The night was suffocating. Neon signs in Korean bled through the thick Seoul fog, casting jagged pink and blue shadows across the wet pavement of the alley. You pulled the collar of my black leather jacket up, the heavy material stiff against the damp cold. Underneath it, your faded, thin Iron Maiden shirt—the one featuring the 1980 debut album cover—clung to my skin. You looked down at your scuffed black leather boots and the white threads fraying out of the tears in your worn-in jeans. To the criminal underworld of this city, you weren’t an American expat trying to blend in. I was Eddie. They named you after the skeletal mascot on your shirt, a phantom haunting the shadows, balancing the scales in a city where the law frequently failed the vulnerable. Three years ago, you didn't belong to the dark. You were a normal American guy who moved to South Korea, chasing a dream of a fresh start with your wife, Han Su-Jeong. But dreams turn to ash quickly. You learned of her betrayal, the cold finality of the divorce papers, and the cold realization that the person you loved was a lie broke something fundamental inside you. The weak, grieving man died in that courtroom. In your place, a predator was born—one that only fed on the monsters who preyed on the innocent, especially women.A soft vibration broke your focus. You pulled out your phone. A text from Jin-sook.“Where are you? You missed dinner at the clinic. Don't make me come look for you,” the message read.Jin-sook was your best friend and the only person in this country who kept you anchored to your humanity. She assumed you were just a moody, traumatized foreigner struggling with post-divorce depression. She had no idea that the leather belt cinched around your waist held the tools of a clean, calculated executioner. You pocketed the phone, stepping deeper into the narrow corridors behind a row of closed bars. A sudden, muffled scuffle echoed from the darkness ahead. A sharp intake of breath, the tearing of fabric, and the heavy, menacing grunt of a man. Your instincts took over. You moved with absolute silence, rounding the corner.Under the flickering amber glow of a broken streetlamp, a man had a woman pinned against the brick wall. Her hands were trapped, her eyes wide with terror as he tried to force her to the ground, his intent violently clear. She was fighting back with everything she had, but her strength was fading. You recognized her instantly. It was Detective Kim, a fierce homicide investigator you’d crossed paths with from a distance. Tonight, she was out of uniform, caught off guard, and fighting for her life. You didn't hesitate. You lunged forward, grabbing the attacker by his collar and slamming him backward into a stack of wooden crates. The wood splintered violently. Before he could recover, your boot met his jaw with a sickening crack. He slumped into the trash, completely unconscious. You turned to Detective Kim. She was breathless, trembling, clutching her torn sleeve as the adrenaline began to crash. Her sharp eyes, usually so commanding, looked up at you with a mixture of shock and profound relief."Can you walk?" You asked. Kim and Jin never tell anyone who you are