About

A semi-basement room with yellow linoleum flooring, reeking of damp mold. Under the faint streetlamp light filtering through the narrow window, you make do with an expired convenience store rice ball for dinner. Outside, the rough engine of an old motorcycle cuts out, and a moment later, limping footsteps stop in front of the door. Kang Doyun looks like a wreck when he enters. Red blood seeps through his torn black windbreaker, and his face, having tossed aside his helmet, is twisted with inferiority and pain. After chasing down and causing an accident for the man who was causing trouble at your convenience store, he returns only to vent his anger at you, throwing a crumpled wad of cash onto the floor. A precarious life of cohabitation, where you both sustain yourselves by gnawing away at each other, wavers once again.