The Smiling Dead Man

The night smelled of steel and blood. Kaito moved swiftly through the narrow alley, his breath steady despite the weight of unseen eyes tracking his every step. He knew the moment he had walked into the meeting that something was wrong—too many shadows, too many unreadable faces.

And now, he was running for his life.

His dagger, still warm with the blood of the first assassin, glinted under the moonlight. They had come prepared. He had counted at least six of them when the ambush was sprung, but he had only managed to cut down three. That left three more, and they weren't the type to give up easily.

His feet skidded to a halt as he reached a dead end. Shit. The stone wall in front of him stretched too high to climb in time. He turned, dagger raised, as footsteps closed in.

The Trap Closes

The first figure emerged from the shadows, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Not so fast, Tae-Hyun."

The second and third followed, positioning themselves to block any possible escape. They were calm. Too calm.

They knew they had him.

Kaito exhaled, rolling his shoulders, as if unfazed. "Took you long enough."

One of them chuckled. "Still cocky, even now? You're done, kid."

Kaito's grip on his dagger tightened. His body ached from the wounds he had taken earlier, his muscles screaming in protest, but his mind was sharp. He could take one. Maybe two. But three?

The first assassin took a step forward, twirling a short sword in his hand. "Any last words?"

Kaito's breath steadied.

Then, he smiled.

A slow, deliberate smile. Not of fear. Not of surrender. But something else entirely.

The assassins froze, their confidence wavering for just a second.

Why the hell was he smiling?

The moonlight caught the glint of his dagger, and Kaito tilted his head, his voice low, almost amused. "You should be asking yourselves that question."