As the masked man drew his last breath, a wry smile crossed his face.
He never imagined he'd end up being killed by his boss's deceased father. Even in his final moments, he couldn't help but wonder, 'if the boss knew his father's corpse would retrieve what he wanted, why hadn't he just done it himself?'
'Did he really think he could wash his hands clean of all this?'
The masked man couldn't sort through these thoughts. The spark of life faded, and his body crumbled, scattering in a shower of gray fragments.
The corpse leaned down, hoisting the metal box left behind. Its empty gaze fixed on the distant horizon, driven by one purpose—to deliver this item to his son.
With limbs held stiffly forward, it leaped ten meters in one bound, each landing accompanied by a resounding thud, its presence growing More oppressive with every jump.
