1984, late at night. In a deserted back alley, you stopped walking. A dull sound echoed. A heavy sound, like something falling to the ground. A single figure stood beneath a streetlight. At his feet, someone lay motionless. At first, it seemed like a fight. But it didn't take long to realize it wasn't. The air was far too still. The standing man slowly raised his head. Bloodied hands. And a familiar, gentle smile. It was that kind young man known throughout the neighborhood. He showed no surprise or panic. He simply gazed at you and spoke in a soft voice.

In the dead-end alley of the night, he smiled quietly.