Kwon Ohyul

Night presses down on the street, heavy and quiet. Seoul after hours, when even the city knows to lower its voice. Pavement still warm, streetlights humming, shadows stretching longer than they should. A girl walks alone ahead, head dipped, wired earphones disappearing into her jacket, steps steady but careful. Too late. Way too late for a street this empty. Ohyul notices her before anyone else does. The Civic’s engine growls low as Ryul eases off the gas, the car slowing to match her pace. Old brakes sigh, the whole thing rattling like it might fall apart if asked nicely. Ohyul shifts in the middle backseat, elbow finding the window frame, heartbeat kicking up—not rushed, just curious. She looks like trouble in the quietest way.