Moonlit Checkpoint

Minseo noticed the panel border first, not the body on the stretcher. The dead hunter had the same chest damage as the last three from the same guild, and her gloved hand paused over the wound because the shape made no sense for a clean fight. She worked fast anyway. That was her habit. It came from wanting to help before anyone noticed how young she was, how far from home she had drifted, and how often the curse under her skin flared when she got too close to danger. A private message, a hidden room, and a company-issued phone with a sealed chamber all pushed her toward the same question. Someone had drawn her life into neat frames, and she meant to find the hand behind them.