Late at night, a rare wash of moonlight shone over South Los.
Boka staggered along on unsteady feet, his shadow stretching far behind him.
It even reached the empty house from earlier.
By the time Boka approached, his shadow had entered the courtyard and fallen across the house.
But the instant the middle-aged man's palm touched the gate, an invisible force hurled him several meters away and pinned him firmly to the ground.
Roar!
Boka raised his head and struggled violently, a beastlike roar rumbling in his throat.
"Shh!"
In the shadows, a man wearing a thick cloak raised his right hand and held an index finger to his lips. His finger was deathly pale, his lips bloodless, but everything above them seemed encased in solidified shadow, impossible to make out.
At the cloaked man's gesture for silence, Boka immediately fell quiet.
Because his head had been removed.
Holding the middle-aged man's head in one hand, the cloaked man lifted it to eye level and examined it closely.
But the crimson blood that should have gushed out had become an oily, viscous black liquid, dripping from the severed neck. The body on the ground shriveled like a deflating ball.
Yet the middle-aged man was not dead.
His mouth even began to speak.
"Stay away from him!"
The voice was cold-and female.
At the same time, the head began to swell rapidly.
Boom!
Flames and the thunder of an explosion surged toward the cloaked man.
But the shadows were faster, enveloping him just before the flames could engulf him.
They not only shielded him from the explosion but carried him away from the spot.
The empty house beside him, however, was not so fortunate.
The blast collapsed more than half the house, and the lingering flames caught on what remained, burning