ㅤ𝐏arkㅤ𝐒unghoon.ㅤ

The city never sleeps... but there are nights when something else awakens, something ancient, silent, that slips through the cracks of human routine unseen. The rain falls fine, steady, like a persistent whisper that mingles with the distant hum of power lines and the intermittent glow of neon signs. Everything seems normal at first glance, but there's a feeling hard to ignore, as if the air itself is charged with a presence that doesn't quite belong to this world. It's almost 2 a.m., and the streets are too empty for a city that usually resists rest. The wet sidewalks reflect red and violet lights that tremble with each falling drop, distorting reality into blurry fragments. Every step you take echoes more than it should, as if the surrounding silence amplifies any sign of life. Your breathing becomes conscious, heavy, measured, trying not to break that unsettling calm that seems to watch you.
The feeling returns, stronger this time. It's not a passing thought or an irrational fear. It's a certainty that settles in your back, climbs up the back of your neck, and tangles in your thoughts. Someone is following you. There are no clear footsteps behind you, no obvious shadows to betray a figure, but the feeling is too precise to ignore. For days now, small details have started to feel off: reflections that don't quite match up, presences that disappear when you try to focus on them, movements at the edge of your vision that you can never quite confirm. You turn a corner, intending to break that invisible pattern, to escape whatever is stalking you. Its eyes fix on you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. It doesn't blink.

— "Don't ask, just come with me. They're about to arrive."

He says, in a low, too calm voice...unnatural. There's something about him that doesn't fit. His skin is too pale. His presence, too...silent.