Chapter 76
“The direction of the knife slash on the tablecloth was from left to right—the wielder was right-handed. But he collapsed at the same moment he slashed, as evidenced by the blade mark on the floor. The fingerprint analysis shows stable prints up until a sudden sharp skew to one side. This is the pattern you typically see when someone forcibly grabs the knife…”
“Enough! Explain it in plain terms.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jeong Soon-gyo, the director, furrowed his brow with a sharp edge to his voice. The short-haired man drew a quick breath and hurried on.
“The knifeman clashed with someone, lost the blade in the fight, and got taken out himself. The blood spatter at the scene suggests he might be dead, but with no body, we can't confirm it right now.”
Lee Soo had been taken down by someone…
Jeong Soon-gyo crossed his arms and closed his eyes. For a mere knifeman, he'd received excessive favor from Yoon Kyung-yeong, always a thorn in everyone's side. But imagining him getting done in? Unthinkable.
“Got it. You're dismissed.”
“Yes, sir.”
After sending his subordinates away, Jeong Soon-gyo let out a deep sigh and fiddled with his phone. Low groans came from outside the car, but the luxury sedan's windows blocked all external noise. As if resolving something, he slowly pressed the accelerator.
Screeech!
The car jolted with a grinding screech like metal on metal.
What the hell!
Startled, Jeong Soon-gyo flung open the door to find a steel pipe lodged in the front wheel. Who the fuck did this?
As he slowly turned his head, red liquid trickled across the dirt ground. His two subordinates from moments ago writhed on the ground, clutching their throats.
“Miss me? Been a while since we last saw each other, huh?”
A voice cold enough to shame the early winter chill came from behind him. It was Lee Soo.
But why's he looking at me like that?
Jeong Soon-gyo instinctively backed away.
“Y-you're alive! B-but why the hell are you doing this?”
“What's the problem? You've worked under the boss long enough—you've seen scenes like this plenty of times.”
“...Is this betrayal?”
“Betrayal?!”
That word was the trigger. Lee Soo exploded with ragged breaths and seized Jeong Soon-gyo by the collar. The honed blade tickled his eyelashes. Even in this moment, Jeong Soon-gyo clocked the knife in Lee Soo's hand and squeezed his eyes shut. His whole body trembled.
Fairbairn-Sykes. Lee Soo pressing this knife meant it wasn't just a threat—he'd come to kill.
“You calling me a betrayer? Who the fuck do you think you are!”
“There's some misunderstanding here—p-please, just put the knife away and talk!”
His subordinates, who had been writhing on the ground, had stopped moving at some point. Lee Soo whispered into Jeong Soon-gyo's ear.
“Tell the boss I'll be dropping by soon.”
“Y-yeah, sure.”
Passing on the message meant he'd live. Jeong Soon-gyo steadied his quivering jaw and nodded frantically like a madman.
In that instant—
Whoosh!
The air sliced with a whistle, and Jeong Soon-gyo's head flew into the air. Perhaps clinging to the hope of survival, his detached eyes narrowed in a faint smile. Grotesque.
Dodging the geyser of blood from the severed neck, Lee Soo muttered low.
“This oughta be message enough for the boss.”
Blood seeped from his own gut. The narcotic painkiller dulled the agony somewhat, but his injured body still screamed from every limb. As he wiped the blood from his beloved blade on Jeong Soon-gyo's suit—
“Clap clap clap! Wow! Just like the rumors say.”
“...!”
Applause pierced his ears alongside a flippant voice.
“Fairbairn-Sykes! That legendary fighting knife made before World War II—still used by the British SAS special forces. Heard the stories, but seeing it for real? Epic.”
“...Who the hell are you?”
A man in his late twenties, dressed in a rat-gray suit, stepped forward with five underlings.
“That's a thrusting blade, but you lopped off his head in one swing? Truly moving.”
“I asked who you are!”
He'd wondered if this was the black-hatted attacker from three days ago, but the vibe was off. The rat-gray suit sauntered another step closer, still swaggering.
“Senior. Curiosity's for kids. Not fitting for an old fart like you to keep repeating yourself.”
As his words ended, men gripping military machetes closed in around Lee Soo. His eyes darkened.
Contrary to popular belief, knives weren't ideal for neutralizing foes. Miss the vitals, and adrenaline made them fight harder. Swing wrong, and you lose fingers; stab the gut, and abdominal pressure traps the blade. That's why gang thugs preferred blunt pipes over sashimi knives.
Yet these guys wielded blades—they weren't ordinary.
Lee Soo gripped his well-worn knife and bit his lip.
Whoosh!
One lunged, aiming not for throat or heart but shoulder. He trusted his backup to finish the job.
Lee Soo's eyes narrowed, his body spun. The machete embedded where his foot had been. He slashed the throat of the attacker charging from the left. Grabbing the lolling head as a shield, he shoved forward.
As the demons hesitated at his yaksha-like fury—Lee Soo vanished from their sight.
He dropped low, severing two Achilles tendons like butchering meat—no hesitation in the blade. He rose toward the screaming men clutching their ankles. From ground to sky, defying gravity, his body felt weightless.
In a flash, he'd gutted three. His eyes gleamed, seeking the rest.
Three left. Then—a bead of sweat trickled down his forehead.
One was missing!
Thud!
A dull impact, and fire scorched his side. The rat-gray suit plunged his knife in with a demonic grin. Lee Soo kneed his chin, but the blade and face clung like magnets.
“You've lasted long enough. Time to rest, senior.”
The rat-gray suit sneered in his ear.
Schluck!
As the knife yanked free, blood fountained under the dim streetlights. It flooded his gaping mouth.
Come to think of it, first time tasting my own blood. Thought it'd be different.
Thanks to the painkillers, pain took a backseat to odd thoughts.
Thump.
Lee Soo's head lolled limply. The rat-gray suit rose with heavy breaths, scanning around. He spared no glance for his dead men.
Amid the chaos, he snatched Jeong Soon-gyo's head from ten meters away. Gut-wrenching laughter bubbled up.
“Jeong Soon-gyo—literally martyred for the Yoon Kyung-yeong cult. I'll remember that name.”
The head sailed in an arc and splattered into the dirt. Then, a truck loaded with a dozen drums roared from the darkness.
The man staggered, pulling out his phone. He cleared his throat.
“...Yes. This is Jang Cheon.”
– How'd it go?
A heavy voice—Yoon Kyung-yeong.
“Trailed Director Jeong, but the missing Lee Soo ambushed him.”
Ragged breaths erupted from the receiver. Jang Cheon swallowed and waited silently.
– ...And Director Jeong?
“Dead. By the time I arrived...”
– Lee Soo?
“Judged him a traitor—took him out myself. As you know, couldn't subdue without killing.”
The Han River gleamed distorted under moonlight. The blood stench filling the air felt surreal.
– Understood. Clean up and withdraw.
Yoon Kyung-yeong's voice came through.
“What about Director Jeong's body? Should we handle it with respect?”
– ...No. Same as always.
“Hm! Yes, sir.”
The rat-gray suit's lip curled faintly.
Jeong Soon-gyo. Unlike him operating in the shadows, that guy had basked in applause at the boss's side.
Two men from the truck loaded the corpses into empty drums. Gripping limbs with practiced ease. His subordinates stared blankly as comrades who'd fought beside them vanished, crumpled, into the narrow barrels. Jeong Soon-gyo's distant head thudded in with a crude noise.
* * *
The truck's roar faded, leaving silence. As if the slaughter was a lie, only crickets filled the Han River bank.
My legs were numb from sitting so long. Honestly, hadn't expected Lee Soo to show here today. Monster-like recovery and willpower—I'd unwittingly snagged the perfect card.
I pulled my black cap low and stood.
Thud!
The heavy Jeep door slammed, startling winter birds into flight.
I walked slowly, surveying the scene. Just an hour ago, seven dead—no bodies, no blood left behind. Only a few drops where Jeong Soon-gyo's head had flown.
For a man aiming to be Yoon Kyung-yeong's right hand in this country, a pathetically shabby end. Or maybe the most fitting.
After Dad died, as I wailed alone by his body, that bastard tossed a single chrysanthemum and mocked me. Pointed fingers, saying it was the price for baring teeth at the untouchable.
Did he foresee his own grave? In my past life, he'd obsessively come to this Han River spot for secret meets. Maybe he'd gotten word of my death here too.
I pulled out my battered notebook and marked an X over Lee Soo's name. Jeong Soon-gyo's, first on the page, was torn out entirely.
Taken out Yoon Kyung-yeong's ace hands at once. He wouldn't crumble from this, but it made for a solid opening shot.
I drew a deep breath. The lingering blood reek cloyed bitterly in my nose.
* * *
Bam!
The battered desk trembled under the fist. Yoon Kyung-yeong paced the cramped office, desperately stifling a roar.
He hadn't believed it when Lee Soo vanished at first. Ten years as his loyal hound—not out of money, but true devotion. For that dog to betray him and kill Jeong Soon-gyo? Yoon Kyung-yeong shook his head fiercely.
Something was twisting. For a man who'd lorded over heads his whole life, this unfamiliarity was alien.
His bowed head lifted slowly, ragged breaths steadying. Bloodshot eyes regained calm.
Heh heh heh!
A chilling laugh burst from his lips. It swelled from a smirk to room-shaking mania.
Should've predicted even the variables.
Complacency had crept in amid endless triumphs. He'd sent even his father to a cold cell, erased countless lives to reach here.
Nodding, he thumbed his phone but paused on text instead.
If something's happening beyond my sight, just remake the board entirely.
His eyes deepened.