The only mirror in my room reflected back a pair of dull green eyes, their color slightly distorted by the dim lighting. I stared at them, unblinking. Was it the lack of light, or had my eyes truly lost their original vibrance?
I ran a hand through my messy, light brown hair, letting out a tired sigh. How long had it been? Days? Weeks? Time blurred together in this place. The cold concrete walls of my solitary cell were my only companions. There was nothing to do but stare at my own reflection and the empty walls.
I leaned in slightly, tilting my head. The man staring back at me in the mirror—was that really me? Or just a shadow of who I used to be?
Did it even matter?
I pulled back with a scoff, shaking my head. Enough of this. There was no point in thinking too much. I turned away from the mirror and let myself drop onto the stiff mattress of my bunk.
"Today won't be any different from the others."
Muttering those words under my breath, I closed my eyes, surrendering to the only escape I had—sleep.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
A loud pounding on the metal door shattered the silence of my cell.
I let out an irritated sigh, forcing my eyes open. My body was sluggish, but my mind immediately sharpened.
The banging came again, followed by the unmistakable sound of keys clanking against the lock.
A moment later, the heavy door swung open, and a familiar face rushed in.
Shondo.
One of the guards.
But something was off. His usual expression of boredom and indifference was gone. Instead, his face was tense—like he was being chased by something unseen.
"Get up, now!" he ordered, his voice urgent.
I sat up slowly, stretching my stiff limbs. "Tch. What now? Is it feeding time already?"
Shondo didn't respond. Instead, he grabbed my wrist and yanked me up to my feet, forcing me to follow him out of my cell.
Now that was interesting.
He wasn't even bothering with protocol. No restraints. No backup. Whatever was happening, it had to be serious.
As we moved down the dimly lit corridor, I noticed something unusual. Normally, this place was eerily silent—nothing but the occasional echo of footsteps. But today, the air was filled with distant noises—hurried footsteps, muffled voices, and the crackling of radios.
Something was definitely happening.
Shondo led me to a heavily monitored room, filled with security cameras. Before I could say a word, he shoved me inside and slammed the door shut behind me.
"Wait here."
And just like that, he was gone.
I let out a slow breath, scanning my surroundings.
Why the hell was I here?
The answer came about fifteen minutes later, when the door finally opened again.
And the man who walked in was the last person I expected to see.
Chief of Police, Kurata.
An older man, but one who still carried himself with unwavering confidence. His uniform was immaculate, his expression unreadable.
He stepped forward with a slight smirk. "Mr. Yooji, I suppose your lovely vacation has come to an end, hasn't it?"
I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms.
"A lovely vacation?" I repeated mockingly. "I wasn't aware criminals were granted vacations, Chief Kurata."
If this old man had suddenly appeared before me, talking about vacations, then he definitely had something planned.
I leaned against the table. "So, tell me, what exactly do you mean by 'vacation,' Chief Kurata? And while we're at it, let me ask you something—why is a police chief addressing a man who killed 22 officers as 'Mister'?"
I smirked. "I doubt you came here just to exchange pleasantries. So, let's cut to the chase—what do you want from me?"
Kurata studied me for a moment before letting out a small chuckle.
"I want you to serve Kamakura once again."
I blinked. Then, I let out a laugh.
"You're joking, right?"
Serve Kamakura? The same city that locked me up?
"And why the hell would I do that?"
Kurata's expression turned serious. "Because the city is collapsing. And we don't have anyone else who can handle this situation."
I remained silent, waiting for him to elaborate.
Kurata took a seat across from me, folding his hands together. "Four separate gang factions, heavily armed, have taken to the city's busiest streets. They've begun looting, burning down stores, and leaving destruction in their wake. And among them, we've identified mercenaries—trained professionals. This isn't just gang violence anymore."
Then, his voice darkened.
"And on top of that, they've started kidnapping women and children... attempting mass rape."
The room fell into a heavy silence.
Kurata's fists clenched, his knuckles turning white. His usual composed demeanor was beginning to crack.
I let out a slow breath. "And you expect me to care about any of that?"
Kurata smirked, but there was no humor in his eyes. "No. But I know you hate being bored. So, here's my offer—an endless supply of men you can kill. No laws. No consequences."
I hadn't expected that.
I leaned back, studying him. "Tell me, Kurata… does this hatred of yours come from your duty as an officer, or could it be that you're one of the victims?"
Kurata exhaled slowly, his gaze hardening. "For a 27-year-old, you have quite the sharp mind, Mr. Yooji. And yes, your guess is correct… all three of my daughters were kidnapped, just like the other civilians."
I was right.
But instead of giving him hope, I decided to respond with an offer he couldn't possibly accept.
I leaned forward slightly, smirking. "So, in exchange for saving your city and your daughters… will you give me whatever I want, Chief Kurata?"
There was a pause. A single moment where I half-expected hesitation. But it never came.
Kurata's response was immediate. "Whatever you want… as long as it's not an innocent civilian's life."
I let out a dry chuckle. "Tch. How noble. You draw the line at civilians, huh? But what about your own life?"
He didn't flinch.
I studied him carefully, my smirk fading. There was no trace of doubt in his expression. No hesitation. Just cold, unwavering resolve.
"You already know the answer," Kurata said, his voice disturbingly steady.
I exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down my face. "Oi, oi. You're actually serious, huh? You'd die for this shithole of a city?"
Kurata didn't even blink. "If that is what it takes."
I scoffed, leaning back in my chair. "You cops really are something else. What, is this some kind of loyalty act? You think throwing your life away is gonna fix anything?"
His fingers tapped against the table, slow and rhythmic. "This city isn't the only thing at stake."
I raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Then what is?"
His grip on the table tightened.
"My daughters. My men. The people who still believe in something." His voice lowered slightly. "The moment I walked into this room, I had already made my decision."
I let out a dry laugh. "And here I thought cops were supposed to be the logical ones. You're throwing your life away for a gamble. That's what this is, isn't it?"
His gaze was sharp, unwavering. "Everything is a gamble. The difference is whether or not you're prepared to lose."
I rolled my shoulders, shaking my head. "Man, you really are insane."
Kurata smirked slightly. "Perhaps."
There was a brief silence. A tension so thick that even I found myself oddly still.
Then, he reached into his coat.
My muscles tensed. My body moved before my mind even registered the action—instinct kicking in after years of survival. But I didn't make it in time.
Kurata was faster.
His gun was already pressed against his temple.
My breath caught in my throat. "Wait—"
But his finger had already pulled the trigger.
Bang.
The sound rang through the small, enclosed room, deafeningly loud.
Blood splattered onto the cold walls behind him. His body jerked, then slumped back into the chair, motionless.
For a few seconds, I just sat there.
Staring.
I had seen plenty of people die. I had killed plenty of people myself.
But this was different.
No fear. No hesitation. No final words.
Just a man who had already accepted his fate long before pulling the trigger.
I let out a slow breath, leaning back in my chair. "Well, shit."
This day just kept getting weirder.