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The driver slammed the gas pedal to the floor, the car hurtling through the narrow tunnel at full speed. But this passage carved into the mountain was anything but straight.
At the next slight turn, the tense driver miscalculated—slamming the vehicle into the wall. The side of the car crumpled, a tire burst, and a plume of white smoke billowed into the air.
Mr Park smacked his head against the interior, a lump already forming. Cursing under his breath, he scrambled out of the wreckage. But there was no time to dwell on injuries.
His fingers brushed against the pistol holstered at his waist, gripping it tightly as he stumbled forward, hands and feet working together in a frantic escape.
The wrecked car—now little more than a metal barricade—blocked the towering Skinner chief's path.
If he had chosen to crawl like a dog, he could have squeezed through. But that thought never crossed his mind.
Instead, his massive fists crashed down onto the car.
Like hammers pounding on an anvil, the armored vehicle took the relentless blows.
Then—finally—it gave in.
With an earth-shaking explosion, the car transformed into a ball of fire.
The chief kicked forward, sending burning scraps of metal embedding into the tunnel walls.
He knew he had wasted too much time already.
But some moments in life—well, sometimes a man has to be reckless.
Mr Park fled in desperation, finally reaching the tunnel's exit.
The hidden door slowly opened, revealing a sky speckled with countless stars.
He exhaled in relief, pressing the remote again—three layers of reinforced steel slowly slid back into place, sealing the entrance.
For the first time in minutes, he felt like he could breathe.
Yet his mind raced.
How had that brute found this place?
A cold chill crept up his spine as a horrifying possibility struck him.
A traitor.
Someone among his own people had betrayed him.
Then—
From behind a tree near the entrance, a flash of fire streaked toward him.
Before he could react—
Flames engulfed him.
Everything happened too fast.
There wasn't even time for thought.
His body—and everything he was—was torn apart, scattered in the inferno.
-----------------
The bodyguard stepped out from behind the tree, casually tossing aside the spent rocket launcher.
He lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply. The job was done, and with it, the promise of hefty rewards.
Then—
A deafening crash shook the steel doors ahead, leaving a deep dent in the metal.
Something was coming. Something big.
Panic surged through the bodyguard. He dropped the cigarette and sprinted into the depths of the forest, desperate to find cover.
Meanwhile, a sleek black car sat in the only exit path, poised like a serpent ready to strike.
It could have sped away—but instead, it stopped just shy of the mountain's edge.
"Sir, are we really waiting?" The driver's voice was taut with nerves.
"Yes."
The young aristocrat in the backseat remained still, impeccably dressed, his expression calm—confident, like a king surveying a battlefield.
He cast a brief glance toward the mansion sinking into darkness behind them and chuckled softly.
Then, leaning back, he shut his eyes, cigar smoke curling lazily into the air as he fell into thought.
"Father only sees my brother. Whatever he does, it's always perfect. Whatever I do, he never approves.
I overheard him mention replacing Mr Park a long time ago… but Park has powerful allies. Those people don't want him gone.
I handled things my way tonight. Will Father finally praise me for it?"
The thought lingered.
He reached for a bottle, pulled out the cork, and took a long, burning gulp. Warmth spread through his gut, melting him into the plush leather seat.
A call came through—his bodyguard, voice charged with excitement.
"Target's reduced to ashes!"
"Good."
Just one word. No more needed.
The voice returned, now laced with urgency.
"Sir—something's coming through the tunnel!"
"Ignore it. Just get back here," the young man said coolly, tossing his phone onto the seat beside him.
He closed his eyes, head tilted back, breathing deeply.
Thirty minutes.
Thirty minutes, and he would stand before his father, victorious.
He had kept this a surprise—perhaps it would thrill his father. Perhaps terrify him. Either way, he had followed his father's most sacred lesson.
To win, one must be ruthless.
Tonight, he had done exactly that.
Through the forest, the bodyguard spotted the black car parked in the distance, its taillights barely visible against the dark.
"Sir!" He gasped, fumbling for his phone. He needed to warn him.
But—static.
The call wouldn't go through.
Ahead, the car's tires crunched over dry branches, rolling forward with slow, deliberate weight.
A flicker of unease crept into the bodyguard's mind.
The young master—he wasn't planning on waiting.
Then—
From his pocket, a soft beep.
Instinctively, he looked down.
A second later—
Blinding white fire erupted.
A dull blast. Flesh torn apart.
Agony briefly sharpened his mind as he realized the truth.
He had never been anything more than a disposable pawn.
His job was done.
And so was he.
As life slipped away, his gaze locked onto the black car steadily rolling forward.
A bitter smile tugged at his lips.
Far behind, the young master reclined, smoke swirling around him.
Softly, he uttered—
"Drive."
The driver nodded, pressing the gas. The car slithered into the night.
Somewhere deep in the forest, a dim red glow flickered—like a beast fighting to break free.
The scent of scorched earth and gunpowder filled the air.
But the young master saw nothing, felt nothing.
His cigar glowed faintly, a near-invisible smile lingering on his lips.
The hunt was far from over.
---
Then—
A sound from the sky.
Not the wind. Not the night.
A mechanical whirring—like a swarm of restless gears grinding together.
The young master's eyes snapped open.
A second later—
A drone plummeted, crashing onto the car roof.
"BOOM!"
The explosion ripped through the silence.
In an instant, his half-formed thoughts shattered into raw terror.
He looked up—toward the sunroof.
Ink-black sky. Cold air clawing at his skin.
A beast-like drone hovered overhead, slicing through the quiet before it slammed onto the car with the force of a falling star.
A thunderous detonation followed—fire bursting into the night.
Hundreds of steel shards exploded outward, swarming like furious hornets, pelting the armored vehicle in relentless fury.
Metal screeched, sparks rained, the car trembled under the relentless assault.
Bullets and burning debris carved deep scars into the vehicle's body, dense enough to turn it into a battered, scorched wreck.
The tires shredded, leaving a molten trail across the dirt road, glowing a fierce, unnatural orange.
Though the attack didn't destroy the car, it left it mangled—four wrecked wheels dragging useless weight, grinding to a halt.
Inside, the young master was closer to death than ever before.
Eyes wide, face drained of color, limbs curled into himself like prey cowering before its predator.
A scream tore from his throat—a sound more raw, more shrill than he had ever imagined himself capable of making.
It clawed through the air, ringing like a dying woman's final cry.
It echoed within the tight space, vibrating with the weight of primal fear, even making the bodyguard in the front seat glance aside, brows furrowing at the sound.
Three minutes.
Three minutes of hoarse, shrieking terror before silence finally returned.
He was soaked in sweat, shaking violently.
Then, hesitantly, he lowered his arms—
And realized—
He was unscathed.