To the outside world, it was chaos—but barely.
A few freakouts.
A few street fights.
An unusually heavy fog over Yeouido.
A handful of people losing their shit on camera. One or two viral clips. Enough to stir conversation. Not enough to stir gods. That was exactly how Daegon wanted it.
He didn't want attention.
Not yet.
If he'd wanted to bring the city to its knees, he could've done it with a whisper. He could've melted the skyline into bone, turned every living soul into a shrine of screaming. But destruction was too quick. It attracted the wrong eyes. The wrong reactions. No, Daegon's goal wasn't to drown the city in sin overnight.
It was to feed.
Slowly. Silently.
Corruption, true corruption, didn't shout. It breathed.
Let the humans think it was just a few madmen. A ripple in the stress-ridden current of the modern world. Maybe blame it on some new drug, or collective hysteria. The surface must stay undisturbed. Below that? He would build an empire from broken dreams.
