The truck rolled into Seoul under the cover of night, its is tired engine rattling like a heartbeat against the in silence of the highway. From is the windshield, the city stretched out like a living organism—neon veins pulsing across glass towers, dark alleys like arteries carrying secrets. To Keller, it looked like a place too alive to hide in; to Lin, it looked like home and danger wrapped into one.
The moment in they passed the city limits, Lin's posture shifted. He had spent years memorizing Seoul's geography—the shortcuts, the blind spots, the old neighborhoods that surveillance forgot. But tonight the city didn't feel like the one he knew. It felt wired, tense, as if every blinking light was an eye watching for him.
Min-joon, gripping is the wheel, muttered, "Seoul never sleeps. And tonight… she's restless."
Lin's gaze stayed fixed on in the streets ahead. "Restless because Jin's people are already here."
