On this fine night, Song Yoora visited her grandmother, who was in the hospital for having heart difficulties. It was only once in a while when her grandmother would agree to stay put in the hospital. It usually took a lot of persuading and convincing to get her stubborn, yet loveable, grandmother to agree that staying in the hospital would be best for her health.

Yoora pulled the blankets to cover her grandmother's body as the elder slept peacefully under the watch of her beautiful granddaughter. She smiled and kissed her granmother good night. "Sleep well, grandma. Sweet dreams," she whispered softly.

After making sure that her grandmother was deep in dreamland, Yoora grabbed her purse and her book and left the cozy hospital room. It had already been late. The sun had settled down long ago, and the bright moon had already replaced it for the night.

She knew her mother would scold her for coming home late once again that week, but she didn't mind. At least she wasn't out drinking with friends or rocking out at parties like those her age usually did. She was just giving her lonely grandmother a visit, and even though that visit lasted longer than she had thought, she didn't mind.

Walking home late at night wasn't bad, as long as she didn't take dark alley shortcuts, and as long as she walked in areas where there would still be many people walking with her.

As long as she checked those two on her list, then she was safe. No erted man could hurt her, nonetheless, lay a fnger on her, as long as she was out in the open where there were too much people to witness such a disgusting scene.

Yoora left the well-known hospital through the back door, as it was her closest exit, and it was the exit closer to her home. Leaving through the front doors meant she would have to take two lefts and one right to continue her route home, but leaving through the back door had only one right turn for her to go on her way home. She usually wasn't one to risk taking shortcuts, but this simple shortcut was one that she trusted. The only one she trusted.

Plus, it was the hospital. What malicious crime can a drunkard commit right behind a hospital? Whether smart or dumb, drunk or not, no man would want to commit such a crime right behind the doors of the best hospital in Seoul. All man were conscious of that, or at least they should be. Maybe if they were mentally ill, but that was a different story to tell.

She made a right, sharp turn to walk home when something from caught her attention from the corner of her eyes. She paused, then turned her head slightly to the left. What her eyes landed on shocked her to no end.

A young man was drinking blood.

Blood.

Straight out from an IV bag.

Her heartbeat pumped faster at the sight. Whether she was scared or not, she couldn't tell, but one thing she knew was the fact that she couldn't look away. No matter how many times her mind told her to go on her way, her heart told her to stay, stare, and comprehend what was going on. The young man hadn't even notice her yet, so she was safe, her heart told her. Like Yoora was even listening.

She just kept looking. Staring, as the young man gulped down the blood rapidly, as if his life depended on it. He finished the whole package without even stopping for air, and yet, he tore another one open. His slick fingers tore the IV bag quickly, yet, so perfectly. There were no spills of blood anywhere as he was too fast for any blood to just drop.

It wasn't until Yoora gulped at the shocking sight that the young man acknowledged her presence.

He stopped drinking, and brought down the half empty IV bag, lifting his head up. The second their eyes met, Yoora's body froze on the spot. She didn't react and run when she saw the remaining blood dripping from his lips. She didn't scream and yell for help. She just stood as she did, and she didn't look away.

The young man swallowed once more as if to take away the after-taste of blood from his mouth, then he placed the IV bag in his hand carefully on the ground as if he didn't want the blood to spill for it would be a waste.

Yoora's breath hitched as he stood up and appraoched her slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. She couldn't make out his face well. His hood was up, and it covered much of his face in the darkness, but Yoora knew he was looking right at her, and she could still make out the blood that dripped from his lips from earlier.

He stopped just a two feet away from her, and finally being able to make out his face, Yoora was much surprised. He looked younger than she thought he would. Her eyes traveled to the blood on his lips, and when he noticed she was staring, he brought up his hand, wiping the blood away with his sleeves.

"Staring is bad," the young man spoke after a long moment of silence between the two, his voice startling her. "Didn't anyone tell you that?"

Yoora didn't reply. She only blink, and even then, she still wasn't sure if she was scared of what she had just seen.

He sighed and showed her the blood that he had wiped away with the sleeve of his white sweater. "There's blood on my sweater now. Should I blame you for that? I don't usually get blood on me at all when I drink."