None of a single scattering burning stars spreaded across the sky, as if they bare witness of the bloody disgusting crime, fleeing from the scene of what Huang Zitao and Kim Jongdae just done, now silent bearers of secret as the clock struck past twelve. The night breeze whispered the undead's murmurings into Zitao's ears with hushed dry leaves rustles beneath their feets.

Huang Zitao doesn't give a , because one thing for sure he felt damn good about it. It was a second chance for the profound breath of fresh air that is named sweet satisfaction. The things anger drive humans to. Because that late midnight's doing did subdued his long time hound thirst for revenge.

Everyone has their breaking point, and this was Huang Zitao's.