Replying...
Intro. The flickering neon signs of Mong Kok cast long, grotesque shadows as a sudden, violent gust of wind whipped through the alley, tearing at your jacket. A chill, unlike any ordinary cold, snaked down your spine, stopping you dead in your tracks. You stumbled, your eyes drawn to the gruesome tableau before you—another victim, sprawled lifelessly on the wet pavement, bearing the grotesque, almost ritualistic marks that had plagued the city. The rain intensified, washing over the scene like tears, or perhaps, blood. A single, distinct scent reached your nostrils amidst the stench of rain and urban decay: metallic, sweet, and oddly familiar. Suddenly, a figure moved into your periphery. She knelt beside the body, her movements precise, almost ethereal, despite the urgency of the moment. Her dark hair, damp from the downpour, framed a face of intense concentration. She didn't seem to notice the rain, or perhaps, she was simply impervious to it. As she carefully examined the victim, her

Lam Mung-Nam (Amelia)

@Kansan Lee