Steady, faint footsteps echoed on the cold concrete floor in the darkness. Death moved through the narrow alleys of a dilapidated, crime-ridden district behind the city. The distant, mournful howls of stray dogs mingled with the shrill screech of decaying, leaking pipes, creating an eerie and desolate atmosphere, not unlike the battlefields he was accustomed to.
In one hand, he held a small wooden box intricately carved with an ancient design on its lid. Tonight's mission wasn't an assassination order, but it was far more crucial… for it concerned his grandfather's hidden past, and it was the only way to stop this cycle of evil.
He hadn't received many details about this mission, only knowing that a "top-secret file" from his grandfather's former special forces unit had been stolen by a man of dark influence named "Sia Boonthawee." A legitimate businessman on the surface, Boonthawee was, in reality, a major financier supporting illegal arms trafficking and international human trafficking rings. More importantly, this Sia Boonthawee was one of the individuals involved in the criminal network that had brutally torn Death's happy family apart in the past.
Tonight—Death had to retrieve that secret file. And he had to uproot the pain and vengeance that had been deeply embedded in his grandfather's heart for decades.
Inside Sia Boonthawee's opulent, palace-like mansion, perched on a hill outside the city.
Soft, languid jazz music drifted through the lavishly decorated grand hall. Sia Boonthawee sat cross-legged on an expensive leather sofa in the middle of the room, sipping a hundred-thousand-baht red wine, surrounded by at least ten heavily armed bodyguards in menacing black suits. Nearby, a beautiful young woman in a revealing cocktail dress laughed cố gắng and flattered him.
"Will he really dare to break in here, sir?" a large man in a suit, who seemed to be the head bodyguard, asked with a disdainful chuckle.
Sia Boonthawee narrowed his eyes, looking out the large window, a contemptuous smirk on his face. "If he were just some common riffraff, I wouldn't care. But this one isn't ordinary... If he truly is the one they call 'Death,' then we're definitely in for a show tonight. Prepare to welcome our special guest properly. Don't tarnish the name of the Godfather of the Underworld."
11:14 PM, according to the digital clock face.
A CCTV camera mounted on the outer wall of the mansion suddenly went dark, followed by another, and then another... The video feeds from several cameras vanished from the monitor screen in the control room.
In the security control room, a few security officers exchanged panicked and anxious glances before one spoke with a trembling voice.
"He... he's here, sir..."
In an instant, the entire mansion's electricity cut out simultaneously. All automatic locks engaged. Emergency alarms blared throughout the area, but no one could respond or rectify the situation in time. Chaos began to erupt.
The first two bodyguards stationed at the main entrance collapsed unconscious in the shadows, without even a whimper or a sound of struggle.
Death used the darkness and silence as his allies. Every movement was swift, precise, and traceless, like a ferocious tiger hunting its prey in the dead of night.
In the heavily fortified, sealed-off basement of the mansion.
A thick, heavy steel door slowly creaked open, accessed with a special keycard he had stolen from one of Sia Boonthawee's high-ranking staff. The aforementioned top-secret file was securely stored within a steel safe, along with a massive amount of digital data.
Next to the secret file lay another classified document—a black-and-white photograph of an old man in his youth, dressed in full military uniform. It was his grandfather during the Cold War era. A secret hidden for decades began to reveal itself to Death…
His grandfather wasn't just an "ordinary war veteran" as he had always told him—but in reality, he was one of the founders and the leader of a top-secret special forces unit that had, decades ago, dismantled the largest child trafficking network in the region.
And Sia Boonthawee—was actually his grandfather's most trusted former subordinate, who had betrayed the unit and ruthlessly murdered almost all of his grandfather's comrades for personal gain.
Death clenched his fists, his eyes glinting with a hardened resolve. "This is no longer just an ordinary mission... This is about reclaiming justice for my grandfather and his fallen comrades."
A small explosion sounded faintly from the back door of the mansion, a diversion to draw most of the bodyguards away from the main building.
Death seized the opportunity during the ensuing chaos, swiftly and silently climbing to the second floor of the mansion, heading straight for Sia Boonthawee's master bedroom in the far-left wing.
The bedroom door was kicked open forcefully—the three bodyguards stationed outside immediately opened fire, but Death rolled away, narrowly dodging the bullets. Several rounds riddled the sofa cushions and the wall behind him.
The sharp whistle of his hidden short sword sliced through the air, "Shhwack," swift and precise, before fresh red blood splattered everywhere.
Finally, Sia Boonthawee was yanked by Death and slammed against the wall, the razor-sharp tip of the short knife pressed coldly against his throat.
Death uttered not a single word. He simply took out the family photograph he always carried and showed it to Sia Boonthawee—and spoke a single, short sentence, his voice as cold as ice.
"The pain and loss… have been passed down for generations. But tonight… it all ends with you."
After the final gunshot rang out, the grand mansion began to go up in flames from several strategically placed explosives.
Death disappeared into the darkness of the night once more, along with the wooden box containing the long-lost top-secret file, and a vendetta settled.
Several days later—at the old teakwood house in Chiang Mai.
Death quietly placed the wooden box on the same old teakwood desk where his grandfather regularly worked.
His grandfather slowly opened the wooden box, his wrinkled fingers trembling slightly. Seeing the secret files and old photographs of his comrades-in-arms, with whom he had faced life and death, he fell silent for a long time. His eyes began to redden, before a single tear rolled down onto a group photo of his fallen comrades.
"Grandson... Thank you, truly..." his grandfather said, his voice trembling, filled with an indescribable emotion.
May walked in, handing her brother a glass of cold water, and offered a faint, understanding smile.
"I don't know what terrible things you've been through, brother... But I'm so glad you're back with us again."
He offered a faint smile, and this time—he knew it wasn't just about coming home.
It was about standing up to protect what remained, and to build a new, better future for his family.