Chapter 115
Chapter 115
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 115
Chapter Title: To Be Someone's Hope (5)
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Rat-tat-tat!
The spray of bullets started at his chest and stitched its way up to his head.
Rat-tat-tat-tat! Rat-tat-tat!
The second man went down the same way, as did the third.
Like the first worm to rise getting eaten by the bird, the men at the front were all cut down, forcing the rest of the gang to dive for cover behind a car.
Tense faces.
Four men remained, their faces sharing the same tense expression. They had no idea who would dare to challenge them like this.
“Don’t tell me it’s...”
“No. They said they’d kill that bastard.”
“What if they failed?”
“I said no, fuck!”
The fear that it might be Kanghyeok behind them quickly spread among the men.
Then, one of them, with extreme caution, peeked his head out from behind the car.
Rat-tat-tat-tat!
He collapsed, blood spraying from his head.
The sight of blood spreading on the ground startled them, and they began shoving each other’s backs.
“Go on, get out there!”
“Shut up! Are you trying to get me killed?!”
The relatively weaker one was shoved out from behind the car as if thrown, and he screamed, firing his gun wildly.
But he didn’t hit anything, and surprisingly, he wasn’t killed either.
Did they run away? Or run out of ammo?
The men slowly rose to their feet, glancing at the dented rear of the car.
Click.
A faint metallic sound came from behind.
There was no time to turn their heads.
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
Shredded by the continuous burst of submachine gun fire, the men fell like a row of dominoes.
Most were killed instantly by bullets to the head, but one man alone was not granted a swift death, his neck pierced through.
“Gack, gurgle.”
Clutching his throat as blood spurted out, the gasping man looked up at the person who shot him.
And his face twisted as if he had seen the grim reaper himself, come to guide him to hell.
The monstrous woman who’d been with Kanghyeok.
That woman was still in this city.
‘Fuck, this is bullshit.’
With the thought that as long as she was here, his fate had been sealed from the start, the man let out a pained breath.
“Gurgle.”
Rat-tat-tat!
After shooting the man in the head, Leila scanned the area, replaced her magazine, and headed toward the church.
Drip, drop.
Warmth spreading in the cold air.
The blood dripping to the floor was Yohan's.
Yohan, who had grabbed the handguard and pushed it aside just before the gun fired, saw the man trembling like an aspen leaf.
“Hic, gasp.”
Terrified, the man tried to pull the gun from Yohan's grasp.
But Yohan held the gun even tighter, rubbing the bridge of his bleeding nose with his other hand.
The skin was split, and it didn't look like the bleeding would stop anytime soon.
A graze from a bullet is different from a knife cut; it's more likely to leave a scar.
The one who shot was clearly not a gang member.
He was a local resident who had hidden here to escape the gangs, someone who had resolved to help with the evacuation from the start.
And this person had aimed for his head without a second thought.
It was a situation where he had every right to be angry.
But Yohan managed a smile, albeit a forced one, as if to reassure him.
“It's okay. I'm not with the gangs.”
“H-how can I believe you!”
Yohan put a finger to his lips, signaling for quiet, then showed the pistol in his hand.
“Gasp!”
“If I were with the gangs, I would have shot you.”
Yohan gave the man a small shake of his head, and the man, though still wary, began to lower his gun.
Sensing he wouldn't attack again, Yohan let go of the gun. The man took a large step back, then his face twisted in shock and confusion as he looked at Yohan's face.
“Damn it, you’re... you’re that kid.”
“You know me?”
“That woman's son.”
Yohan flinched, but then nodded, realizing there was no contempt in the man's voice.
“Did you come here to take shelter too?”
“No.”
“Then...?”
It was then.
Bang!
A sound came as if the supermarket door had been kicked open.
“Shh.”
Yohan covered the man's mouth and peered into the supermarket through the small warehouse window.
‘It's the gangs...’
Click.
Three men who entered the supermarket scanned the area with flashlights.
“Are you sure this is the place? I've got a bad feeling about this.”
“You saw the car stop here too.”
“There's no one here.”
It was chilling.
Not because they were gang members, nor because they were holding pistols.
It was because of the ears hanging one by one from their jean chains.
The ears, which appeared to belong to their victims, numbered at least five and as many as ten per man.
Whoosh!
The beam of their flashlight narrowly missed the window.
Then it moved to the floor, and the men exchanged glances.
It seemed they had found footprints on the floor.
Like hunters who'd found their prey in a trap, they began to approach the warehouse, radiating a thick mix of bloodlust and excitement.
“Hhup, hhup.”
The man whose mouth was covered trembled with fear.
Yohan took his hand away, signaling him to be quiet, and stood beside the door with his pistol ready.
Click.
Beside the slowly turning doorknob, Yohan took short breaths through his nose.
‘Why am I here?’
The sudden thought bound his entire body like chains.
To fight?
No.
That's just the means.
There's something more fundamental.
Creeak.
Through the slightly open door, he could see the beam of a flashlight and a hand, caked with dried black blood, gripping the doorknob.
‘I...’
Yohan unconsciously glanced back at the man.
He was terrified.
A person who tried to kill him, yet an innocent and weak being.
And someone who would be brutally murdered by the gangs if no one helped.
‘Mom...’
The man's face overlapped with that of his mother, murdered by the gangs. Now Yohan clearly understood why he was here.
Not to kill someone.
But to protect someone.
His body felt light, as if the chains had fallen away. He made eye contact with the man entering through the open door.
“You little ra...”
Bang! Bang!
Yohan shot the man once in the chest and once in the head, then lowered his stance and aimed outside the door.
“Fuck!”
The men behind, who had just watched their comrade die in an instant, started pulling their triggers indiscriminately.
Crack! Crack! Thwack!
Just as bullets slammed into the spot where his head had been, Yohan used the flashlight to aim precisely at the nearest man.
Crack!
The bullet, flying slightly to the left of where the flashlight was, pierced the man's torso.
Thump.
“Ugh, hah.”
The fallen man blinked his eyes and moved his mouth.
Yohan aimed at him and pulled the trigger without a hint of hesitation.
Thwack!
The impact of the bullet snapped the man's head back, splattering blood onto the man behind him.
“Y-you bastard.”
Clatter.
The man who dropped his flashlight glanced back at the faint silhouette of Yohan in the doorway and bolted for the door.
The gang members he once feared most were now running away, their backs turned to him.
Yohan watched him with wide eyes, then raised the muzzle of his gun.
Shooting a fleeing opponent felt somehow cowardly.
But letting someone live who would not stop killing out of guilt was also cowardly.
“You, you.”
As the man stammered in a trembling voice at the sight of Yohan taking down two gang members with calm, practiced movements, Yohan tightened his grip on the pistol.
Bang!
The gang member shoved the person in front of him as he opened the door, trying to leave the supermarket.
‘I'm not trying to fight.’
He had taken up a gun to take revenge on those who murdered his mother.
But now, a different thought was sprouting in a corner of his heart.
May I be someone's hope.
With that single, earnest wish, Yohan aimed for the head of the fleeing gang member.
Crack!
And fired a single bullet.
“Ahem.”
Jeff Black, wearing his glasses, held out the hand holding his phone.
The phone's screen displayed a photo taken by Kanghyeok and sent via Leila.
Beside him, the Master, relatively younger than Jeff, was looking at the photo with narrowed eyes. Feeling his eyes grow dry, he gently pressed the corners with his thumb.
“What we feared has happened.”
Jeff put down the phone and took off his reading glasses.
“Indeed. Faster than we anticipated. And their methods are more aggressive.”
“It's just a cautious opinion, but it almost seems like they have a personal grudge against Kanghyeok.”
“But something bothers me. I sense a certain... recklessness.”
Jeff Black gave the Master a calm, yet ice-cold look.
“It seems a changing of the guard has occurred.”
“That is most likely correct.”
“To think we've been dragged into a young folks' fight.”
“Heh, what can we do?”
The Master moved behind the counter and began opening drawers one by one.
“The young have courage and initiative. Seeing them shine with the potential for growth, I sometimes feel a twinge of jealousy.”
Jeff Black gave a bitter smile and looked down at the hand holding his reading glasses.
He had reached an age where he had to rely on such things.
It would be a lie to say he didn't feel the cruelty of time.
“Still, we have what the young do not.”
The Master offered these words of comfort as if he could see into Jeff's heart, even while looking at the drawers.
“Experience, and composure.”
“And if I may add one more thing, wealth.”
Finally finding what he was looking for in a drawer, the Master turned around.
A remote control of the same model as the one in the photograph.
It was an item that could certainly be called a form of wealth.
Especially in a situation like this.
“Where did you get this...?”
“When you're in this line of work, all sorts of things fall into your hands. This is one of them.”
As Jeff placed his reading glasses on the bridge of his nose, the Master continued.
“The module is likely the same as well.”
“What are its characteristics?”
“It's simple. The frequency band is narrow, but it has high stability and a long effective range. Very suitable for detonating bombs.”
“Has this item been used before?”
“This is the model used two years ago in Russia when a certain politician assassinated a member of the opposition.”
“The frequency channel is...”
“If you give me your phone, I'll type it in for you.”
“Ah, then please, right here.”
When he got his phone back from the Master, the remote's operating signal range was displayed on the screen.
Beep.
After sending it to Leila, Jeff Black pressed his wrinkled lips together firmly.
He felt a slight sense of disappointment that he hadn't had a major role to play this time.
‘No, there's no need for that.’
Iron Mask's subordinates are trying to blow up the city with bombs.
The company's satellites are already watching them from the sky.
Knowing that learning the remote's operating signal at a time like this gave them a tremendous advantage, Jeff Black let out a deep breath, his expression much more relaxed.
“Get in! Hurry!”
Leila, who was helping civilians get into a van and her own car in front of the church, felt her phone vibrate.
She pulled it from her pocket; it was a text from Jeff Black. After reading it, Leila smiled faintly.
“We're full! No more room!”
An elderly man sitting in the driver's seat of the van raised his voice.
There were still five people who hadn't gotten into a car.
In front of them, their faces twisted with fear, Leila bent down and picked up guns from the bodies of the gang members.
Then she pressed the firearms into the hands of the remaining people and pointed toward the church.
“Get inside the church.”
“B-but...”
“They'll be here soon. It's not far.”
Even if they were from this city, they were civilians who had never received any training in their lives.
Their shoulders trembled slightly, but the assault rifles in their hands gave them just enough courage to follow Leila's instructions.
Thunk!
Getting into the car, Leila felt it was unusually hot inside.
It was because her car was also packed tightly with civilians.
Driving toward the supermarket, Leila twisted one corner of her mouth into a smirk.
Her heart was strangely pounding.
Part of it was because the plan was going well, and part of it was because the car was full of civilians who were depending on her.
But the decisive factor was Jeff's text.
“So that makes two things possible.”
Leila muttered unconsciously, despite the many people watching her.
That's how significant it was to have found out the remote's frequency.
Now, two more things were possible.
One was to stop their bombs from detonating.
The other was to detonate their bombs ourselves.