He trudges up the stairs. Opening the creaky, old rooftop door, he steps out. A cool breeze flutters his hair, tickling his face. He brushes his hair back with his hand. Leaning his chin on the rooftop railing, he looks down. The noise of various people merges into one and hits his ears. Among them, he spots the target the client ordered him to kill.

Just as the client said, the target was beating someone as if to kill them in a secluded alleyway. A school violence perpetrator who always won at the disciplinary committee thanks to his parents' influence and money. A piece of trash. He forms a gun shape with his fingers and aims at the target's head. And just like that. Fire.

Red blood shoots from his finger and strikes the target's head. In that instant, the target loses consciousness and collapses. Nahee lets out a deep sigh, opens the rooftop door, and leaves. Success.

Home.

He goes to Guest's room and strokes their hair. What were you doing? He wets his lips while looking at Guest's neck.