Attacked

"Are you ready?"

Old Yuan's voice carried the weight of someone who had lived long enough to see empires rise and fall — steady, yet tinged with an exhaustion that never quite left her cracked throat.

Victor nodded without hesitation, though the slight twitch in his fingers betrayed the storm quietly brewing beneath his composed exterior. His eyes flickered down at the rough map spread before him — a patchwork of fading ink and hastily drawn lines, sketched by hands that had seen far too much loss.

It was a route toward Caishen Hwang's estate — or what remained of it.

Hiroshi leaned closer, lips slightly parted as if trying to memorize every curve and marking on the brittle parchment. The air inside Old Yuan's quarter felt heavier than usual — stale, suffocating.

Even with the faint crackle of the lantern swaying above them, the shadows pressed closer against the cold, damp walls.

The room itself was a paradox.

It wasn't luxurious, nor entirely destitute — just painfully modest. The bed creaked beneath Old Yuan’s frail frame, its sheets neatly folded but worn thin over time. A few personal belongings scattered the room — a rusting clock, a faded photograph of a much younger Yuan standing beside men in military uniforms — but none of them spoke of the woman who once sat on top of the world.

Victor found himself wondering — not for the first time — why someone as high-profile as Yuan Hwang, a woman who once held an industry in her palm, had chosen to wither away in this stifling tomb carved beneath the earth.

She could have fled — bribed her way onto a private jet, sought refuge on some remote island where the infected would never reach.

Instead... she stayed.

Victor glanced at Hiroshi, silently questioning if the same thought crossed his mind. But neither of them dared voice it out loud.

There was a certain reverence to Old Yuan — the kind that made you hold your tongue even when the questions gnawed at your throat.

"I've written all the necessary information for you to reach my grandson's estate as safely as possible."

Her voice broke through the silence, pulling both men back to the present. She glanced between them, her cloudy eyes flickering — scanning, weighing.

Judging.

"The passages marked here... they're the ones my men have used before. If you're careful, there shouldn't be any trouble. I've also included the cross and turns inside the manor, so everything would be smooth."

Victor's eyes lingered on the red marks lining the map — narrow tunnels, dried riverbeds, and old service routes buried beneath the ruins of the city. Routes carved out long before the world went to hell.

"But," Old Yuan's voice sharpened, cutting through the flickering light, "if you fail to return before sunset..."

She leaned forward, bony fingers tightening around the worn curve of her cane. The small movement seemed to drain what little strength she had left — yet there was no mistaking the steel behind her gaze.

Without breaking eye contact, she lifted the cane — pointing it toward the lone drawer standing against the cracked wall.

Hiroshi glanced at Victor before stepping forward, pulling the drawer open. Inside, nestled beneath a stack of yellowed papers, was a single brass key. Its edges were chipped — rust blooming along its grooves — but it still glinted under the dim light like a relic from another life.

Hiroshi held it up, brows furrowed.

"That's the key to Caishen's secret hideout," Old Yuan explained, her voice quieter now — as if speaking of her grandson took something from her. "He built it himself... a bunker buried beneath his estate. If he made it that far... he might have locked himself inside."

Her fingers curled tighter around the cane, knuckles whitening.

"But I fear... he never did."

Victor's chest tightened at the unspoken truth.

In this world, hope was always heavier than certainty.

"It can serve as shelter for one night," Old Yuan continued, her voice hollow. "But even so... I can't guarantee what you'll find inside."

Victor's fingers twitched against the edge of the map, the phantom flashes still flickering at the edges of his mind.

Experiment 1012. Failed.

Could Caishen be also a part of it?

He clenched his jaw, burying the thought deep beneath his fractured mind. Now wasn't the time to let the ghosts claw their way back in.

"We'll make it back before sundown," he said firmly — more to himself than anyone else.

Old Yuan's eyes lingered on him, searching — peeling him apart layer by layer without a single word.

"Perhaps."

Victor hated how uncertain she sounded.

Hiroshi shifted, flipping the brass key between his fingers with far more confidence than he truly felt.

"Don't worry, Lady Yuan." He forced a grin — the same boyish smirk he'd worn since the day Victor met him. "We'll be back in time for dinner."

Old Yuan's lips curled faintly — not quite a smile, but something close.

"Bold words," she murmured. "Let's see if you still have that smile when the sun starts to bleed."

Her cane tapped against the floor — slow, deliberate. The final sound before she leaned back into the hollow embrace of her bed.

Victor folded the map carefully, slipping it into his coat pocket.

No more words were exchanged.

The mission had already begun.

But as they turned to leave, Victor couldn't shake the feeling that Old Yuan was watching them both — as if she was memorizing the way they stood, the lines of their faces...

Just in case they never came back.

Outside Old Yuan's room, the cold air wrapped around them like a second skin, seeping through their clothes and biting at their damp hair. The faint flicker of oil lamps cast long shadows across the hallway, but it wasn't the cold that made the atmosphere feel heavier.

It was the eyes.

Everyone who saw them turned their heads, conversations stalling mid-sentence. Even the thirsty women — the ones who had been secretly swooning over them since their arrival — openly eyed them now that they looked fresh and clean from the bath.

Hiroshi smirked, feeling the weight of their stares.

"Look at that," he muttered low enough for only Victor to hear. "A little soap and suddenly we're the last men on earth."

Victor tugged at his sleeves, visibly uncomfortable under the attention.

"Ignore them," he mumbled, eyes fixed straight ahead.

But Hiroshi's grin only widened, leaning a little closer.

"You really think they're staring at us, lover boy?" He glanced sideways. "Or maybe... just you?"

"Shut up or I'll shave this map into your mouth." Victor's voice was low, but the threat carried weight. He tapped the folded paper tucked in his coat. "I've already memorized it — don't even try me."

Hiroshi's grin froze before he immediately lifted both hands in surrender, taking a cautious step back.

"Whoa, calm down!" he chuckled awkwardly, eyes flicking to the coat pocket as if the map might actually come flying out. "I was just messing with you, man... No need to turn into a geography assassin."

Victor shot him a deadpan glare, but the corner of his lips almost — almost — twitched.

"But jokes aside," Hiroshi's voice lowered, eyes flicking around the hallway, "do you really think Caishen knew something about this Clean Slate Protocol?"

Victor didn't answer right away. Instead, he focused on fastening the leather holster around his waist, securing the cold steel of two handguns on either side. His fingers worked with practiced precision, tightening the straps before slipping two curved daggers into their sheaths — one on his belt, the other strapped to his thigh.

"I don't know," he murmured, his voice distant.

He crouched down, pulling his sawed-off shotgun from his pack, checking the rounds before locking it into place at his back. The familiar weight of the weapon pressed against his spine like an old burden he'd grown used to carrying.

Finally, he slung the crossbow over his shoulder — its string freshly wound and bolts tucked neatly in a leather quiver by his side.

Victor straightened, adjusting the weapons on his waist. Every piece of gear felt heavier now — not just in weight, but in the unspoken promise that came with carrying them.

"Only way to find out..." He glanced at Hiroshi, eyes sharp beneath the dim light.

"...is to find it out ourselves."

Hiroshi shrugged, letting out a small sigh before adjusting the strap of his machete across his chest. He fastened the makeshift holster holding his pistol and slipped a few extra magazines into the pockets of his worn jacket.

Old Yuan had advised them to leave around 6 AM — a time Harold would usually be away with Nathan for their routine rounds. Otherwise, the kid would most likely sniff them out and stir up an unnecessary scene with his cocky mouth.

Victor understood all too well. If there was one thing Harold excelled at — it was being a little shit.

Without another word, the two silently headed towards the metallic door leading up to the surface. The rusted hinges creaked softly as Hiroshi pushed it open — but before they could step through, heavy footsteps echoed from the corridor behind them, freezing both men in place.

Their hands instinctively went to their weapons, eyes snapping towards the sound.

What they didn't expect was to see Amanda — standing there in full gear.

Her leather jacket hugged her figure, crossbow strapped tight to her back while a rifle hung loosely at her side. Fingerless gloves wrapped around her hands, and a bandolier of ammunition slung across her chest.

The sharp glint in her hazel eyes flicked between the two of them, almost daring them to tell her she wasn't invited.

"Going somewhere, boys?" she drawled, smirking as if she had been waiting for this exact moment.

Hiroshi exhaled through his nose, lowering his hand from his pistol. "Shit."

Victor's brows furrowed, already feeling the headache crawling in.

"Ahh! I believe you weren't on the list to enter Caishen Hwang's humble abode, Amanda?" Hiroshi teased, a crooked grin plastered on his face.

Amanda barely spared him a glance, brushing past his words like dust in the wind.

"Old Yuan was just too rusty and forgot to tell you..." she drawled, rolling her eyes. "I'm your lead on this awful little journey of yours."

Victor's brow twitched, fingers still resting on the hilt of his dagger.

"And so you know," Amanda added, arms crossed, "this is her idea. I'm just as surprised as you both are."

Hiroshi's grin flattened into a sarcastic smile, eyes narrowing.

"Of course you are... hehe."

Amanda's lips thinned, clearly deciding that entertaining Hiroshi's sarcasm wasn't worth the brain cells. Without another word, she stepped forward, pushed the door open herself, and let the cold morning air spill into the tunnel.

"Come before Harold sees us here..." she muttered, casting a glance over her shoulder. "...or none of us will ever leave."

Victor glanced at Hiroshi, who gave a small shrug — but there was no missing the flicker of tension behind his grin.

They had no choice but to tag along with Amanda — not if they wanted to get out without Harold's radar locking on them like a hungry hound.

The moment they stepped into the sun, the chilly morning light painted the crumbling streets in muted gold. Instinct kicked in as the three of them immediately pressed themselves behind a rusted barrel. Hiroshi peeked over the edge, scanning the perimeter like a cat on the hunt.

No signs of Harold.

Yet.

"This way should be safe," Amanda whispered, gesturing to the bright passage behind them — a narrow path snaking between the buildings, littered with broken glass and overgrown vines.

Victor and Hiroshi exchanged glances before silently following her lead.

They moved in a tight line, sticking to the shadows like ghosts. The smell of damp concrete and stale blood lingered in the air. Every few steps, Amanda would glance back, checking if they were keeping up — or maybe making sure they weren't planning to ditch her the first chance they got.

Despite the bitterness of dragging Amanda along, even Victor had to admit —

She knew these passages better than any of them.

After several turns through crooked alleys and forgotten backroads, they finally reached a narrow, abandoned courtyard with a cracked fountain at the center. The walls were crumbling, ivy snaking through the cracks.

Victor's steps slowed. His eyes flicked from the fountain to the half-collapsed archway ahead — recognition sparking in the back of his mind.

This place...

It was exactly as it was drawn on the map.

Amanda must have noticed the shift in his expression because she slung her rifle off her shoulder and set it down by the fountain — as though she was already expecting something from him.

"Old Yuan gave you a map, right?" she asked casually, dusting off her gloves.

Victor's hand instinctively went to the coat pocket where the map was folded. His grip tightened.

"I've memorized everything about it." His voice was flat. "But what would you do to it?"

Amanda's brow twitched, her smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Relax, lover boy." She leaned against the fountain. "Just some markings for our other allies to follow... not everyone has wits like you — including me."

The self-deprecating tone would have sounded more convincing if it didn't come with that cocky little grin.

Victor hated long talks — especially when it involved Amanda's sharp tongue. Without another word, he pulled out the folded map from his coat and tossed it towards her like it was nothing but scrap paper.

Amanda caught it mid-air, her smirk widening in triumph.

Satisfied, Victor casually stepped closer to Hiroshi, lowering his voice.

"Hold the key tight, okay?"

Hiroshi's hand instinctively went to the small pouch hidden under his jacket — where the metallic key Old Yuan gave them was tucked away. He gave Victor a firm nod, eyes serious.

"Of course, my friend."

Victor's lips twitched. "Ew... stop that face," he silently chuckled, the corner of his mouth betraying a rare smile.

Hiroshi's face immediately twisted into mock disgust, wiping his hands on his pants as if Victor had infected him with something.

"You should've just let Harold catch us," he muttered, chuckling. "Would've been a better fate than whatever this is."

Amanda glanced back at them, her brow arching.

"If you're both done flirting," she cut in dryly, unfolding the map, "we have a job to do."

Amanda started walking, however she froze right away, her boot mid-step as the arrow embedded itself into the ground just inches from her foot — its shaft still trembling.

Without missing a beat, Victor, Hiroshi, and Amanda dived behind the wooden boxes nearby, the splintered edges biting into their backs as they pressed against the rough surface.

The air hung heavy, every breath they took barely audible beneath the eerie silence.

Victor's hand instinctively went to his handgun, drawing it from his belt in one swift motion. Beside him, Amanda already had her rifle cocked, her eyes sharp as she scanned the rooftops.

Hiroshi, however, was a whole different story.

His heart hammered against his ribcage as he fumbled with his pistol, nearly dropping it to the ground.

"What was that?!" he gasped, struggling to steady his grip.

Victor shot him a quick glare. "Will you shut the hell up? You're gonna get us killed—"

Thwip!

Another arrow buried itself into the crate just a few inches from Hiroshi's head.

"AAAHHH!" Hiroshi yelped, flattening himself lower.

Amanda smirked despite the situation. "Well... at least now we know they're aiming for him first."

"Not helping!" Hiroshi hissed, clutching his gun tighter.

Victor's eyes flicked toward the rooftops, scanning every corner.

"Two shooters," he muttered under his breath. "One on the left... the other—"

Thwip!

"—on the right."

Amanda nodded, already lining up her rifle with the left building.

"Cover me. I'll take the left."

Victor clicked his gun's safety off, his jaw clenching.

"And what about the right?"

A small grin tugged at Amanda's lips.

"You'll figure it out... lover boy."

Victor rolled his eyes, muttering a curse under his breath.

Hiroshi's eyes darted between the two, still pressed flat against the crate.

"So... I'll be okay just hiding here, r-right?" Hiroshi stammered, his breath shallow, fingers trembling around the cold grip of his pistol.

"No!" Victor snapped, snatching the gun and forcing it back into Hiroshi's clammy hands. He adjusted Hiroshi's grip, his voice low but urgent. "You aim—and you pull the damn trigger."

Hiroshi's wide eyes flicked to Victor, searching for reassurance he knew wouldn't come.

"A-Aim where?"

Victor's jaw clenched. "At the enemy, you son of a—"

A gunshot cracked through the air, cutting him off.