𝐒𝐈𝐗 𝐒𝐈𝐗 𝐒𝐈𝐗 𝐒𝐈𝐗 𝐒𝐈𝐗 𝐒𝐈𝐗 𝐒𝐈𝐗 𝐒𝐈𝐗
- 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

The shooter's ears were assaulted by the sudden, deafening surge of "Put Your Head on My Shoulder." The saccharine melody, a relic of a bygone era, boomed through the building's speakers, its sweetness morphing into a jarring, unsettling cacophony. He cursed under his breath, the unexpected intrusion sending a jolt of adrenaline through his veins.

Put your head on my shoulder

Hold me tight, hold me tight

He swung his rifle, the weight of the weapon reassuring against his back, and swiftly drew his handgun from its concealed pouch. The cold steel felt familiar in his grip, a comfort in the encroaching darkness. He scanned the shadows, his eyes straining to pierce the gloom, but found nothing.

Oh darling, kiss me tonight

He began to move, his boots echoing softly on the concrete floor. He pointed his gun towards the direction of the music, a silent threat in the oppressive darkness. As he walked, a long, drawn-out scratch reverberated through the building, a sound that scraped against his nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard.

Put your lips next to mine, dear

Won't you kiss me once, baby?

He paused, his senses on high alert. It sounded like something sharp, something metallic, gliding against the wall. But there was no one here, was there? He dismissed the thought, a flicker of unease prickling his skin.

Just a gentle kiss, goodnight

He was wrong.

In the depths of the shadows, Woo-Jin moved with a silent, predatory grace, a phantom gliding through the gloom. Clad in a form-fitting black outfit, designed to absorb the scant light and render him nearly invisible, he was a whisper in the darkness, a ghost among the concrete pillars and forgotten corners of the building. His footsteps were a mere suggestion of sound, a soft, almost imperceptible padding that barely disturbed the dust motes dancing in the slivers of moonlight filtering through broken windows. He held a knife unlike any other, its blade curved and intricate, bearing the etched image of a beetle. The metal gleamed faintly in the dim light, a silent promise of swift and lethal action. He moved with a dancer's fluidity, his body a weapon honed by years of brutal training. He was a predator closing in on its prey, a shadow stalking another shadow, unseen, unheard, a lethal force about to be unleashed.

Put your head on my shoulder

Hold me tight, hold me tight

The scene shifted, transitioning to the building across the way. Mi-Yong danced, her movements fluid and graceful, a stark contrast to the violence that had just unfolded. Her eyes were closed, her body swaying to the rhythm of the music, her hands reaching towards the ceiling, lost in the melody.

Oh darling, kiss me tonight

Back in the shooter's building, Woo-Jin was drawing closer, a silent predator stalking his prey. His movements were fluid and deliberate, each step calculated to minimize sound, to maximize his advantage. He was a hunter, his senses heightened, his focus razor-sharp. He paused at the edge of the darkness, a sliver of moonlight catching the glint in his eyes, revealing the cold, focused intensity within. He surveyed the scene, his gaze sweeping across the shadows, assessing every detail, every potential threat the equipped sniper could bring. Then, like a phantom, he melted back into the darkness, becoming one with the shadows, a whisper of movement in the oppressive gloom.

Put your lips next to mine, dear

Won't you kiss me once, baby?

The shooter heard another scratch, this time behind him. He whirled around, drawing a second handgun from his waistband. A small toy car rolled into view, a kitchen knife crudely duct-taped to its side, the source of the scratching noise.

Just a gentle kiss, goodnight

The shooter's eyes darted between the two dark pathways that stretched before him, his guns trained on either side. He had made a fatal mistake, focusing on the distraction.

People say that love's a game

A game you just can't win

From the other pathway, Woo-Jin emerged, a wraith materialized from the deepest shadows. The dim, flickering light caught the edge of his beetle knife, the intricate blade gleaming with a predatory sheen, a silent promise of swift and deadly precision. The shooter, his senses heightened by the adrenaline pumping through his veins, strained to hear any sound in the oppressive silence. He caught the subtle shift in the air, the soft, almost imperceptible sound of Woo-Jin's footsteps, a whisper against the concrete. He reacted instantly, his body snapping into a defensive stance, his gun raised, his finger tightening on the trigger. But he was too slow. Woo-Jin moved with a speed that defied human perception, a blur of motion in the darkness, closing the distance before the shooter could even fully bring his weapon to bear.

If there's a way

I'll find that way

Woo-Jin grabbed the shooter's arm, deflecting the gun's aim. The bullet ricocheted off the wall, leaving a small, insignificant mark. With his other hand, Woo-Jin plunged the beetle knife into the shooter's back, three times, precisely where his back and neck met.

And then this fool will rush right in

The shooter went limp, but Woo-Jin held him upright. "You're still alive," Woo-Jin whispered, his voice a low, menacing growl. "I made sure of that." He grabbed the shooter by the collar, his eyes burning with a cold intensity. "Where are your buddies, huh?"

Put your head on my shoulder

Whisper in my ear, baby

The song continued to play, its sweet melody a chilling counterpoint to the violence. Woo-Jin released the shooter, letting his body fall to the floor with a dull thud. He walked over to the low wall that bordered the building and leaned against it, his gaze fixed on the building across the way.

Words I want to hear, baby

Mi-Yong was still dancing, her movements as fluid and graceful as a black swan. He shook his head, a wry look playing on his face. "Hey, Black Swan!" he called out, his voice echoing through the empty space. "You gonna come over here?!"

Put your head on my shoulder

Hold me tight, hold me tight

Mi-Yong stopped, her back still facing him, her arms bent gracefully in the air. She turned her head, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. She turned fully, leaning against her own low wall. "I'm good over here!" she shouted back, her voice laced with amusement. "Finish up and come join me!"

Oh darling, kiss me tonight

Woo-Jin sneered. "Like hell!" He turned back to the lifeless body of the shooter, his gaze hardening. He had unfinished business.

Put your lips next to mine, dear

Won't you kiss me once, baby?

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the continued strains of the song and the soft padding of Woo-Jin's boots as he moved to examine the shooter once more.

Just a gentle kiss, goodnight

╭──╯ . . . . .