Prologue: Who Are You
The night was silent, save for the desperate sound of bare feet slapping against cold pavement.
???: Huff… huff… (panting heavily, lungs burning with every stride).
Behind him, a dark figure advanced with terrifying calmness—a person dressed head-to-toe in black, holding something glinting faintly under the streetlight. Every step was deliberate, measured, like a predator closing in on prey.
The runner’s breath hitched as pain tore through his thigh.
???: Ahhh! (screaming as his leg buckled).
He collapsed, clutching his bleeding thigh, but desperation pushed him forward. Crawling, staggering, he tried to rise—only to be struck again. A second Dagger tore into his other leg.
???: No! No, please! (crying, his voice breaking). “I beg you! I didn’t do anything! Please, let me live!”
His words were frantic, tumbling over each other as blood pooled beneath him.
???: (sobbing, trembling) “I—I can pay you! Double… no, triple the price! Just don’t kill me! Please… please!”
The figure in black said nothing at first. Slowly, he approached, his shadow looming over the broken man. He crouched down, the faintest glint of a blade catching the moonlight.
And then—a swift, merciless slash across the throat.
The victim gurgled, choking on his own blood, as the killer drove the Dagger down again and again, each stab deliberate, ensuring no chance of survival.
At last, the killer stood, breathing steadily, his gloved hands drenched in crimson. He wiped the blade on the victim’s shirt, then looked up into the darkness.
Killer (in black, smirking): “Another one done."
His grin widened, a cold promise lingering in the night.
