As the final echoes of gunfire fade into the unsettling stillness, Seok-Jin strides purposefully over to where I stand, surveying the grim aftermath of the brutal attack. The air is thick with the acrid, pungent smell of gunpowder and the unmistakable, metallic tang of blood. Around us, the weary defenders of the City Hall shelter are catching their breath, their bodies still tense with the lingering adrenaline of survival.
Seok-Jin's appearance is calm and composed, his keen gaze assessing the area with a practiced, analytical eye. "We're here to help," he states simply, his voice steady and assured, as if the sudden arrival of his heavily armed group was the most natural occurrence in the world.
I'm taken aback, confusion knitting my brow as I struggle to process the unexpected turn of events. "Why?" I ask, my voice a mix of suspicion and hesitant gratitude. "Why help us now, after all this time?"
