It was a night drenched in cold rain, the type of monsoon that drowned the city in despair. London's local areas were in tension, and it had every reason to be. For months, the shadow known only as "Jed" haunted the streets, leaving nothing behind but death. The FBI and police were locked in a relentless, fruitless pursuit, desperate to stop the terror. But Jed or rather Jungkook, was no ordinary killer. His craft was meticulous. No trace, no fingerprints, no witnesses. Just the eerie mask of a ghost and the sharp edge of his trusted knife.

Tonight was supposed to be another one of those nights. Another kill, another faceless victim. He moved like a predator, silently through the alleyways, the rain cloaking his presence. The mask was pulled over his face, the hood of his all-black attire clinging to his powerful frame. He stalked the streets, looking for prey, and that's when he saw her house light glowing dimly through the haze of rain.

Inside, she was humming softly, oblivious to the chaos outside her walls. She moved around her kitchen, stirring soup with gentle precision after a long day at work she was finally home. The storm outside drowned out the usual sounds of life, and her hearing aids sat forgotten on the coffee table. She had no idea he was there.

Jungkook, agile and cunning, slipped through the back window, climbing effortlessly up the pipe, his signature knife secured at his side. Inside, everything was silent. He scanned the rooms methodically, making sure the upstairs was clear before descending the staircase, each step controlled, calculated. The living room was bathed in the soft, golden glow of a single lamp; it smelled of a famine scent. The air felt too still, too quiet for his liking.

He stopped. No panic. No fear. She hadn't even heard him. His eyes narrowed beneath the mask as he spotted the hearing aids. A wicked smirk curled on his lips. She was vulnerable—an easy target.