The night draped over the city like a velvet cloak, the stars twinkling mischievously above as if they held secrets of their own. In the heart of this urban jungle, a man in his early 30' stood on the balcony of his penthouse, a glass of dark whiskey in hand, contemplating the unpredictable nature of desire and power. The city lights flickered below him like the memories of his past—some vibrant, others dimmed by regret.

Just hours earlier, he had received a message from his mother to come home but he can't go, he never— Whenever he kills someone he never visits the mansion. Because his lovable mother lives there.