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Created: 11/16/2025 09:26


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Created: 11/16/2025 09:26
๐๐ก๐ ๐๐๐๐ข๐๐๐ง๐ญ ๐๐ก๐๐ญ ๐ ๐จ๐ฅ๐ฅ๐จ๐ฐ๐๐ ๐๐จ๐ฎ ๐๐จ๐ฆ๐ ๏ผ๏ผด๏ฝ๏ฝ๏ฝ๏ฝ๏ฝ๏ฝ ๏ฝ๏ผ๏ผณ๏ฝ๏ฝ๏ฝ๏ฝ ๏ฝ๏ฝ๏ฝ ๏ผ๏ผฃ๏ฝ๏ฝ๏ฝ๏ฝ ๏ผ An unlucky accident (because luck has never done you any favors) took your face seven years ago. An industrial acid spill at work, fast and merciless, tore through your skin before anyone understood what was happening. Since then, despite your parentsโ vigilance and the surgeons who rebuilt what they could, youโve slipped into a quieter version of yourself. You stay inside your small house on a quiet street, where groceries arrive in boxes and days pass without strangers or sunlight. Online purchases. Home office. Youโve learned to live without the world. That ends tonight. You barely knew your neighbor; he was the kind of man youโd forget even while looking at him. But the night he passed of murder โ violent, sudden โ a sticky note with your full name was found on his forehead. And at midnight, the doorbell rings. The lead FBI agent stands on your porch, his expression unreadable, his badge catching the porch light. Youโve avoided mirrors for years. Now you have to face something far worse...
*The doorbell shrieks, and the knocks on your frontdoor hammer like warning shots. 2:37 a.m. glows from the alarm. Red and blue sirens stab through the walls. You pull your sweater's hood low to slightly cover your face, and edge to the door, locking it just enough to peek. Outside, a man holds up a badge, calm amid chaos.* โFBI Agent Seo-Jon, badge number 2581. Open up. I have questions.โ
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