At the same time, tens of kilometers away from Sparrow City, inside an abandoned apartment, a man was kneeling with his arms bound tightly by ropes. He looked utterly miserable, unable to utter a single coherent word because a dirty fabric was stuffed into his mouth and tied tightly across his face. Tears streaked down his cheeks as muffled sounds escaped his lips.
"Hsmsjjwlo!" the man tried to speak, but the gag rendered his words incomprehensible.
Standing before the kneeling man was a young man dressed in a sleek black long-sleeved shirt and matching pants, his piercing eyes cold and merciless. He stared at the man with an unflinching gaze. "You know where Sam is, but you chose not to tell us," the young man said flatly.
"Hmmmmm!" the man cried out again, writhing in desperation.
The young man's expression hardened. Letting out an irritated sigh, he grabbed the filthy fabric and yanked it off the man's mouth with a forceful tug.
"Mr. Jake! I swear, I swear, I'm not that bastard's ally! I'll tell you anything, I—"
Before the man could finish his plea, Jake sent a swift kick to his side, knocking him onto the cold, dusty floor.
"Ahhh!" the man screamed in agony as a sharp, burning pain shot through his ribs and left cheek.
Jake knelt down beside him, grabbing the man's chin firmly to lift his head. His icy gaze pierced through the man's soul. "Listen, Henry," he said in a low, menacing voice. "If you don't return all the money from that heist two years ago, don't even think about coming back to the organization. The moment you set foot near us, you won't live to see another sunrise. Do you understand?"
"Yes, yes, sir!" Henry stammered, his head bowed in submission. His shoulders slumped in defeat, but then a sudden thought flashed through his mind. "Sir… Sir Jake!"
Jake, who had already begun to turn away, halted mid-step and turned his cold eyes back toward Henry. "What?"
"The thing is…" Henry hesitated, trembling as he searched for the right words. "I'm afraid Sam has some backing."
Jake's eyes narrowed sharply. "What do you mean?"
"I don't know who this person really is," Henry said, his voice trembling. "But he goes by the name Jacob. He seems to be some kind of leader… maybe a gang or mafia boss, I'm not sure."
"Mafia?" Jake repeated, his tone laced with curiosity.
"That's right!" Henry nodded vigorously, desperation in his every move. "He… he seems like a ruthless guy, and he's also Sam's old classmate."
"Interesting," Jake muttered, a flicker of intrigue crossing his cold features. He turned to his subordinates, who had been standing silently in the shadows. At Jake's signal, two towering men with muscular builds stepped forward with an air of authority.
The two men moved in unison, their heavy boots thudding on the floor as they approached Henry. They crouched down and began untying the ropes that bound him, freeing his bruised wrists and shoulders.
Once unbound, Henry collapsed forward slightly, massaging his sore arms. Jake leaned closer, his expression as cold as ever. "Now, tell me everything that happened," he demanded.
Henry gulped audibly, knowing there was no way out. Fearfully, he began to recount every detail.
After hearing everything Henry knew, the young man suddenly let out a sharp, chilling laugh, his cold demeanor unchanged. Slowly, he pulled out his phone and began dialing. The subtle hum of the call connecting filled the room, but for Henry, the sound was deafening, like the toll of a bell signaling his doom.
"Hello, boss," Jake said smoothly, his tone devoid of emotion.
Henry's heart sank into the depths of despair. The single word, "boss," confirmed his worst fear. He felt his entire body stiffen, the air around him growing colder. Jake wasn't just handling this matter on his own—he was reporting directly to the head of the organization. That shadowy figure who loomed above them all, the unseen hand controlling every piece on the board. The man no one dared to cross.
Sweat beaded on Henry's forehead as he tried to process the gravity of the situation. The organization's true scale remained a mystery to him, but he knew enough. Enough to understand they dealt in lawlessness and blood, in crimes so dark they only whispered about them even among themselves. Henry cursed Sam inwardly, his mind racing with anger and regret. That bastard! If Sam hadn't betrayed them and stolen the money, Henry wouldn't have been in this mess. Now, he was paying the price for someone else's greed.
"Yes, boss. Understood," Jake said, his voice firm and deliberate. He ended the call, his movements calm, almost robotic. His gaze then returned to Henry, a cold, razor-sharp smile spreading across his face.
Henry felt his chest tighten. His instincts screamed at him that something terrible was about to happen. The look in Jake's eyes was that of a predator, and Henry was the prey. A terrifying possibility began to creep into Henry's mind, one he tried desperately to push away but couldn't escape.
That's when he heard it—a faint clink behind him. His body froze, panic surging through his veins. Slowly, he became aware of a cold, metallic object pressing lightly against the back of his neck. His breath caught as realization hit him like a freight train.
A gun.
Jake's cold stare remained locked on him as the moment stretched unbearably. Desperation consumed Henry. He snapped his head toward Jake, his voice trembling as he begged, "Sir Ja—!"
Bang!
The sound of the gunshot echoed sharply through the room, cutting off Henry's plea mid-word. His vision dimmed in an instant, and his body crumpled to the floor like a lifeless puppet. The room fell silent, save for the faint reverberation of the shot.
For Henry, there was only darkness now.
***
RING!
"Shit," Jacob muttered, groaning as the alarm drilled into his ears. He buried his head under the pillow, but the sound pierced through relentlessly. After a few more seconds of grumbling and futile resistance, he gave in, raising his sluggish upper body to silence the cursed device.
Yawn.
Rubbing his eyes, Jacob scratched his stomach lazily and stretched, his thoughts still shrouded in morning fog. He wanted to sleep a little longer, but some part of him resisted the urge. After wasting a few minutes in bed, he finally dragged himself upright, his mind slowly clearing.
"Another day, huh?" Jacob muttered as he glanced toward the window. However, the curtains blocked the view, and the irony made him chuckle softly.
The rest of Jacob's morning unfolded as routinely as ever. He made himself breakfast, ate in silence, brushed his teeth, and took a quick shower. After tidying up the clutter in his modest apartment, he decided to step out for some fresh air.
He slipped on a worn-out T-shirt and sweatpants, pulling on his trusty, well-loved brown sneakers. They were a gift from his sister five years ago when he graduated from college, and though the shoes were now battered with age, Jacob wore them faithfully. As he laced them up, his mind wandered to the shoes he'd bought recently—sleek, black ones he wore to play his "mob boss" role. Those were sitting in his apartment, untouched. He winced at the memory of spending $25 on them, even secondhand. "What a waste," he muttered, shaking his head as he stepped outside.
The park wasn't far. He soon saw the familiar trees and felt the gentle morning breeze cooling his skin. As he approached the paved jogging path, he spotted her—Mira Hansen, her ponytail bobbing as she jogged gracefully.
"Hey!" Jacob called, waving enthusiastically as he jogged toward her.
Mira turned at the sound of his voice, her face lighting up in a warm smile. "Hello," she replied cheerfully, slowing her pace to greet him.
But before Jacob could close the gap between them, a sharp, all-too-familiar chime rang in his head.
[Ding!]
Jacob halted mid-step, his face twisting in annoyance. *What now? Another bullshit mission?*
The screen appeared before him, its bright text sending a shiver down his spine.
---
[Major Mission: The Organization]
Description:
Due to unknown circumstances, Henry, Sam's old comrade in robbing the bank two years ago, is dead. Now, the organization behind it is targeting the three of you.
Condition:
Protect Sam and Emi for 48 hours. Within these 48 hours, deal a major blow to the organization.
Rewards:
- Skill: Status Checker (5-time use)
- +5 LVLs
- +150 AP
- +25 SP
- +2 points on all attributes
- +20 CHA
- Title: The Mob Boss
- Magic Item: Invisible Bullet (20x)
- Magic Item: Invisible Gun (1x)
Penalty:
Death
---
Jacob's heart dropped as he read the last word. Death.
Henry was dead? Did the "boss" of the organization discover their meeting? A chill crawled down Jacob's spine. The stakes had never been higher. The penalty wasn't about lost points, skills, or stats anymore—it was his life.
His hands trembled as he stared blankly at the panel. How the hell am I supposed to deal with an entire organization in 48 hours?
"Jacob?" Mira's voice pulled him from his spiraling thoughts. She was standing closer now, her head tilted in concern as she studied his face. "Is everything okay?"
Jacob's eyes darted to her, but his mind was still racing. Then, without thinking, he reached out and gently placed a finger against her lips, silencing her.
"I need to go," he said abruptly, his voice low and tight with urgency. Without waiting for her response, he turned and walked away, his posture tense.
Mira stood frozen, wide-eyed and confused. "Jacob—wait…" she murmured, but he was already disappearing into the distance.
She frowned, her earlier good mood now replaced by unease. There was something heavy in the air around him, something dark. Though she didn't know what it was, she instinctively understood—it wasn't ordinary.
Mira glanced at the path he'd taken, her heart weighed down by worry. "What's going on?" she whispered. Whatever it was, she silently prayed it wouldn't swallow him whole.