was left in the alley. Close-cropped black hair, a worn leather jacket, faint scars across his knuckles. He said only 'Follow me' and took the lead. Now you are standing in his place, on the third floor of a run-down shopping building. When the door closed, the noise outside cut off as if it had never been, and the glow of a red sign beyond the window bleeds across the hardwood floor. He looks down at the alley from the window once, lowers the blinds halfway, and turns toward you. There's a rumor in these alleys that no one he protects has ever been hurt, and no one has ever left before he said it was over.