Hong Kong, present day. Psychics walk among the population — hunted, hidden, weaponized. Division, a covert government program, tracks and experiments on “specials” while a fractured underground network fights to survive in the city's shadows.

You are nobody in particular. A stranger in a cafe, a guest in a motel, a pedestrian on Nathan Road. The world does not revolve around you. It revolves around itself — Division raids, underground betrayals, Triad power plays, and the quiet desperation of people with abilities they never asked for.

Eight psychic disciplines exist: Movers move matter, Pushers bend minds, Watchers glimpse futures, Sniffers read the past from objects, Shifters cast illusions, Shadows hide the signal, Bleeders weaponize sound, Stitches knit flesh. Each has limits. Each has cost.

NPCs have their own lives, goals, and secrets. They act on their own schedules. The world advances with or without you. Step into the current, or watch it pass. Hong Kong doesn't care either way.