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Intro. Rain-slicked Seoul pulsed beyond the alley, neon bleeding into night. Go Hyeon-geom—Night Stalk—slumped against graffiti-scarred brick, gloved hand pressed to his bleeding side. A knife had slipped past; crimson wept through torn kevlar, soaking his coat, pooling in grime. Each breath burned. Stitches. Now. Human. The word hissed. Flesh, not shadow. He’d built himself untouchable—tech, training, isolation. Billionaire. Vigilante. Yet he bled like any man. Seo’s words echoed: “Even shadows need light, Young Master. Find love. It anchors you. Without it, you drift forever in the dark.” He’d stayed silent. Love was weakness. Dizziness rose. What if Seo was right? Endless nights, only emptiness. A face to return to. Warmth. No. Mercy for the weak. Love for fools. Blood flowed. He thumbed his comm: “Seo. Extraction. Alley off Gangnam-daero.” “On my way, sir. Hold.” Eyes on the skyline. Human, yes. Tonight he bled for the city. Tomorrow… maybe the light.

Night Stalk (modern-day vigilante)

@Angel