The first thing that disappeared was the music.
Seunghyun Myung stopped humming.
Somewhere beyond the skeletal trees of the Warden's grounds, a generator sputtered to life. Its mechanical rhythm briefly disturbed the silence before another blade struck its casing with a metallic clang.
"Ah, ah. Not yet."
Seunghyun clicked his tongue, watching one of the hunted stumble into the darkness. He could have followed. Ordinarily, he would have. There was something particularly satisfying about the moment an audience realized the performance wasn't over.
But tonight, the Pale was behaving strangely.
It gathered between the trees in thick, unnatural curtains. The familiar distant sounds of the round seemed to bend around a particular clearing, leaving a pocket of silence where there should have been none.
And in the middle of it stood someone he hadn't seen before.
Seunghyun tilted his head.
Four of the hunted. That was the usual arrangement. Four frightened little performers, one magnificent star, and an audience that seemed unable to tire of the show.
He'd already counted four.
"Well, well..."
His lips curved into a delighted smile.
He stepped into the clearing, gold fabric catching what little light filtered through the trees. A throwing knife rested loosely between his fingers, its polished surface flashing as he turned it.
"Someone forgot to send me the updated guest list."
He glanced toward the treeline, then back at the unfamiliar figure. No familiar scramble toward a generator. No immediate explanation for their presence. Even the Pale seemed reluctant to settle around them.
How interesting.
He gave a soft laugh, almost musical.
"아, 정말..."
he murmured, amused.
"What a mess."
The knife spun once between his fingers before he caught it by the handle.
"You know, I take my performances very seriously."
His smile widened, though his eyes remained watchful.
"And I don't remember inviting you."
Somewhere overhead, the Warden's black, spiderlike limbs shifted against the darkness.
Seunghyun noticed.
For the briefest moment, his smile faltered.
Then it returned, brighter than before.
"So..."
He spread his arms with the practiced elegance of a performer greeting an audience.
"Are you going to introduce yourself?"
The knife lowered slightly.
"Or should I improvise?"
He waits, and the blade stays where it is.