A/N: MC's illustration in this comment/paragraph section (alternatives are welcomed).
***
"Penthouse. Top floor. Two inside, three outside," Kaito's voice crackled through the earpiece. "Ten-minute patrol cycles, but the outside guys stick to the east and west balconies. For south side…blind spot for exactly twenty seconds."
"That's all I need."
I adjusted my gloves, rolling my shoulders as I perched on the rooftop ledge. Below, the city stretched like a neon circuit board, traffic crawling through the veins of a dying beast. My expression barely shifted.
Kaito sighed. "Kuroya, this guy's eaten seven assassination attempts. That's more lives than a damn cat."
"Then let's make this number eight count."
A chuckle from the earpiece. "Cocky bastard. Alright, you've got a three-second window—go."
I quickly leapt. A rush of wind. The skyline blurred. One second of freefall, then—impact.
My boots landed on the penthouse balcony with a muted thud. Steel railing, cold under my fingers. I pressed against the glass door and slipped a signal jammer onto the electronic lock. A faint click—the system scrambled. I was in.
Inside, the penthouse reeked of old money and fresh blood.
Marble floors. Leather furniture. A half-finished whiskey glass on the coffee table—still warm.
Someone's here.
I inhaled sharply.
"—!"
A knife. From my right side.
I ducked.
A blade whistled past my ear, slicing air instead of flesh. I twisted, caught the attacker's wrist, and drove my elbow into his ribs. A grunt—he staggered, but not down.
He recovered fast, flipping the knife back into a reverse grip. His stance changed.
"Who the hell—" He didn't finish.
I lunged first.
One step. Left feint. Pivot. Disarm.
The knife clattered against the marble before the guy even processed what had happened.
Too slow.
My hand shot forward, grabbing the back of his head—CRACK! His skull met the floor in a dull, sickening thud. Lights out.
"One down," I murmured, shaking off the sting in my knuckles.
"Two more inside," Kaito reminded me through the earpiece.
I didn't waste time. The hallway ahead stretched into dim light, a single door left slightly ajar. Voices leaked through the gap. I slowed my breathing, listening.
"...Boss says the hit could come any moment now. You sure this place is secure?"
A scoff. "Come on, man. The last guy got sniped from two blocks away. Two blocks. If anyone tries shit here, they'll be dead before they step inside."
That's your final answer?
I pushed the door open with my foot.
—pft! pft!
Silenced gunfire. Two rounds. One between the eyes. The other through the throat.
The bodies slumped onto the carpet before their minds even registered the attack.
"Three down," I whispered.
The room was quiet now. Empty whiskey bottles on the counter. Half-smoked cigarettes in an ashtray. And then—
Click!
A chill shot down my spine.
"Kuroya—!"
Kaito's voice barely reached me before my body moved on its own.
I lunged backward—
BOOM!
The entire floor exploded.
Flames. Smoke. Shrapnel. The blast ripped through the penthouse, and I was airborne.
Twelve stories up.
Wind howled past my ears as my vision flipped and spun. Glass shards rained around me, catching neon light in a slow-motion nightmare.
Grab something! Anything...!
My hands scrambled—fingertips grazing metal—balcony railing.
—caught it.
"—hrk…!"
The impact nearly tore my shoulder apart. My ribs slammed against the side of the building, pain flaring white-hot. My grip—
Hell no.
I clenched my teeth, forcing my fingers to hold on. Below me, the alley stretched like a hungry abyss.
I wasn't out yet.
My earpiece was, though.
I clicked my tongue in annoyance.
With a grunt, I swung my leg up—hauling myself over the railing of the floor below. My boots hit solid ground, but the impact sent another spike of agony through my ribs.
Smoke choked the air. Blood dripped down my sleeve, staining my gloves. My vision blurred at the edges, but my legs didn't stop. I couldn't stop. I gritted my teeth.
The explosion had turned the penthouse into a roaring inferno, and I was a ghost slipping through its aftermath.
I stumbled forward, vision blurred from smoke and blood.
I needed to get out... Fast.
But then, I heard footsteps.
A bitter chuckle rasped from my throat. Well, it was never easy, I guess.
I pushed through the emergency exit, the metal door slamming against the wall as I threw myself into the stairwell. To the ground level.
Two floors. Three. Four.
Each step sent liquid fire through my limbs, but I kept going.
By the time I burst out into an alley, my body was on the verge of collapse.
Safe?
No.
I barely took two steps before my stomach clenched itself.
"—urk."
My breath hitched. My fingers brushed my side; sticky. And warm.
I looked down.
...blood, huh...?
And lots of it.
"Fuck…" I exhaled. My back hit the cold brick wall, knees threatening to buckle. The world swayed—black edges creeping into my vision.
I heard footsteps again.
Slow. Unrushed.
I forced my head up—squinted past the haze of pain—and eventually snorted.
"So you came."
"I do."
—it's my own target, Tachibana Ryoji himself.
Ex-Yakuza. Black market broker. War profiteer. A man who made his fortune selling weapons to both sides of a conflict and watching them tear each other apart. If you needed a ghost gun, a military-grade explosive, or something worse—you went to Ryoji.
He stood at the alley entrance, a gun on his hand.
He walked closer, gaze steady, and then—
Bang!
My vision darkened.
Where did I go wrong...?
It wasn't the infiltration—I got in clean. It wasn't the kill—I took out the guards before they even knew I was there. It wasn't even the escape—hell, I had a route planned.
It's just the explosion.
That wasn't a security measure. It wasn't some last-ditch panic move either. It was deliberate.
From the moment I set foot in that penthouse, Ryoji had already set the stage. He knew someone would come. Maybe not me specifically, but someone. And instead of reinforcing security like an amateur, he did something more tricky.
He left a kill box.
The moment I took the shot, I was already dead. The explosion wasn't to stop me. It was to flush me out.
And when I landed in the alley, bleeding, dazed, desperate—he was already waiting.
Gun raised. Sight steady.
Like a hunter finishing off wounded prey.
It's funny how life worked, really.
One moment, you're the best at what you do—the shadow in the night, the blade in the dark, the ghost no one sees until it's too late.
The next, you're bleeding out in an alley, lungs filling with blood, body broken, watching the city lights flicker above you like dying stars.
This is my end?
I almost laughed.
It wasn't like I hadn't seen this coming.
People like me—people who lived in the dark, who played this game long enough—we all knew how it ended.
No retirement. No peaceful life. No getting out clean.
Just one bad night.
One mistake.
One bullet.
And here it was.
My last mistake.
A breath shuddered past my lips.
Did I regret it? The blood, the choices, the bodies left behind?
…No.
I lived how I wanted. Fought how I wanted.
And now—I was dying the only way I knew how.
Ryoji exhaled softly, lowering his gun.
"…Sleep, you damn hound."
His voice was the last thing I heard before everything faded to black.
***
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