The morning was ordinary.
I was driving to work, just like every other day. The sun was pale, and the streets of the city were quiet. Everything felt normal. My life was simple, predictable... safe. Or so I thought.
I was driving straight when suddenly, a black sedan appeared out of nowhere.
CRASH!
It didn't just hit me; it slammed into my side with terrifying force. My car was pushed violently, skidding across the road until I was pinned against a cold brick wall. The sound of grinding metal and shattering glass was deafening.
Pain.
A sharp, stinging sensation shot through my arm. I looked down to see my sleeve torn, pieces of the window glass embedded in my skin. Blood started to seep out, warm and terrifying. My heart was pounding against my ribs. My head was spinning.
"Wait..." I choked out, trying to catch my breath.
With trembling hands, I tried to look through the cracked window. I wanted to see the driver. I wanted to note the license plate. But before I could see anything, the black car reversed with a screech of tires.
I watched, frozen and blurred by tears, as it sped away into the distance, disappearing as quickly as it had arrived.
My hand was shaking as I fumbled through the debris on the passenger seat. Finally, my fingers brushed against the cold glass of my phone. I didn't even check for cracks. I just dialed the emergency number for the police.
"Please..." I whispered into the receiver, my voice breaking. "I've been hit. A black sedan... please hurry."
The next hour was a blur of flashing lights and the smell of antiseptic. I sat on a hard plastic chair in the hospital, my arm wrapped in thick white bandages.
"Min Yea-ji-ssi?" Two detectives stood over me, their faces grim. "Do you have any enemies? Does anyone have a reason to hurt you?"
The question felt like a slap.
"Enemies?" I let out a dry laugh. "I'm just an office worker. Everyone I know... they're kind to me. I haven't done anything wrong to anyone. It must have been a mistake."
The detectives exchanged a look and left. I watched them go, feeling a hollow ache in my chest. I had no one to call to pick me up. My parents had been gone for three years now. I was an orphan in a city that didn't care.
Miles away, the air up on the cliff was cold and biting.
A figure stood at the edge, looking down into the dark abyss. They were completely covered—a dark jacket, a low cap, and a mask that hid every inch of their face.
Right next to them stood the black sedan, its front crumpled and stained with silver paint. The mysterious figure didn't hesitate. They placed their gloved hands on the car and gave it one slow, deliberate shove.
The tires lost their grip. The car plummeted through the darkness until a muffled, distant CRUNCH echoed from the bottom of the valley.
In seconds, the only evidence of the crime was gone.
The figure stood there for a moment, watching the smoke rise from the shadows. Then, they turned and walked away into the trees, disappearing as if they had never been there at all.
There was no trace left. No car. No driver.
To be continued in paragraph 02