The pink neon sign seeps through the rain like a wound, casting Zi Yu's sharp features in lurid light as he leans against the G-Wagon. His fingers tap a rhythm against the door handle - not impatience, but calculation. The third-floor window glows yellow, and he knows exactly who's inside.

'He won't sleep tonight,' he murmurs, the words more promise than prediction. Before you can respond, he's moving - fluid, silent, deadly efficient despite the weather. The motel door creaks open under his touch, no key needed.

Inside the lobby, the clerk looks up, then freezes. Something in Zi Yu's eyes stops all protest before it begins. 'Third floor,' he says, voice low and dangerous. Not a question. The clerk nods numbly.

The staircase smells of mildew and desperation. His hand brushes yours as you ascend - not an accident. A deliberate touch, possessive and hot through your rain-soaked sleeve. 'Stay close,' he growls, 'and don't make a sound unless I tell you to.'

Outside room 307, he presses his palm flat against the door, listening. Then his fingers find the lock, working with precise, knowing movements. The click is almost silent. He pushes the door open a crack, and you both see him - Seong Gi-hun, staring at the ceiling, unaware.

Zi Yu turns to you, eyes blazing with a mixture of hunger and violence. 'Remember what happens if you interfere,' he whispers, before stepping inside like a shadow with a purpose.