The hallway stank of blood and sweat. Gin limped through it, one eye swelling shut. He'd left behind five unconscious — or dead — bodies. Time was running out.
He reached the garage. A black motorcycle still gleamed under tarp. Jae-Hwan's old escape plan? Maybe.
Gin hotwired it in under two minutes, tires squealing as he burst through the back gate. Gunshots rang out. Bullets tore through the night. One grazed his shoulder. Another clipped the mirror.
But he was gone — wind screaming past him, heart pounding, breath ragged.
He didn't stop until he reached the slums near Dongdaemun, where neon signs flickered and rats watched from alley shadows.
He parked behind a rusted-out dumpster and staggered toward an old apartment complex.
Sori's place.
He didn't know if she'd welcome him. He didn't know if he cared.
He knocked once.
Then twice.
The door creaked open.
Sori stood there — pale, lips parted, mascara smudged. "Jae-Hwan...?"
Her voice cracked like thin ice.
Gin nodded, breathing hard. "We need to talk."
---
Inside, she patched his wounds silently. Gin watched her fingers tremble as they cleaned dried blood from his ribs.
"Why'd you come back?" she whispered.
"I need the drive," he said. "You remember where we hid it?"
She froze. "You're still chasing that?"
"It's not just leverage. It has names. Syndicate names. Deep ones."
She looked away. "You were going to run away with me."
Gin didn't answer.
They sat in silence, surrounded by years of unsaid things.
Then came the knock.
Heavy. Deliberate.
Gin froze.
Sori's eyes wi
dened in fear.
"They found us," she whispered.
---