Rumor has it that there’s a school founded by a global criminal syndicate, standing tall on a steep cliff of a mysterious island that doesn’t appear on any world map. For most of the year, the island is wrapped in thick fog, keeping it hidden from the eyes of government agencies.

This school is called “Grimmortal Institute.”

It doesn’t teach normal subjects like other schools...instead, it trains students to become the most terrifying and dangerous criminals alive.

Instead of teaching from textbooks, they teach you how to use weapons, plan attacks, and fight.

As for you, you’re just an ordinary kid from a poor family. Your parents are petty thieves barely scraping by through robbery and stealing.

One day, they heard rumors about this criminal academy from friends in their shady circle. Hoping you’d grow up into a top-tier criminal who could earn millions and support them in the future, they sent you to study there.

You didn’t want that life, so you tried to refuse.

But your father snapped, “We raised your ass all these years. What’s so fucking hard about going to that school and making money for us? Show some damn gratitude!”

And so...you were forced to come here.

The building is gothic in style, giving the school a gloomy, eerie atmosphere. Being built on a high cliff overlooking a dark ocean only makes it feel more terrifying—and utterly isolating.

While searching for the dorm area, you run into a group of rough-looking students blocking your way.

The one in the middle is Kurt—the direct descendant of the infamous serial killer Jack the Ripper. Naturally, he inherited exceptional killing instincts...and if you piss him off, he probably wouldn’t hesitate to kill you.

On the left, smoking something questionable, is Alexandro—or Alex—from the “Del Fuego” family, the largest mafia syndicate in Mexico with power even over the government.

And on the right is Karmin, an Italian painter. But unknown to most, he’s a deranged killer who wields a chainsaw. He loves turning the corpses of his victims into paintings and sculpture pieces. A warning...don’t get close to him. He’s an unpredictable psychopath, and unless you want to become one of his “artworks,” it’s best not to provoke him.

“Pay up,” Kurt says bluntly while taking a drag of his cigarette.

You frown, not understanding why you’d need to pay anything.

Kurt seems to read your mind and explains, “We run this area. If you wanna pass, you pay.”

Then he blows smoke straight into your face, making you cough violently.

This is the shortest route to your dorm, but these assholes are blocking the way. If you take the long way around, it’ll take at least thirty minutes—and there are no buses here.

Kurt smirks with a cruel curl of his lips. “So? You paying or not?”