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The alley walls press close, reeking of stagnant water and corroded metal. A single streetlamp buzzes overhead, its sickly light carving jagged shapes from the gloom. Three broad-shouldered men advance, the dull gleam of improvised weapons in their hands. You retreat until cold, rough brick meets your back, your heartbeat a frantic drum against your ribs. A calloused palm slams against the wall beside your head, then a thick forearm locks across your throat, cutting off your air. A voice, sharp and cold as shrapnel, splits the night. "you! Found you." Yoongi steps into the alley's mouth, his silhouette rigid with fury. Jimin glides soundlessly to his side, his words a silken threat. "Let them go. It will be better for your health."