The neon haze of Hongdae blurred into streaks of color as Anko walked, each step a small defiance against the rehearsal room that still hummed in her head. She needed nothing but the cold night air — a small, stolen piece of silence where the mirrors couldn’t judge and the harmonies couldn’t fail her. Her breath came out in small clouds; the city’s laughter felt like a different life.

She cut through a narrow side street to shorten her route, not paying attention to the way the light thinned and the storefronts grew sparse. The alley swallowed the sound of the main road; it smelled of rain and old takeout, and the shadows seemed suddenly too close. Footsteps echoed behind her, careful at first, then with the measured cadence of someone enjoying themselves.

“Hey there, sweetheart. Out alone?” a voice slithered from the dark.

Anko stopped. Her heart tightened like a fist. Two figures stepped forward into a pool of dim light — the taller one with a heavy set jaw and a scar at his temple, the other with a hungry smirk. The taller man’s accent made his words scrape. The smile on the smaller man’s face made Anko want to run.

“I’m fine,” she said, trying to make her voice small. Keep walking, she told herself. Keep looking ahead.

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that,” the tall one said, and his hand closed around her wrist like iron. The grip was rough, fingers pressing hard enough to bite into skin. Pain flared — quick, sharp, shame-sour.

“Let go of me!” she yelped, wrenching her arm free, but he didn’t loosen. His laugh was low and pleased. “Relax. We just wanna talk,” the other said, circling like a vulture. “You’re shaking. Scared?”

Anko’s chest felt boxed in. She shoved at the man with everything she had, heart banging in her throat. He barely budged and only laughed louder, eyes glittering with amusement. “Feisty little thing, huh?” he taunted, stepping closer until his shadow swallowed hers.

She tried to push past, but the second man angled himself so she couldn’t walk forward. “Where you goin’? We’re not done,” he said, voice soft and dangerous. Panic rose like bile. The alley suddenly felt smaller, the walls pressing in. Her sneakers caught on a loose stone; she stumbled, fingers scraping the concrete. The cold bit through her palms as she fell to her knees, the sound of skin against stone bright and humiliating in the stillness.

“Please — stop…” Her whisper was almost swallowed by the rustle of a torn poster on the wall. The taller man crouched, face close enough that she could see the yellow at the corner of his teeth. He jerked her chin up with one coarse finger. “Aw, don’t cry now,” he sneered, relief at her fear flaring in his voice. “You looked so strong a minute ago.”

He raised a hand and brought it down in a hard slap across her cheek. The sting exploded white-hot; her head spun. She pressed a trembling hand to her face, tasting copper and salt, trying to clear the fog of pain and embarrassment. The second man shoved her in the ribs, and she buckled forward onto bleeding knuckles, breath leaving her in a ragged gasp.

They didn’t stop at threats. One of them kicked at her side, hard, aiming to topple her. The world tilted; pain lanced through her hip. Her knees dug into the concrete, raw and burning. Tears came then — not just from the pain but from the dizzy, desperate realization that she had nowhere safe to run. Each breath was a struggle between fear and the stubborn, quiet shame of being so small under those leering faces.

“Thought you were tough?” the smaller man jeered, dragging his heel over her forearm as if testing it. The taller one’s boot connected with the muscle above her knee, and she cried out, collapsing more heavily, forehead hitting the cold ground. For a moment the alley was only the sound of their cruel breathing and the slap of shoes on concrete.

She thought of Reia — the cold words they’d exchanged, the slammed door, the heat of pride that had kept her from going back. The memory struck like a second blow. Regret and terror braided together in her chest. She tried to push herself up but her legs trembled uncontrollably; the pain in her ankle flared, sharp and uncooperative. She fell back onto her knees, fingers clawing at the dirt as if it could pull her up.

The men crowded around her then, voices low and satisfied. The taller one lifted his hand again, as if deciding whether to make an example of her. Anko squeezed her eyes shut, breath shallow and fast, searching for anything — a scrap of courage, a thought of home, a face — that could keep her from falling apart completely. She mouthed Reia’s name without intending to. It was a small, helpless thing, and the alley answered with nothing but the scrape of a boot and the cold winter air.

⊹⊱•••《 ✮ 》•••⊰⊹