The city was never truly dark. Even at four in the morning, Seoul pulsed with scattered lights—taxi headlights slicing through damp asphalt, neon signs buzzing faintly, convenience stores glowing like lonely lanterns. The safehouse basement felt stale, the single bulb flickering against cracked concrete. Lin sat hunched on the edge of a crate, eyes fixed on a map he had spread across the floor.
Every street, every alley, every subway line mattered. Seoul was a labyrinth, and tonight it was alive with hunters.
"We leave in ten," Lin said quietly, rolling the map back into a tight cylinder. His voice carried calm finality, the tone that left no room for argument.
Keller stretched his shoulders, muttering, "You mean we leave in ten to walk straight into the lion's den."
"No," Lin corrected, his dark eyes sharp. "We leave in ten to vanish before the lion wakes."
