Shadows in the City

After Catalina's execution, Angel returned home, his face pale, his steps sluggish. The heavy door of his condominium clicked shut behind him as he stumbled inside, barely making it to the couch before collapsing face-first into its worn cushions. Tears streamed silently down his cheeks, soaking the fabric beneath him.

"Why…"His voice cracked, barely more than a whisper before rising into a desperate, pained cry."Why?!"

The sun slid past its zenith, casting long golden rays across the floor. The room remained still, the silence only broken by his occasional, uneven breathing. As the hours passed, Angel eventually stirred. He washed his face, changed into casual clothes—a black hoodie over a grey tee, jeans, and sneakers. His eyes were still red-rimmed, the traces of grief and exhaustion etched into his expression.

He stepped out of his condominium and crossed the street to the mall. The building loomed, alive with energy. Inside, the halls buzzed with people moving between shops, cafes, and the central atrium where an idol event had drawn a massive crowd. Angel leaned over the glass railing on the fourth floor, watching the sea of people cheer beneath colorful lights.

"I wonder how Rica's doing…" he murmured, almost inaudible amid the noise.

He drifted through the mall, each step aimless. Eventually, he slipped out through the rear exit into the city's park and restaurant district. The urban garden stretched before him, trees swaying gently in the breeze, couples strolling hand-in-hand, children laughing, and pet owners playing fetch with their dogs. Angel found an empty bench and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees, fingers loosely interlocked.

"What am I even doing…" he muttered.

"Good afternoon, Commander Angel."

A familiar voice startled him from behind.

Angel turned slightly. "Daejin?" he asked, surprised. "Don't tell me the others are here too. I only called for the Fangs, not the Seven Fangs of the Sun."

Daejin, dressed in a fitted suit with the subtle gold jaguar emblem on his lapel, offered a slight smile and sat beside him.

"They'll arrive soon, but I came ahead. You seemed… distracted, Commander. Is something the matter?"

Angel looked ahead, silent for a moment. Then, in a low voice, he said, "Nothing specific. Just thinking about the future. I have to stay ten steps ahead if I ever want to feel at peace."

Daejin nodded. "That's a burden no one else can carry but you."

Angel didn't respond. His eyes caught movement across the park.

A group emerged from a nearby alley, laughing and talking loudly. Rica was among them—her figure unmistakable. Her gait was unsteady, leaning slightly on the boy beside her.

Angel's breath hitched.

"…Rica?" he whispered. Then he stood. "Daejin. Let's go."

Without another word, he darted through the park, Daejin following without hesitation.

The group entered a high-end bar near the park's edge. Angel strode up to the host station at the entrance.

"May we help you, sirs?" the host asked, glancing at their attire with measured professionalism.

Angel flashed his black-gold card. "Private room. Beside the group that just entered."

The host's eyes widened, and his posture straightened with reverence. "Y-Yes, sir. Immediately."

Within minutes, they were seated in a private square-shaped room, fitted with plush couches and a glass table. Dim lighting and ambient music set the mood—luxurious, but tense.

Daejin glanced at him. "Shall I contact the others?"

"No need," Angel said. "Let's enjoy a drink first."

The waiter returned with a silver bucket holding fine wine and a selection of craft beers, along with two crystal glasses. He bowed, placed Angel's card back on the table, and left.

"Commander, allow me," Daejin said, pouring the deep red liquid into Angel's glass.

Angel accepted the drink and took a small sip. The burn of the wine grounded him.

They made small talk—about logistics, the syndicate's reach, upcoming assignments. But Angel's gaze remained distant.

"How are the other six doing?" he asked finally.

"They're enjoying their break, sir. Taking time to see the country."

"They deserve it," Angel murmured.

At that moment, the sliding door of the adjacent room opened. Rica exited with her group, still laughing, her cheeks flushed.

Angel's eyes narrowed. "We're done here," he said, already on his feet.

He followed them at a distance, Daejin shadowing him silently.

The group wandered out of the modern district and into Makati's slums—a place where rusted iron roofs hung over crumbling buildings and the air reeked of sweat, smoke, and blood. Gang tags stained the walls like scars. Angel's jaw tightened.

Rica staggered. The boy she leaned on—tall, messy-haired, and cocky—wrapped an arm around her.

Angel approached swiftly.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked coldly.

The boy turned, sneering. "What's it to you, man? You her boyfriend or something?"

"Hey, Tom," another chimed in. "Who's this freak?"

Tom eyed Angel up and down. "You following us, pal? You related to her?"

Angel noticed the tattoos surrounding him now—older men, likely from a local gang. They were forming a loose ring.

"I said," Angel repeated, voice low and sharp, "Give me Rica."

Tom scoffed. "Or what?"

"You think your gang scares me?" Angel stepped forward.

They laughed. "What's this Korean freak saying?"

Angel's patience snapped. In a blur, he kicked Tom squarely in the chest, sending him flying back and releasing Rica. She fell into Angel's arms, unconscious.

The gang moved to retaliate.

But Daejin stepped forward, cracking his knuckles.

"No one touches the commander's blood," he said flatly.

The gang rushed—only to be dismantled with precise, brutal efficiency. Daejin moved like a phantom, dropping one after another in seconds.

Angel cradled Rica carefully.

"Let's go," he said. "We've got what we came for."

Daejin nodded, wiping his hands on a kerchief.

They hailed a cab. Rica stirred slightly in Angel's arms, mumbling nonsense in her sleep. When they arrived, Angel carried her to the door of a modest cement home.

An old man opened the door, gasping. "Rica!"

"She passed out on the way back," Angel said gently. "I didn't want anything bad to happen."

The old man's eyes softened. "Thank you… She said she was going to the mall with friends. I didn't expect—"

"I'm sorry," Angel said quietly. "She'll be okay. Please take care of her."

"I should pay you back for the trouble—"

"No need." Angel smiled faintly, then turned away. "I'll be going."

As the door shut behind him, Daejin stepped from the shadows of a nearby post.

Angel's expression hardened. "Let's go."

"What about the gang?"

"I won't forgive whoever dragged her into this mess," Angel said. "We'll clean this city. Quietly."

"Yes, Commander," Daejin replied.

They disappeared into the night—shadows reclaiming their place beneath the neon-lit skyline.