chapter 13

They hurtled out of the third-story window.

No ropes.

No tech.

Just gravity and adrenaline.

Rin's stomach dropped out from under him. The world blurred—trees, stars, the sharp edge of night—and then—THUMP!

They both slammed hard onto the roof of a black SUV zipping through the driveway below.

Rin's body recoiled at the impact.

Pain shot through his wrist as it twisted beneath him on the landing.

"Shit—shit—fuck—my wrist's gone," Rin thought, gritting his teeth.

"Is he insane? This is insane. I'm gonna die because some smug bastard thinks he's in an action movie—"

Meanwhile, Kai was already moving, breaking the driver's window with the butt of his pistol, reaching in with an eerie calmness. He dragged the panicked driver out through the window like he weighed nothing—then tossed him off the car without blinking.

"He just—he just THREW him out. Onto the road. Like trash."

The tires screeched as Kai swung himself into the driver's seat.

The car barely swerved before he took the wheel and kept going.

Rin, still groaning, managed to scramble down from the roof and into the back seat. His wrist throbbed—definitely sprained.

"This bastard didn't even check if I was alive. Forgot I EXISTED the second he touched the wheel."

"What kind of partner does that?"

In the front passenger seat, the original passenger—a nervous, middle-aged man—was trembling, eyes wide with horror, clutching the seat like it would save his soul.

"He… he just threw him out," the man whimpered, voice cracking. "He just threw him out… oh god…"

Then—gunfire.

Shouts in Russian.

More guards chasing them in black jeeps.

Glass shattering as bullets clipped the rear windshield.

Kai didn't even flinch.

One hand on the wheel, the other checking the rearview mirror casually.

Like it was just a Sunday drive through Moscow.

Rin ducked instinctively, cursing under his breath.

"I swear to god, if we die here I'm haunting him personally."

They reached the main iron gate, towering and ominous.

And still closed.

Kai didn't slow down.

Instead, his foot pressed harder on the gas.

"KAI."

Rin shot forward in his seat, eyes wide.

The metal loomed closer.

"He's lost it—he's ACTUALLY—"

Then, with a faint click, the iron gates swung open just in time.

Sensors or remote override—who cared. They were through.

Rin let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, slumping back against the seat.

"We made it…"

"Okay. Okay. Maybe he does have a plan. Maybe he's not just a walking war crime in designer shoes."

The car sped off into the open road.

And still—that man in the front passenger seat kept sobbing, tears streaming down his face, his hands shaking uncontrollably.

"Please… please, just let me go… I didn't see anything, I swear—"

His voice cracked like glass.

Rin looked at him, frowning.

"Fuck. He's too loud. He's gonna draw attention. Maybe I should just knock him ou—"

POW.

The sound ripped through the car like thunder.

Blood sprayed across the windshield.

The man slumped sideways, a red smear replacing his face.

Rin's entire body froze.

"No…"

He turned toward Kai—who was still driving, one hand on the wheel, pistol smoking in the other.

He muttered something under his breath.

"Слишком шумно."

("Too noisy.")

Rin couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears.

"He didn't hesitate."

"He didn't warn him."

"He didn't care."

Blood ran down the inside of the windshield.

It smeared with each swipe of the wipers, making it look worse. Grotesque. Monstrous.

Rin looked down at his own hands—still trembling—and gritted his teeth.

"I'm supposed to be here for Persephone."

"I'm supposed to be the professional one. The focused one. The serious one."

"But I'm riding shotgun next to a goddamn monster."

He turned toward the open road again, eyes narrowing.

"This mission… just became something else entirely."

2:15 A.M. – Local Hotel, Somewhere Outside the City

The fluorescent light overhead buzzed faintly, casting a sterile glow across the dim, minimalistic hotel bathroom. The room was quiet, almost oppressively so. The kind of silence that had weight.

Water crashed down in a near-violent stream from the rainfall showerhead above, steam curling in lazy tendrils up the tiled walls.

Kai stood under the water, utterly still.

His head tilted back, letting the heat pour over his face, soaking the strands of grey blonde hair that clung wetly to his forehead and jawline. His eyes were closed, lashes beaded with water, as though he were listening to something distant. Something no one else could hear.

His body was a study in stillness.

Long, lean muscle carved like marble beneath smooth, pale skin. Not a scar in sight. Not a single imperfection.

Clean. Precise. Untouched.

It was almost unnatural—wrong, somehow. Like someone had gone through the trouble of erasing the evidence of violence.

And yet everything about him radiated lethal familiarity with it.

Water ran in rivulets down the planes of his chest, highlighting every deliberate line of his body. The only break in the symmetry was the massive tattoo on his chest—deep black ink standing stark against his skin.

Two eagles, wings spread, backs to each other, facing in opposite directions. Their bodies coiled in mirrored elegance.

Between their heads: a regal crown, jagged and iron-looking.

In the center of the chest: a family crest—ornate, ancient, unfamiliar.

The left eagle gripped a sword, long and spiked like something from the Roman era.

The right held a black serpent, mid-coil, its mouth wide in a silent hiss.

The ink didn't look recent. It looked ritualistic. An heirloom on skin.

Kai opened his eyes slowly, his irises a sharp slate-grey, the kind that didn't glow—but cut.

He reached up, running one hand through his soaked hair, slicking it back effortlessly. The gesture was slow, controlled. Performed without thought—or maybe with far too much of it.

A bead of water slid down from his jaw to the hollow of his collarbone.

He exhaled once, a soft breath—more like a ghost of a laugh than anything sincere.

"They never check under the crest," he muttered to himself, the corner of his mouth curling upward in a smirk that didn't reach his eyes.

The water was still running. And yet he hadn't moved in minutes.

Meanwhile back in the hotel room , reeked of cheap air freshener and burnt wiring. The ceiling fan above barely rotated, groaning every time it moved like it was about to give out. Outside, distant sirens wailed — faint but constant, a low drone of tension that never seemed to go away.

Rin sat hunched over a cracked, dust-coated wooden table, a large ceramic salad bowl stolen from the kitchenette in front of him, now filled with ice cubes and enough whiskey to drown a horse.

He dunked his swollen, twisted wrist into the freezing mix with a muffled wince, letting out a string of curses in Japanese.

"くそ...やっと冷える..."

"Fuck... finally..."

His fingers, normally so steady, were trembling — not just from the pain but the adrenaline withdrawal. The chaos had slowed down. Now the aftermath was setting in.

His thoughts spiraled with agitation.

"This wrist's been a mess ever since that bastard Kai yanked the soul outta it. I should've iced it the second we landed on that damn car. But no — he's in there playing prince charming with the shower knobs while I'm here falling apart."

Rin's eyes darted to the cracked bathroom door, where steam still spilled out in curls like a dragon's breath.

"Unbelievable. Dude just walks in like he owns the place, hops in the shower, and doesn't even ask. I mean, technically we broke in 'cause the owner's MIA, but still. A little coordination wouldn't kill you, Kai."

He leaned back, sighing through gritted teeth as he rotated his wrist slowly in the bowl, cringing with every pop. Meanwhile, red and blue lights flashed briefly outside the hotel window. He didn't need to look — he could feel the police presence.

"They're already crawling around this district like roaches. Give it an hour. Two, max. If we don't move, we're toast. And to make things worse..."

The bathroom door creaked.

And there he was.

Kai.

Fully dressed.

Black slacks. A plain charcoal T-shirt hugging his torso just enough to remind Rin that, yes, he was built like a model and a murderer. Wet hair slicked back, not a drop on him now. Movements fluid. Calm. Controlled. Like he didn't just crush a man's skull an hour ago.

And not a single word.

"Fully dressed? What, now he's shy?"

Rin raised an eyebrow, watching the man stride past him and casually grab the bottle of whiskey like it was apple juice. He poured a glass — no ice — and downed it with a slow, practiced ease.

"Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised to see him walk around butt-naked. So this modesty act? Cute."

Rin's eyes narrowed.

Kai glanced back. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

His voice was smooth. Crisp. Almost gently amused.

Rin didn't flinch. He leaned forward slightly, sarcasm spilling from his lips like venom.

"Nothing. Just admiring how beautiful you are," Rin said flatly. "Real calendar material. Especially after the murder and high-speed chase."

Kai tilted his head, a slow smirk tugging at his mouth.

"Really?"

He let the word hang in the air like a challenge.

Rin rolled his eyes so hard it almost hurt.

"Of course not, you psycho."

His tone dropped. The playfulness peeled away. His eyes locked onto Kai's.

"Tell me something. Who the hell are you really?"

Silence.

Rin wasn't backing down.

He removed his wrist from the ice bath, dried it with the edge of his shirt, and pointedly tapped the table.

"I mean it. There's no way you're just some field agent like me. Let's talk facts."

He leaned in, count ticking in his head. His pulse calm — calculated.

"He's hiding something. Everything about him says 'liar.' Even his smile feels curated."

"You were invited to the Romanovs' event," Rin began, voice slow and sharp. "You weren't just there. You belonged. You walked through that place like you'd grown up in it. Knew every hallway. Every locked door. Every camera. And you didn't just happen to know how to sneak me into that mansion — you knew the skeleton of that estate."

Kai didn't respond. He just sipped his second glass.

Rin's eyes hardened.

"You knew about the passageways. The phones. Even the fact that Romanov takes his calls through a separate circuit. None of that is in our briefings. I don't care how deep your clearance is."

"So..." Rin leaned back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other. "If I'm your partner, then why the hell don't I know what you're doing half the time? Where you disappear to? Who you're really working for?"

A long beat passed.

Kai slowly placed the glass down on the table and finally — finally — sat across from Rin.

"I guess your superiors didn't tell you."

His tone was mild. Too mild.

Rin's jaw clenched.

"I hardly know anything, so enlighten me."

He tapped the table again, this time sharper.

"Consider this an interrogation."

A smirk curled his lip, but his eyes were dead serious.

"Let's see how long this smirking bastard keeps his secrets now."

Kai, on the other hand, just smiled — a slow, snake-like grin that didn't touch his eyes. His fingers traced the rim of the empty glass.

Then, softly:

"You sure you're ready for that answer?"

"Mhm… start spilling them out, boo," he said, sarcasm razor-fine, one brow lifted as if daring Kai to lie to his face.

Kai let out a low breath, smile twitching at the corners as he shifted in the chair, the kind of movement that said he was getting comfortable. Too comfortable. Like this wasn't an interrogation — but his stage.

"Let's see," Kai began, resting one arm over the back of the creaky wooden chair.

"I clearly look Russian."

He gestured vaguely at himself — tall, pale skin, jaw like a marble sculpture, eyes sharp and almost cruel in the right lighting.

"I speak Russian like a native. No accent. No slips. No tells."

He leaned forward slightly.

"I can pilot a helicopter by myself — no assistance, no co-pilot. And I can fire a gun in public without spending a night in custody. I've 'disappeared' CCTV footage mid-pursuit. Hell, I've made a public execution look like a gas leak. So, Rin..."

He let the name hang like an icicle above them.

"Just who do you think I am?"

Rin didn't flinch, didn't blink. His jaw was tight. One eye twitched, just slightly.

"So he's not denying any of it."

"Of course he isn't. Bastard doesn't hide — he dangles it in front of you like bait. No fear. No guilt."

Rin tilted his head slowly, speaking through gritted teeth.

"Is this why you're so damn cautious around me? Or is it just a game for you?"

His voice dropped. "Yeah, why would a man who's 100% Russian, and obviously from the top of the chain — privileged, well-connected, dangerous — go out of his way to help a Japanese agency on a classified intel recovery mission?"

He leaned in closer, practically nose-to-nose now, his voice quiet but sharp as broken glass.

"It doesn't add up, Kai."

Kai's smirk didn't fade. If anything, it deepened.

"I'm not even fully Russian," he said, voice like silk soaked in cyanide.

"What."

Rin's eyes narrowed like a blade being sharpened.

"The hell does that even mean. Is he just throwing curveballs to throw me off?"

"No, wait — he's too calculated for that. Everything he says is intentional."

Kai sat back in his chair again, stretching his legs out like this conversation bored him.

"I'm a mutt, Rin. Paper says Russian. Birthplace says Moscow. But blood doesn't lie."

His voice had a quiet smugness to it now, the type that wasn't trying to win the conversation — just win control.

"This punk… he's Russian. Fully or not, doesn't matter. He moves like one. Commands like one. And somehow has the kind of pull that lets him do things I'd get court-martialed for."

Rin's fingers curled on the edge of the table.

"He has power — real power. The kind that doesn't need to flash a badge or ask for permission."

"You've overturned public authority more than once on this mission," Rin said, eyes scanning Kai's every expression. "You don't wait for orders. You don't even need them."

Kai just took another sip of whiskey, not even bothering to look phased.

Rin slammed a hand on the table — not loud, not aggressive — but enough to say we're not done.

"I don't get it, Kai. You don't need me. You don't need this mission. You don't even need Japan."

His voice cracked slightly — not weak, but tired. Frustrated.

"So what are you doing here? Why are you playing agent with me? Why are you pretending to be someone you're not?"

"Who really are you, Kai?" Rin thought, the words pounding like a drumbeat in his skull.

"What are you not saying? What are you hiding behind that smirk?"

"Are you protecting something — or someone? Or are you just using me?"

Kai met Rin's eyes. The silence between them stretched long and cold.

Then, finally, Kai leaned in — expression unreadable. His voice dropped to a whisper, just loud enough to barely reach over the groan of the ceiling fan.

"Maybe... I'm exactly who you want me to be."

And there it was. The smirk. The trap. The manipulation curled around every syllable like a vice.

Rin's stomach twisted — not in fear. Not in confusion. But in something deeper. Because Kai hadn't just dodged the question.

He'd turned it inside out.

The clink of ice in the melting bowl echoed faintly between them. Rin's wrist throbbed under the cold, a dull ache that refused to let him forget the chaos they'd just survived. Yet somehow, sitting across from Kai — fully dressed, calm, and sipping whiskey like he wasn't discussing treason — that was more unsettling than bullets flying past his head.

Kai let his glass rest against his lips for a second before speaking.

"I happen to be a businessman before I became a citizen of Russia."

He said it so casually — as if they were talking about a résumé, not national allegiance.

Rin's brows furrowed.

"You're seriously willing to betray your own country like that?"

His voice was low, sharp — the kind of sharp that cuts deeper because it's restrained.

Kai scoffed. Loudly.

"Dafuq do you think, princess?" he said, slouching lazily in the chair.

"You think Russia gives a damn if I die in some sewer tunnel under Saint Petersburg? Hell no. They'd probably breathe easier."

He leaned in, grin widening.

"Besides, I make much better profit playing the long game, baby."

"Un-fucking-believable."

"He's not just detached from duty — he's detached from consequence. This isn't about ideology. This is about leverage. Money. Power."

Rin could feel something burning low in his gut. Disgust, maybe. Confusion, definitely.

"Do you even know the objective of this mission?" Rin asked, watching Kai's expression carefully — waiting for a flinch, a crack, something.

But all he got was a devilish grin.

"Of course, princess. We're here to confirm whether that lovely little death toy has actually been developed — you know, the one that has Japan and the U.S. shitting bricks. If it has, we torch it. If not, we grab the blueprints and skip town."

He tapped his temple lightly. "That about sum it up?"

"So he does know."

"He knew the whole time. The mission parameters. The stakes. The global implications."

"He's not guessing. He's not bluffing. Which means he's also aware of exactly what the fallout of a success would be."

And yet — there he was, sitting like this was just another business negotiation. No urgency. No guilt. Just… strategy.

Rin's hand curled into a fist beneath the table.

"Then tell me — what do you gain from all this?"

His tone was steady, but cold.

Kai's eyes flicked toward him. Something darker passed behind his smile — something calculating.

"Whether the weapon exists or not doesn't matter," Kai said finally, setting the glass down with a soft clink.

"What matters is that the blueprints for Persephone exist. Somewhere in this country."

That name hit Rin like a slap. Persephone.

The theoretical bio-weapon with artificial intelligence integration and autonomous kill-code. Capable of identifying, targeting, and eradicating entire populations without human command. A myth — or at least that's what the global intelligence community hoped.

"If your goal is to find the weapon…"

Kai tilted his head, eyes narrowing.

"...mine is a bit different."

He leaned in, elbows resting on the table.

"I want the blueprints. I don't care if the weapon's been built or not. If we complete this mission — those blueprints belong to me."

That grin was back. Wide. Wolfish. Measured.

"So that's it."

"He's not just here to help. He's here to own the outcome."

"He doesn't want to save anyone. He wants control."

"Control over a weapon that could rewrite warfare."

Rin's stomach twisted. Every fiber of his instincts — trained, sharpened, battle-hardened — was screaming. Not just because of what Kai said. But how he said it. No flicker of doubt. No conflict. No concern for what that kind of power could do in the wrong hands.

Or maybe… he was the wrong hands.

"He never needed this mission. He needed access. This whole thing... it's just a fucking ladder to him."

"A means to climb higher, grab the blueprints, and vanish into whatever abyss he crawled out of."

Rin stared at him, silent for a moment. Then he muttered under his breath:

"You're a goddamn snake…"

Kai's smile didn't waver. He even raised his glass in mock salute.

"That's rich coming from a man who just helped me infiltrate, maim, and execute half a Russian estate while technically still wearing a government-issued comm in his ear."

Rin's jaw clenched. The comm. Shattered somewhere on the Romanov marble floor. Symbolic, almost.

"Don't play moral with me, Rin."

Kai's voice dropped to a whisper now, low and intimate — like venom slipping into a wound.

"You want justice. I want leverage. Same war, different weapons."

'"Think about it," he said, twirling the half-empty glass of whiskey between his fingers.

"The true fear of Persephone doesn't come from how many people it can kill…"

His voice was low. Calm. Seductive in the way only real danger can be.

"It comes from the fact that it exists. The concept alone is enough to send world powers into paranoia-fueled chaos."

"That's what he's banking on."

"Not death. Not war. Fear."

"The illusion of control is more valuable than control itself."

Rin didn't say a word. He just stared — eyes cold, calculating.

"So, once I get my hands on the blueprints…" Kai grinned. His teeth flashed like a wolf's.

"I'm going to make my own Persephone. Doesn't matter if it fails. The threat of it — the idea — will still give me leverage. And when the time comes, I'll use the data to manufacture new weapons. Variants. Better ones."

Rin's stomach tightened. His jaw ticked.

"He's not just after the blueprints. He's after the monopoly."

"He's going to take the blueprint and fracture the balance of global power."

"And I'll sell them," Kai continued breezily, "to clients who know exactly what it means to own a ghost like Persephone."

He paused, giving Rin a side glance.

"Special clients, of course."

Rin narrowed his eyes.

"New clients?"

Kai gave a lazy shrug.

"Mhmm. Yeah."

He took another sip of his drink, like he wasn't talking about war profiteering and political destabilization.

"Governments, terrorists, corporate tycoons — everyone wants to be the one with the trigger."

"Of course."

"That's why he's so casual. This was never about the mission. Never about loyalty. Not even ideology. He's not a patriot. He's not a soldier."

"He's a goddamn arms dealer in disguise."

Rin's blood ran cold. He leaned forward slightly, arms resting on his knees as he pieced the puzzle together.

"If another Persephone is created... if even one nation finds out it's in the wrong hands, they'll panic. And in that panic, they'll pay anything to be the next to have it. They'll race for dominance."

"And who's standing at the finish line with the patent and prototype? Him."

Kai caught Rin's look and smirked, like he was enjoying being read like an open book.

"Finally getting the full picture?" he said lightly, cocking his head.

"You're a smart one, Rin. I always knew that."