Chapter 13: Breathing in the dark

The waves rolled under a moonless sky, casting a veil over the quiet sea. In the darkness, Goto Suguru sat alone on an inflatable boat, dressed in full military gear. A small oxygen tank was strapped to his back, and a radio headset crackled quietly in his ear. Despite the weight of the gear and the chill of the night air, Goto remained still, his face set with the look of someone accustomed to both discipline and danger.

A voice finally came through the radio. "Mace 8 in position," it reported, the tone clipped and controlled.

Goto didn't respond, but he inhaled deeply, acknowledging the call in his own mind. He strapped on his oxygen mask and adjusted his night-vision goggles. Leaning back, he eased himself into the water, creating hardly a ripple as he slid beneath the surface. In a swift, practiced movement, he vanished into the depths, merging with the inky blackness.

---

Halfway across the world, tension of a different kind was building. Si Mok, known now as Jin-ho Lee, sat silently in the back of a van, bouncing along desolate roads with a group of gangsters under the assemblyman's payroll. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and quiet, tense chatter, every man lost in his own thoughts. They all wore the blank expressions of men who had seen too much, hiding any sign of humanity behind dead eyes.

Si Mok adjusted his cap and took in the scene, noting the behavior of each gangster with careful scrutiny. To them, he was simply another hired hand—nothing about him stood out. Just another cog in the machine. But beneath this mask, Si Mok was analyzing, planning, piecing together every bit of intel he'd gathered.

Their van pulled up at an isolated warehouse on the outskirts of the industrial district. The building loomed in the dim streetlights, casting long shadows over the area. One of the gangsters barked a command, and the men began to unload and file into the warehouse. Si Mok followed, watching his surroundings, alert to any potential threats.

Inside, a single lightbulb hung from the ceiling, casting a dull, uneven light across the room. In the center of the space stood a man with his hands bound, his face bruised and bloodied. Si Mok recognized him immediately. He was no friend—in fact, this man had been an enemy during Si Mok's days as a prosecutor. But now he was a rogue player in the assemblyman's world, someone who had likely overstepped his boundaries or tried to steal something valuable. Seeing him bound like this, it was clear the assemblyman had decided to make an example of him.

The gangsters surrounded their captive, their faces stony and cold. Si Mok stayed near the edge of the circle, blending in. He remembered the battles he'd fought against this man, their clashes in the courts and the threats exchanged in darkened parking lots. But now, he simply observed, his face expressionless. The man's eyes met his briefly, flickering with something Si Mok couldn't quite place—defiance, perhaps, or a final act of rebellion against the man who had once chased him in the name of the law.

One of the gangsters stepped forward and started questioning the captive, his voice low but dripping with menace. But the man remained silent, his gaze fixed and unyielding. It was a dangerous act of defiance, one that wouldn't end well for him. Si Mok could respect the strength it took, even if he knew this man was far from innocent.

As the interrogation dragged on, Si Mok sensed the gangsters' patience waning. He started considering a way to exit without drawing suspicion when the faint rumble of an engine echoed through the warehouse walls. The gangsters looked around, momentarily distracted, and one of them raised an alarm.

A split second later, headlights flared outside, illuminating the windows. The distant thud of boots grew louder, and shouts filled the air. Si Mok took the opportunity to slip back, positioning himself near the edge of the crowd as chaos erupted around him. Whoever had orchestrated this disruption knew exactly what they were doing.

A SWAT team burst through the entrance, scattering the gangsters with ease. Si Mok used the confusion to his advantage, moving swiftly toward the captive. The man, still bound, saw him approach, but his face registered no emotion. Si Mok didn't waste time on words; he cut the man's bindings and nodded toward the exit. Together, they slipped out, dashing into the narrow alleys that stretched behind the warehouse.

They made it to a waiting vehicle, where Si Mok climbed into the driver's seat. He drove in silence, aware of the man's watchful gaze. Though they shared a temporary alliance, he knew their history could resurface at any moment.

After a while, his passenger broke the silence. "You didn't have to save me," he said, his voice hoarse from the beating he'd endured.

"I didn't do it for you," Si Mok replied, his tone flat. "But you'll repay this. Don't get comfortable."

The man nodded, and they drove on, leaving behind the warehouse, the assemblyman's thugs, and whatever unfinished business lay there.