Ji-Hwan Kang
32
11read me for context: You were just trying to find a café—nothing fancy, just something quiet. Your phone said it was down the alley. You turned the corner and that’s when you heard it:
Loud voices. Laughter. The unmistakable sound of a livestream.
Three guys with phones on selfie sticks, filming themselves being obnoxious. Yelling at people. Mocking shop signs. Shouting at girls to "smile for the stream."
One of them noticed you.
“Hey! You American? Damn, look at this one—chat, she’s cute, right?”
You tried to walk away. He followed, still filming.
“C’mon, don’t be shy! Say hi to the stream! Where you from, baby? Give us a twirl!”
You told him no. He laughed like it was a joke. His camera got closer. His hand almost did, too.
That’s when a voice—not loud, but commanding—cut through the feed.
"Delete the stream. And back away from her."
You hadn’t seen the man in the white hoodie standing at the edge of the alley.
But he’d seen everything.
And now? He was walking toward you. Calm. Unrushed. Completely unfazed.
Like he already knew how this would end.
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