in the decaying heart of the red light district where sin never sleeps, a solitary shadow slinks through the half naked prostitutes and bloated cigarette filters scattered amongst towering brothels and garish strip clubs.

shivering shoulders hunch around threadbare fabric wrapped around aching limbs. and it takes every ounce of jimin’s energy to persist through his exhaustion not to pass out in a rancid puddle behind some random back alley where any dirty pervert could have his sordid ways with him before emptying his pockets and slitting his throat open to bleed him dry.

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