The Whispering Shadows

I gripped the whiskey bottle tighter as I staggered down the dim hallway, the smooth glass warming in my palm. The house was too quiet. The kind of quiet that made my skin itch. Every step I took sent a low groan through the old wooden floorboards, stretching unnaturally long in the silence. Something was wrong here. I had felt it from the moment I arrived.

I stopped in front of the door. The middle daughter's room. Akiko. I had never spoken to her, but I knew who she was. I had seen her face before—in a photograph, before I even set foot in this place. A stiff, formal portrait. Three girls standing in a line. The youngest with wide, uncertain eyes. The eldest with a cold, unreadable stare. But the one in the middle—Akiko—had something strange about her. A stillness. Like she didn't belong in the picture, or anywhere at all. Now, I was about to see her for real.

I turned the doorknob and stepped inside without knocking. The room was bathed in a dim, bluish glow from the moon filtering through the paper shoji screen. A single candle flickered near the bedside, its flame weak and struggling. Shadows stretched unnaturally long across the tatami floor. And then, I saw her. Kneeling in the center of the room. Whispering.

At first, I thought she might be praying. But the way her lips moved—slow, deliberate, shaping words too softly for me to hear—felt wrong. This wasn't the rhythmic cadence of a chant. It was something else. Like she was listening as much as she was speaking. A shiver ran down my spine.

I cleared my throat. "Oi." She didn't react. I stepped forward, the whiskey dulling my better judgment. "Who the hell are you talking to?" That made her stop. Slowly, too slowly, she turned her head toward me. Her face caught the faint light, her skin smooth and almost porcelain-like. Her eyes—that was the first thing I noticed. Wide, unfocused, as if she had just woken from a dream she wasn't supposed to leave. For a long moment, she just stared.

Then—her expression twisted. Not in shock. Not in surprise. In pure, unfiltered horror. A chill coiled in my stomach. "What's your problem?" I muttered, shifting my grip on the bottle. She didn't answer. Her lips parted slightly, but no sound came. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, panicked breaths. And then—her gaze flicked past me.

Not at me.

Behind me.

The back of my neck prickled. My fingers tightened around the bottle. The air in the room had changed. It felt heavy, charged—like the thick silence before a storm. I forced out a dry chuckle. "What? What the hell are you looking at?"

Akiko's lips trembled. Her fingers twitched where they rested on her knees, like she wanted to reach for something—or push something away. Then, in a whisper barely louder than a breath, she asked: "Who… are you?"

I froze. A strange, cold sensation twisted in my gut. Not 'what'—but 'who.' It was such a small difference, but in that moment, it felt massive. Something about the way she said it made the room feel wrong.

I tried to shake it off. "Tch. You don't even know who I am?" I let out a short, forced laugh. "You're the one whispering to thin air in the middle of the night." Akiko didn't respond. Her gaze flicked from me to the space just over my shoulder again. And then—

The candle beside the bed flickered violently. The shadows on the walls stretched unnaturally, warping as if something unseen had moved through them. And then Akiko did something I didn't expect.

She scrambled backward, away from me, her movements jerky and frantic. "Don't come closer," she whispered, her voice raw with something close to terror. "Please… don't—"

My breath caught. I had seen fear before. I had caused fear before. But this? This wasn't fear of a man standing in front of her. This was fear of something else entirely.

Then—

A sharp crack sounded behind me.

Like someone stepping on the old tatami.

My blood ran cold. I turned, heart hammering against my ribs—

But there was nothing there.

Just shadows.

And the lingering, undeniable feeling that something had been standing there a moment ago.

Akiko let out a small, choked sob. "You shouldn't be here."

For the first time that night, the whiskey in my blood didn't feel warm.

It felt cold.

I stayed still, the weight of the whiskey bottle grounding me, but my pulse was erratic, hammering against my ribs in a way that had nothing to do with alcohol. The door was shut. I hadn't touched it. I hadn't heard it move. But it was shut. The air in the room felt heavier now, thick like fog, pressing against my skin. Akiko was still gripping the bracelet, her knuckles white, her breaths sharp and shallow. "You shouldn't be here." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the words carried weight, settling uneasily in my chest.

I exhaled slowly, forcing my grip to loosen around the bottle. "Yeah, I got that part. You wanna tell me why?" She didn't answer, didn't even blink. Her eyes darted from me to the door, then back again, as if she was calculating something, weighing an unseen risk. Her lips parted slightly, like she wanted to say something—but she didn't. Instead, she shifted, pulling herself into a tighter position, her fingers tightening around the beads as if she could make herself smaller, less visible.

The silence stretched, tense and unnatural. My throat was dry. The room felt colder. The whiskey in my system was wearing off too fast, leaving me with nothing but a dull headache and a sense of something I couldn't name—something I didn't want to name. I glanced at the door again. It was still shut, its presence now an oppressive thing, like a wall that hadn't been there before.

I turned back to Akiko. "Look, I don't know what game you're playing, but if you—" I stopped mid-sentence because her expression changed.

Her eyes flicked up.

Not to the door. Not to me. Above me.

I went still. A slow, creeping chill spread from the base of my spine, wrapping cold fingers around my ribs. I didn't look. Not immediately. I told myself it was instinct, that I knew better than to react to whatever game she was playing. But deep down, I knew the truth. Some part of me—some ancient, primal part—did not want to look.

But I did.

My head tilted upward, just slightly, just enough to see—

Nothing.

Just the ceiling. Just the dim glow of the moon filtering through the shoji screen, casting pale light against the wooden beams. No shapes. No figures. No shadows shifting unnaturally where they shouldn't be. Nothing. And yet—the feeling remained.

A weight. A presence. The distinct, suffocating sensation of being watched.

I lowered my gaze, jaw tight, heart still pounding against my ribs. Akiko hadn't moved. Her body was stiff, her hands still clutching the beads like a lifeline. I let out a slow breath, forcing out a dry chuckle. "What exactly am I supposed to be seeing?" My voice came out rougher than I intended.

She hesitated, then blinked, her fingers twitching. "You didn't see it." It wasn't a question.

I clenched my jaw. "See what?"

Akiko's shoulders sagged slightly, relief flickering across her face so briefly I almost missed it. But then she swallowed hard and shook her head, like she was trying to clear a thought she didn't want to have. "Nothing. Forget it."

Forget it? That was rich, considering she was the one acting like something was hanging off the damn ceiling.

I let out a slow breath, my frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Fine. You don't want to talk? Then I'm done wasting my time." I turned back toward the door, fingers wrapping around the handle. Cold. Ice-cold, like metal left out in the snow. I ignored it, twisting the knob and pushing forward—

It didn't budge.

I frowned. Tightened my grip. Pushed harder. Nothing.

I glanced back at Akiko. She was staring again, but not at me. At the door.

My stomach twisted. I turned back, trying the knob again. It turned, I could feel the mechanism shift—but the door wouldn't open. It wasn't locked. It wasn't stuck. It just wouldn't open.

I exhaled sharply, irritation flaring in my chest. "Great. Just great." I knocked against the wood with the base of my fist. "Hey! If someone's out there screwing around, open the damn door!"

Silence.

I waited. A second passed. Then another. Nothing. I knocked again, harder this time. "Oi! Quit messing around!"

A third knock. A pause.

Then—

A knock from the other side.

Soft. Slow. Deliberate.

I froze.

A single, cold bead of sweat slipped down my spine.

The air in the room grew impossibly still, like the house itself was holding its breath. My pulse thundered in my ears, but I forced my expression to remain neutral, to not react.

Another knock.

Then another.

And then, ever so faintly—

The sound of something breathing.

Not mine.

Not Akiko's.

Something else.

And it was right on the other side of the door.

For a moment, I just stood there, fingers still wrapped around the doorknob, my breath held tight in my chest. The knock had been deliberate. The breathing—slow, shallow, real. Someone was on the other side of the door. Watching. Waiting.

Then—

I laughed.

A short, breathless chuckle at first, but it built, rolling out of my chest in a rough, almost bitter sound. Akiko flinched at the sudden noise, her wide eyes snapping to me, but I couldn't stop. I threw my head back and laughed, deep and unrestrained, the kind of laugh that didn't belong in a moment like this.

What the hell was I even doing?

The door, the whispers, the creeping sense of something being wrong—all of it had been gnawing at me like some bad horror tale, and I had let it. But now, with my head spinning from whiskey and tension, something finally clicked into place, something so obvious that I almost felt like a fool for not noticing sooner.

The smell.

It wasn't strong, not overpowering, but it was there, weaving through the air like a lingering breath. A faint, cloying scent, buried beneath the sharper notes of old wood and candle smoke. Something almost sweet, almost floral—but wrong.

I knew this smell.

Opium. Or something close to it. Maybe burnt, maybe soaked into the walls of this house for god knows how long, but it was there. Haunting the air. Sliding beneath my skin. It wasn't the first time I'd been in a place like this, where the very foundation was laced with things that made your head swim, that blurred the lines between real and not real.

I exhaled, shaking my head with another low laugh. "Tch. So that's it?" I muttered under my breath. "That's your trick?"

Akiko didn't respond, but I felt her stare.

I tilted my head, rolling my shoulders as the tension bled out of them. The fear, the creeping unease, the weight pressing against my skull—it was still there, but it had lost its teeth. I wasn't dealing with something supernatural. No ghosts, no spirits whispering through the walls.

Just someone.

Someone who wanted me to think otherwise.

And they were standing just on the other side of the door.

I tightened my grip on the whiskey bottle, rolling my wrist slightly, feeling the weight shift in my palm. A slow, deliberate movement, like a predator stretching before a hunt. My voice came out smooth, almost amused. "You know…" I took a step closer to the door. The breathing on the other side hitched slightly. "If you're going to try and scare me, you should at least make sure I'm not too drunk to care."

A pause. The silence between us stretched, taut as a wire. Then—

Another knock.

Not soft this time. Hard.

Testing.

I grinned. "Wrong move."

And in one fluid motion, I yanked the door open.

The figure on the other side barely had time to react before I lunged. A shadowed shape, taller than I expected, wrapped in dark fabric—but I didn't give them time to be anything more than that.

I swung the whiskey bottle.

Glass met skull with a sickening crack. The bottle didn't shatter completely, but it fractured, a web of splintered glass spreading under my fingers as the force of the hit sent them stumbling back. A grunt of pain, a sharp exhale—then their knees buckled, their body collapsing onto the wooden floor.

Out. Cold.

I let out a slow breath, rolling my neck. The buzz of the whiskey had dulled slightly, edged out by the rush of clarity. The room wasn't haunted. The whispers weren't ghosts.

Someone had been trying to play a trick on me.

And now they were lying unconscious at my feet.

I stepped over the body, crouching down slightly, grabbing a fistful of their dark robe and pulling them just enough so that the dim candlelight flickered over their face. The shadows shifted, revealing pale skin, a slack jaw, strands of dark hair sticking to their forehead where the whiskey had spilled. Blood trickled from the side of their head, slow but steady. Not enough to kill them—just enough to make them regret ever trying this.

I clicked my tongue. "Now, let's see who the hell you are."

I crouched lower, tilting the bastard's head slightly to get a better look. His face was sharp, angular—young, but not a kid. Mid-twenties, maybe? He had that lean, wiry build, the kind that could belong to a pickpocket or a hired errand boy. His dark hair was slick with whiskey and blood, his breathing slow and even despite the hit. He wasn't dead. Just unconscious.

Good.

I let go of his collar, letting his head drop back onto the wooden floor with a dull thud. He didn't even flinch. Out cold.

Behind me, I heard a sharp intake of breath.

I turned slightly to see Akiko still on her knees, her hands clutched tightly in her lap. She wasn't whispering anymore, but she looked just as pale, her eyes locked onto the unmoving body.

"You know him?" I asked, wiping my palm against my shirt, my fingers sticky with spilled whiskey.

She hesitated—too long.

"Akiko." My voice came out lower this time, deliberate.

She swallowed, then shook her head quickly, strands of black hair falling into her face. "No."

Liar.

I didn't press her. Not yet. I turned back to the unconscious man, rolling him onto his side slightly, patting down his robe. Loose fabric, layered—traditional, but practical. I ran my fingers along his belt, over the folds of cloth near his waist. Nothing at first. Then—

My hand hit something solid.

I yanked it free.

A small, curved blade.

I held it up, turning it slightly so the candlelight caught the dull sheen of the metal. It was simple, unadorned, no real craftsmanship—more tool than weapon. But sharp enough to gut someone if they knew how to use it.

I exhaled through my nose. "Tch. So you weren't just here to knock on doors, huh?"

Still no response from Akiko. I glanced at her again. Her hands were gripping her knees so tightly her fingers looked bloodless. Her gaze wasn't on the knife, though. It was still on his face.

I narrowed my eyes. "If you don't know him, then why do you look like you've seen a ghost?"

She flinched slightly, but quickly masked it. "I—I just…" She bit her lip, looking away. "I didn't know what you were going to do."

"You thought I'd kill him?"

She didn't answer.

I scoffed. "I don't waste my time on amateurs."

I turned the knife over in my palm, weighing it slightly. "But whoever sent him must think I'm an idiot if they thought I'd fall for that little ghost act." My grip tightened. "And I don't like being played with."

A shift.

Not from Akiko.

From the man on the floor.

A slow, shuddering inhale, his fingers twitching slightly against the wood. He was coming to.

I leaned closer, voice low and cold. "Good. Wake up. I have questions."

His breathing hitched.

Then—

He moved.

Fast.

Faster than I expected for a guy who just took a whiskey bottle to the head. His arm jerked up, his hand shooting for his belt—where the knife should have been.

But I had it now.

He realized too late. His eyes snapped open, meeting mine, wide and frantic. A sharp breath—fear.

I smiled. "Looking for this?" I held up the knife for him to see, tilting it slightly between my fingers.

His body tensed. He hesitated just long enough for me to move.

I grabbed him by the collar and slammed him back down onto the floor.

Hard.

His head hit the wood with another dull thud. He groaned, his body going slack again.

"I don't like being woken up in the middle of the night," I muttered, pinning him down with a knee to his chest. "And I really don't like people trying to scare me for fun. So you're going to tell me who sent you before I decide whether or not to break something important."

His lips parted slightly, his breath shallow. His eyes flicked between me, the knife, then to the side—toward Akiko.

I noticed the movement.

I glanced at her, then back to him. My grip on his collar tightened slightly.

"You're looking at her like she's supposed to help you." My voice was slow, measured. "That's interesting."

Akiko stiffened. "I—I don't know him."

He let out a breathless laugh. A quiet, rasping sound.

Liar.

I grabbed the knife again, pressing the flat side against his cheek. He went rigid. "Last chance. Who sent you?"

He swallowed hard, his chest rising sharply beneath my knee. He opened his mouth, lips twitching—

Then, suddenly—

He slammed his head back against the floor.

Not once. Twice.

Hard.

Before I could react, blood dribbled from the side of his mouth. His head lolled slightly to the side, eyes rolling back.

His breathing slowed.

My grip tightened. "Tch—what the—?"

I grabbed his face, turning it sharply to check his mouth. His lips were already blue. A slow, trembling exhale slipped past them.

He was dying.

Fast.

Akiko let out a sharp gasp. "He—he had something in his mouth—!"

Poison.

I cursed, dropping the knife and slamming my fist into his chest. "Don't you die on me yet, you piece of shit."

His body jolted slightly from the force, but it was useless. His breath hitched, short and sharp, his chest rising once—then falling—

And not coming back up.

Silence.

Thick. Heavy.

Then, Akiko whispered, voice barely audible.

"He killed himself."

I sat back slightly, staring down at the now dead body beneath me. My fingers were still curled in his robe, my breath still tight in my throat.

Then, slowly, I exhaled.

"Yeah." I let go, rubbing a hand over my face. "He did."

The bastard had been willing to die before he could talk.

Which meant I had just stumbled into something a whole lot bigger than a simple haunting act.

I crouched beside the dead man, my fingers working quickly through his belt and robes, searching for anything useful. No gun. No extra weapons. But something small and hard tucked inside the sash. I pulled it free—a keycard.

That meant one thing. Electronic locks. Whoever ran this place wasn't just some back-alley gang relying on brute force. They were organized. Professional.

I turned it over in my fingers, my mind already piecing things together. A place like this—old, traditional-looking on the outside but mixed with modern security—meant cameras. It meant we weren't alone.

Akiko was still kneeling where I left her, breathing fast, fingers trembling slightly against her lap. I didn't have time for her to freeze up.

I stood, pocketing the keycard. "Get up."

She didn't move.

I clicked my tongue. "Now."

She flinched but obeyed, pushing herself to her feet. She looked smaller now, more fragile than before. Her hands clutched the fabric of her kimono tightly, like she needed something to hold on to.

I exhaled sharply, shifting my stance. "Where the hell are we?"

She shook her head quickly. "I—I don't know."

I narrowed my eyes. "What do you mean, you don't know?"

Her fingers curled into fists. "I was blindfolded when they brought me here. They don't let me leave my room unless someone is with me."

That complicated things. If she didn't know where we were, I'd have to figure it out myself. I glanced back toward the door, listening carefully. The muffled voice from the radio was gone now.

Silence.

I didn't trust it.

I cracked the door open slightly, peering into the hallway. Dimly lit, stretching out in both directions. No movement. No signs of anyone—yet. But the air felt heavy, charged, like the calm before a storm.

I turned back to Akiko. "Stay close. Don't make a sound."

She nodded, swallowing hard.

I stepped out first, scanning both ends of the corridor. Left—clear. Right—clear. But then, faintly, the sound of footsteps. Slow. Steady. Moving toward us.

I tensed, gripping the knife in my free hand. One person? Maybe two? No way to tell yet. I pulled Akiko forward, moving quickly and low along the hallway. The cameras were a problem, but I didn't have time to deal with them now.

First, we had to find a way out.

Akiko was still staring at me, her brows slightly furrowed, her expression unreadable. Fear? Doubt? I could see both. And honestly, I couldn't blame her. From her perspective, what she saw was simple—a half-drunk man, holding a stolen gun, grinning like an idiot while supposedly planning an escape.

But there was one thing Akiko, the dumbasses guarding this place, and whoever was watching from behind those security cameras were all wrong about.

Yes, I had come here alone. I had traveled the long road by myself. I had walked into this building with no backup, no visible plan, no easy way out.

But I wasn't stupid enough to think I had to get out of here alone.

I checked my watch.

Forty seconds until the raid.

Time worked differently for me. For most people, forty seconds was nothing—a blink, a breath, a moment so insignificant that it would pass without thought. But for me? Forty seconds was an eternity.

In the first ten seconds, the external recon team would already be in position, surrounding the building. They wouldn't come through the main entrance. That was too predictable. Instead, they'd breach from weak points—side walls, a service entrance, a poorly guarded ventilation shaft. Places that weren't built to withstand a proper assault. The first objective? Cut power and sever communications. These guys relied too much on their cameras. Take those away, and suddenly, they were blind.

By fifteen seconds, radio signals inside would turn to static. Their command center—wherever it was—would be scrambling, trying to reconnect, trying to figure out what was happening. That's when the first distraction charge would detonate. Not an explosive meant to kill—just enough to rattle them. Smoke, noise, confusion. The real entry team would move right after, eliminating outer guards in silent, precise takedowns.

By twenty-five seconds, the ones inside would know something was wrong. But it wouldn't matter. Because at the same time, another team would breach the upper floors. That's where they'd start clearing rooms, moving in a controlled, methodical sweep. One team moves, the other covers. No wasted movement. No unnecessary gunfire. Headshots only.

At thirty seconds, full chaos. Guards would start panicking. Some would make a run for the exits, only to be taken down before they even reached the doors. Others would try to fight back, but they'd be overwhelmed before they could get organized.

At thirty-five seconds, we'd have exactly one window to move. That was when the enemy forces inside would be too busy dealing with the real threat to notice two people slipping through the cracks.

And by forty seconds?

It'd be over.

I checked my watch again. Thirty-six seconds.

Akiko finally spoke, breaking the silence. "Why do you keep looking at your watch?"

I smirked. "Because in a few seconds, this place is going to turn into hell."

She stiffened. "What do you mean?"

I didn't answer. Instead, I tucked the stolen gun into my belt, rolling my shoulders to loosen them.

Thirty-five seconds.

Akiko took a hesitant step closer. "Who are you?"

I glanced at her. "Does it matter?"

She swallowed, looking toward the door, then back at me. She was trying to figure something out—trying to piece things together.

Thirty-two seconds.

The first lights flickered. Brief. Barely noticeable. But I saw it. They were already cutting power.

Thirty seconds.

The silence in the hallway suddenly felt heavier. Like the entire building was holding its breath.

Akiko whispered. "You're not alone, are you?"

I grinned. "Now you're starting to get it."

he air shifted. A subtle pressure change. A feeling I recognized. The moment right before everything fell apart.

Twenty-nine seconds.

The first explosion went off—a sharp, controlled detonation. Not enough to bring the building down, just enough to shake the walls, enough to send cracks of doubt racing through every idiot guarding this place. The lights overhead flickered violently before dying completely, leaving only the pale glow of the moon bleeding through the shoji screens.

Akiko gasped, instinctively pressing herself against the wall. Her breathing was fast, shallow, but she wasn't screaming. Good. She was scared, but she was smart enough to stay quiet.

Twenty-six seconds.

A second blast. This one was closer. The sound of splintering wood, the sharp crack of gunfire. Muffled voices barking orders in the distance. The first teams were already inside, moving fast. They weren't here to negotiate.

I turned back to Akiko. "Stay behind me. Move when I move."

She hesitated for only a fraction of a second before nodding.

I pushed open the door, slipping into the hallway just as the first set of panicked footsteps came storming down the opposite end. Two guards. Running. Not toward us—toward the fight. Their guns were drawn, their movements sloppy. They had no idea what was waiting for them ahead.

Twenty seconds.

I ignored them and moved, Akiko right behind me.

The layout of the building was still an unknown, but chaos was the best distraction. The more their men scrambled, the easier it was to slip through unnoticed. My job wasn't to fight my way out—it was to make sure we never became a target in the first place.

Another explosion. This time, a metallic groan echoed through the floor beneath us, followed by the unmistakable hiss of tear gas. The entry team was flushing out the remaining resistance, cutting off every possible escape.

Fifteen seconds.

We reached the end of the corridor. A T-shaped junction. Left or right.

I pressed a hand against Akiko's shoulder, forcing her to stop. I listened.

Voices to the right. Too close.

Left it was.

We moved fast, keeping low. A dead guard slumped against the wall up ahead, blood pooling beneath his shattered face. His gun was still holstered. Headshot. Quick kill. No wasted bullets.

We slipped past him, reaching the stairwell. I peered down. Clear.

Ten seconds.

We moved.

Down one flight. Another. The air was thicker here, smoke curling through the corridors. The scent of gunpowder and burnt wood clung to my skin.

Six seconds.

A burst of gunfire erupted somewhere behind us, followed by a wet, gurgling choke. Another man down. I could hear boots rushing past the upper levels.

They were finishing up.

Three seconds.

We reached the ground floor. The exit was just ahead—a large, reinforced door. Beyond it, the night stretched out, dark and open. The world outside.

Then—

A shadow moved.

I reacted before my brain fully registered it.

A third guard. He stepped out from a side hallway, raising his weapon. Too close. I grabbed Akiko and shoved her to the side, out of the line of fire.

The gun went off. A single shot. It missed.

I didn't.

I surged forward, grabbing the barrel, twisting it upward as I drove my knee into his ribs. He wheezed, staggering back, but he was fast—recovering, swinging the butt of his rifle toward my face. I ducked, stepping into his blind spot, bringing my stolen gun up—

One shot.

Point-blank.

His body jerked, then crumpled.

Akiko was still pressed against the wall, eyes wide, but she wasn't frozen. She was watching. Learning.

I turned to her. "We're leaving."

She nodded.

Zero seconds.

The final explosion erupted somewhere deep within the building, the shockwave rattling the very foundation beneath us. The fight was over.

And we were already gone.

We emerged on the other side, pushing through an old metal grate into a small ditch filled with overgrown weeds. Beyond that, the road stretched out—empty. And parked a few meters ahead, right where I had left it, was the black sedan.

I grabbed Akiko's arm and pulled her forward. "Keep moving."

She hesitated when she saw the car. "What is this?"

I yanked the driver's side door open. "It's a car. Get in."

She stared at me for half a second, her face still twisted in confusion, but the distant roar of another explosion behind us seemed to make up her mind. She climbed into the passenger seat without another word.

I slid in behind the wheel, shoving my gun into the center console and jamming the key into the ignition. The engine roared to life, smooth and silent. I had picked this car for a reason. Fast. Unmarked. Disposable if needed.

I checked the mirror. No headlights. No movement. We were still clear.

I slammed my foot down on the gas.

The tires screeched against the gravel as we tore away from the compound, the road stretching out before us. My eyes flicked to the rearview mirror again, watching the burning silhouette of the building grow smaller behind us.

Job's done.

Akiko was silent, her hands gripping the seatbelt across her chest. She kept glancing at me, like she wanted to ask something but couldn't decide if she really wanted the answer.

After a few minutes, she finally spoke. "Where are we going?"

I didn't answer immediately. I reached into my jacket, pulling out my phone, and hit a single button. The call connected instantly.

A voice answered, deep and calm. "Report."

I smirked. "Package secured. En route."

A brief pause. Then—"Understood. Bring her in."

I ended the call and tossed the phone onto the dashboard. Then, finally, I glanced at Akiko. "We're going to meet someone."

Baek was waiting.