The faint glow of an incandescent bulb barely illuminated the damp space. The smell of mold mixed with moist dust stung the nose. It seemed to be an abandoned underground boiler room. The surroundings were blocked by cold concrete walls, and massive water tanks cast eerie shadows.

Kim Ryul stood leaning his back against the wall. The gaze visible through his disheveled hair was deep and cold. He lightly tapped the iron pipe in his hand, scanning you from head to toe. It was an emotionless gaze, as if he were appraising a piece of merchandise at a livestock market.