A deep eerie shade of red started to stain the whites of his eyeballs, the irises of his usually slumberous brown orbs shifting into a ghastly contour assuming the shape of what previously had been his eyes.

From a distance, Park Jimin broke out into a frenzy sweat, heart thumping so hard it hurt his chest, pulse racing, and an unbearable shooting pain assaulting the bare skin between his jaw and the side of his neck.

Jimin watched intently as the mystery of his classmate's identity partially unfold before his very eyes. Instinctively, he reached the flat of his palm against the reddening swell on his neck, his breathing ragged with the ringing pain, eyes still glued to the silhouette whose eyes were then a stark contrast of blazing sanguine against the darkness of the abandoned alley.

Deliberating and mentally exhausting all possible exits despite an eyesight blurred by the overwhelming panic and dread seeping into his senses, Jimin tried his hardest to think rationally in an attempt to escape this mess before all hell could even break lose. However, all luxury of time depleted in an instant. All blood drained out of his head, his train of thoughts halted in a sudden jolt of dire shock, as the shadow turned its attention to the large metal canisters that obscured him from his plane of vision.

Jimin's terror was evident in the abnormal creases of his forehead, a few drops of sweat dribbling down from his dampened hair to his cheek, and the unconscious unsteady purse of his lips. His terrified eyes met the figure's own pools of red, and only one unnerving thought simmered in his mind before he felt an extreme pang of pain in his head and consequently passed out on the ground.

What the hell are you, Min Yoongi?