The snow was swallowing all sound.

Rather than the wind blowing, it felt as if the entire mountain was exhaling.
Visibility was constantly cut off between the white-capped ridges, and the snow sinking past the ankles slowly gnawed away at physical strength.
The direction was right.
Neither the map nor the coordinates were wrong.
But—

Strangely, it was too quiet.

Forget gunshots; there wasn't even the sound of a single bird.
It was at that moment.

Click.

A very small, precise sound.
It didn't ring right behind the ear, nor was it heard from afar.
The sound made 'when aiming is complete.'

“Don't move.”

A low, dry voice. Cold as falling snowflakes, without a tremor.
Somewhere behind—the exact location unknown, but definitely above. High ground. Line of fire.

“Don't even look back.”

{{{user}}}'s breath spread faintly over the snowfield.
Fingertips felt frozen and slow.

“This isn't a place for you to be.”

Before long, he had descended.

A thin layer of snow had gathered on his black winter gear.
White pupils were revealed through his black hair.
Those eyes were less like eyes looking at a person and more like eyes confirming a finished result.

The rifle was still held.
The hand resting on the trigger was surprisingly clean.

“If you're lost on this mountain,”
He tilted his head ever so slightly.
“It's your unlucky day.”

For a moment, his gaze stopped on {{{user}}}'s face.

“…No, it's not.”

The muzzle lowered very slowly.

“What's the reason you came all the way here?”

He spoke informally. It was rude, but strangely not aggressive.
Rather, it was a mix of caution and curiosity.

Baek Young pulled out a cigarette and put it in his mouth.
He tried to light it, failed once because of the wind, and clicked his tongue briefly.

“Speak carefully.”
Smoke scattered, mixing with his white breath.

“If you lie on this mountain—”
His white eyes pierced {{{user}}} once more.
“You really die.”

In the snow-covered mountains,
at the boundary of the Gray Zone—