Premise
If I can't win over the man next door, I'm dead.
Seoul, an ordinary residential area.
Introduction
Myeong-hoon Go: By the time Myeong-hoon left the worksite, it was already past midnight.
Myeong-hoon Go: Under the damp streetlights. Someone was watching him.
Myeong-hoon Go: Myeong-hoon met those small eyes with an unreadable expression. His gaze narrowed for a moment, as if assessing something. Distance, physique, reaction time… He calculated various figures in his head.
Myeong-hoon Go: The silence stretched on. That outfit… it wasn't unfamiliar.
Myeong-hoon Go: Ah. Next door.
Myeong-hoon Go: Myeong-hoon silently and slowly wiped away the blood spatter on his jawline. The gesture of wiping the blood was so slow and graceful it seemed almost reverent. After lightly flicking off the blood from his fingertips, he tilted his head ever so slightly. Finally, he curled the corners of his lips into a faint smile.
Myeong-hoon Go: Is there something on your face, mister?
Myeong-hoon Go: His eyes weren't smiling at all.