The White Wolf's Appearance

The inside of the motel had become a slaughterhouse soaked in blood. Gangsters and Yakuza screamed at the top of their lungs, smashing each other with blunt weapons or driving blades into vital points to kill.

Haneda Shinichi… Where the hell are you hiding?

Jeonghan carved through the Yakuza like a reaper, his Holy Edge 7.1-inch karambit knife flashing as he searched for their leader, Haneda Shinichi.

One Yakuza thrust a dagger at Jeonghan’s throat. Jeonghan leaned sharply to the left, slipping the attack, then hooked the curved outer blade into the man’s right armpit and ripped upward, slicing the axillary artery wide open. He immediately shoved the dying man’s head aside with his right hand, spun the karambit, caught the blade against the exposed throat, and finished the cut.

At that exact moment Itsuki leveled a pistol at him. Jeonghan reacted instantly, yanking a nearby Yakuza into position as a human shield before diving behind a cluster of bodies for cover.

(Cover? Then I’ll just have to close the distance…!!)

Itsuki had barely taken a step when a massive impact slammed into his left flank, followed by searing pain. He staggered backward, realizing he had been shot.

(If I hadn’t been wearing a vest… that would have been fatal.)

Itsuki scanned the chaos and spotted Jeonghan aiming straight at him. Understanding he was in the kill zone, he moved fast, dodging the next rounds while several of his own men caught the bullets meant for him.

Killing that one isn’t the priority. If he keeps interfering, I’ll deal with him later. Right now I need Shinichi.

With that decision made, Jeonghan advanced, pistol in his left hand and knife in his right. Anyone who tried to block him was cut down or put down with a bullet.

Suddenly several Yakuza appeared carrying Remington M870 shotguns fitted with short barrels and silencers. They opened fire on the gangsters. The buckshot was devastating—heads literally exploded in clouds of blood, flesh, and brain matter; limbs were shredded off in gruesome sprays.

In the middle of the carnage Baek San took cover, katana in one hand, and drew a silver Colt M1911A1 fitted with a suppressor.

“Answer bullets with bullets!! Do not fall back!!”

At Baek ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠San’s roar, several gangsters pulled out their own silenced pistols and focused fire on the shotgun wielders. But every time one went down, another Yakuza snatched up the weapon and ammunition belt to keep the barrage going.

Jaehyuk closed in on one of the shotgun carriers. The man swung the muzzle toward him, but the weapon clicked dry. He dropped it and reached for his Tokarev TT-33. Jaehyuk’s gloved left hand clamped down on the slide before the pistol could rise. The gun still fired once, but Jaehyuk ignored it, driving his knife deep into the man’s chest, shoving him backward while twisting the blade savagely.

The Yakuza’s eyes rolled as he gurgled. Jaehyuk watched the light leave them without a flicker of emotion, yanked the knife free, and immediately ducked under a dagger slashing at his neck from the side. He spun counterclockwise, opening the attacker’s belly with one slash, then burying the blade into the man’s flank.

Jaehyuk ripped the knife out, flipped it to his left hand in a blur, drew his pistol with the right, and began dropping more targets.

Itsuki swung his own pistol toward Jaehyuk. Jaehyuk used bodies as moving cover, dodging the shots while closing the distance. Itsuki tried to track him through the crowd, but hitting a target weaving that fast was nearly impossible.

The instant Jaehyuk entered range he whipped the knife in his left hand across, knocking Itsuki’s gun arm aside while raising his own pistol to the man’s face. Itsuki’s left hand shot out, seizing Jaehyuk’s wrist, yanking the muzzle off-line as he twisted his head. The shot missed by inches.

Locked together, both men strained, trying to shove the other off balance.

This son of a bitch again?

Jaehyuk drove forward, bending his right arm to slam an elbow into Itsuki’s chest. Itsuki twisted at the last second, bleeding off most of the force. He answered with a sharp left kick to Jaehyuk’s midsection, knocking him back, then immediately aimed at his head.

Jaehyuk dropped the knife from his left hand, caught Itsuki’s gun wrist, jerked his own head left, and shoved the muzzle right—exactly as Itsuki had done. At the same time he brought his own pistol up. Both triggers were pulled. Both bullets flew wide.

In the split second of struggle Jaehyuk’s left thumb found the magazine release on Itsuki’s P30 and dropped the mag. Itsuki’s thumb did the same to Jaehyuk’s Glock 19. Both weapons went dry at the same instant.

Itsuki shoved Jaehyuk into the wall and drove a right knee at his chest. Jaehyuk dropped his center of gravity and blocked with both arms.

While the two men fought, Ha Seongjun’s reinforcements stormed in. They charged the Yakuza or opened fire with silenced pistols.

Seongjun carved a bloody path, knife rising and falling without mercy. Yakuza fell one after another beneath his precise, brutal strikes.

“Director Ha is here!!”

“Let’s go!! Bury every last one of these Japanese bastards!!”

The arrival of Seongjun sent the gangsters’ morale skyrocketing. They roared like men possessed, adrenaline surging, and slammed into the Yakuza with renewed savagery, cutting their numbers dramatically.

Watching it while still locked with Itsuki, Jaehyuk felt a moment of dark admiration.

They look like cult fanatics who just had a rally with their messiah. One man shows up and their fighting spirit explodes like that…

He pushed the thought aside and kept fighting.

Meanwhile Jeonghan had cleared the upper floor, putting down every Yakuza he found.

If he wasn’t downstairs, he has to be up here. Unless he already ran.

A Yakuza aimed a Glock 17 at him and died instantly with a bullet through the forehead. When more turned their guns his way, Jeonghan ducked behind a wall and returned fire, the hallway echoing with suppressed gunshots.

Downstairs Baek San continued his slaughter, katana flashing and pistol barking. After a moment he pulled back, took out his phone, and dialed.

Near the motel’s rear exit, Namgung Chan—one of the undercover agents embedded inside Gangryonghoe—methodically put rounds into the tires of every parked car, flattening them.

This should slow down any escape.

He reloaded, then settled into cover with his eyes locked on the still-closed back door.

If Haneda Shinichi comes through there, he dies.

The door suddenly burst open. Shinichi emerged with a knot of bodyguards who immediately fanned out, pistols raised. Chan lined up the shot on Shinichi’s head—only to lock eyes with one of the guards.

“(Haneda-san!! Get down—!)”

Chan put a bullet through the guard’s skull. While the rest of the bodyguards returned fire, Shinichi dove into a waiting car. The driver glanced at the dashboard and cursed.

“(Haneda-san!! Tire pressure warning—puncture!)”

“(What?! Damn it!)”

“(We’ll have to switch vehicles!)”

They piled out again. Shinichi drew his pistol and unleashed a storm of bullets toward Chan.

Outnumbered. This is bad…

Chan tried to close the distance while returning fire, but Shinichi used the cars as cover and slipped around behind him. Chan spun, only to have his wrist seized and slammed against a vehicle. He threw a left hook that was batted aside; the butt of Shinichi’s pistol cracked against his temple.

“Keuk!”

The world ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠spun. Before Chan could recover, Shinichi pumped two rounds into his torso. The vest stopped the bullets, but the blunt trauma staggered him. Shinichi exploited the opening and drove a brutal kick straight into Chan’s groin.

Chan folded with an agonized groan, completely incapacitated. Shinichi put a final round through his head without hesitation.

Leaving the body where it fell, Shinichi turned to his remaining men.

“(What about the other cars?)”

“(All of them are punctured too.)”

“(Son of a— We’ll head for the main road and hail a taxi or—)”

A wet thud cut him off as the head of the man in front of him exploded. Shinichi and the survivors whipped around to see a figure in a white wolf mask aiming a suppressed H&K VP9 at them.

(Hakuro?! Why is he here—?!)

While Shinichi froze in shock, Hakuro opened fire, dropping more men. A few Yakuza charged him. He flowed between their attacks, drew a knife with his left hand, and carved them apart. One slashed at him; Hakuro leaned back, sliced the attacker’s arm, then cracked the man’s skull with the butt of his pistol before shooting the rest.

The Yakuza with the slashed arm tried to fight on, but his breathing grew labored, his body stiffened, and his vision blurred. He collapsed, poisoned by the neurotoxin coating Hakuro’s blade.

Hakuro leapt backward to avoid another dagger, used the man behind him as a living shield, and headbutted him in the face. Two shots to the chest and one to the head finished another attacker. He hooked a foot, spun, and used the entangled Yakuza as cover while he emptied the rest of the magazine into the survivors.

Then he took cover behind a car and opened fire on Shinichi, who had ducked behind the vehicle’s hood. Metal pinged and sparked as bullets ricocheted.

As Hakuro retreated while still aiming, Jeonghan came sprinting out the back door. Sensing movement, Hakuro instantly swung the pistol toward him. Jeonghan found himself staring down the barrel before he could even raise his own weapon.

Shit… too fast. If I try to counter now… I die.

For some reason Hakuro’s finger never tightened on the trigger.

Jeonghan sensed something off in the masked man’s posture. Then Shinichi aimed at Jeonghan from the side. Hakuro immediately fired at Shinichi, forcing him to duck.

“Jeonghan!! Lee Jeonghan!!”

Jaehyuk and the rest of the Gangryonghoe men came charging out, shouting his name. Hakuro turned and fled. Shinichi ran in the opposite direction.

Jaehyuk and the others never even noticed the masked figure. They poured gunfire after the zigzagging Shinichi, but every round missed.

“Jeonghan!! You okay?!”

Jaehyuk pushed through the men to reach him. Jeonghan stayed silent for a long moment before answering.

“……I’m fine.”

Even as he spoke, his mind kept replaying the strange encounter.

No matter how I look at it, something was wrong. Did he think I was an ally? Why aim at me and not pull the trigger? And… why was the hand holding the gun shaking so badly?

He clearly remembered the tremor in that gloved hand.

Was it just a trick of the light because it was dark? That guy… why didn’t he kill me? Why…?

Meanwhile Hakuro sprinted through the alleys, constantly glancing over his shoulder. He finally slid to a stop in a shadowed corner, ripping the white wolf mask off. His chest heaved as he recalled Jeonghan’s face.

(How…? How is this possible?!)

The mask trembled violently in his grip. He looked like a man who had just seen a ghost.

(It can’t be…!! That person… that person was definitely… right in front of my eyes…)

He forced his breathing under control, regained his composure, and slipped the mask back on.

(It was dark. I saw wrong. I definitely saw ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it wrong.)

But the unease refused to leave him. He pulled out a burner phone and dialed.

Hakuro, still ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wearing the wolf mask, walked slowly down the dark alley, unable to shake the storm of confusion raging inside him.