Blood, blood. Bright red blood. A fugitive burdened with fear, Marsha Lee.
She hummed. After glancing back to check if Hyungoh was following well, she continued her song.
Both hands full of the smell of blood. What an ugly and beautiful woman you are, Marsha Lee.
The weather is nice. Today is the day. I’ll sing a cheerful song leading your drooping self. She was running through the forest when she suddenly stopped and reached her hand toward the sky.
Darkness, darkness descends. It embraces you coldly yet gently. Yes, today’s the day. The day of blessing when a detestable woman receives wings.
The lyrics were familiar. Had he heard them before? Hyungoh thought while diligently following her moving figure.
For some reason, he didn’t want to lose sight of her. Fortunately, she seemed to be accommodating him. Whenever his feet slowed due to his less-than-ideal stamina, she also slowed her pace, and if he seemed to be falling too far behind, she would dance in place waiting for him.
Ah, Marsha Lee.
As she ran endlessly forward, she spotted a light in the distance and hurried her steps excitedly.
When the moon and stars pour down, bury this body straight in the mud and sing a song of compassion.
Hyungoh followed her across the dense undergrowth, getting closer to the light. It was a gentle light that seemed eternally warm.
* * *
“Withdraw immediately.”
Hunter barely managed to speak while suppressing his anger. But Federico merely smiled contentedly, barely listening.
“Your intentions are too transparent. That’s the problem.”
You always show your plans. That’s why you always fail, my foolish friend. Hunter sharply retorted to his lecturing tone.
“Then should I impulsively stab you to death like before? Is that what you want?”
“You know that method failed too. I’m still breathing, after all.”
You can’t beat me. Sadly, that’s reality. As Federico gestured, the man threatening Marsha pressed the gun muzzle harder against her.
“I can’t beat you?”
Hunter felt there was something pointed about his words. The dialogue had been oddly familiar from the start.
You won’t be able to beat me.
“······Ah.”
So that’s why it seemed familiar. Hunter let out a hollow laugh.
On the day Hunter first met Federico at a gambling den that had been thrown into chaos by a fight Hunter had instigated, Federico had proposed a game. It had been a persistent game continuing for 31 years until now.
“This is tiresome. Aren’t you obsessing over me too much?”
“I just care about you too much.”
“Haha, you care about me?”
As Hunter strode toward Marsha, the flustered man looked at Federico. Federico waited for his next move with a serious expression.
“Go ahead, shoot now.”
Hunter removed the gun from Marsha’s head and placed it against his own forehead. This seemed to be an unexpected provocation as the man fidgeted nervously, busy watching Federico’s reaction.
“If you ruin my plan, I’ll ruin yours too.”
“What do you think my plan is?”
“You think I don’t know?”
The psychological warfare between Federico and Hunter continued. Everyone fell silent—both the man who found himself holding a gun to Hunter’s forehead and those keeping watch from beyond the undergrowth.
“No matter how much you rack your brain, that child is going to die.”
“Haha. You underestimate me too much. Did you really think I only reached out to Cenaline?”
Federico squinted his eyes as if to say “what do you mean by that?” Hunter grinned and spoke to Marsha.
“What time is it now, Marsha?”
“Five minutes to eight.”
Marsha glanced at her wristwatch and answered impassively, as if unconcerned about the man gripping her neck from behind.
“You’ll find out soon, Fede. It’s going to be a beautiful night.”
“I see you’ve prepared a surprising gift?”
“Indeed. You can look forward to it.”
Federico, who had been stroking his chin with a sharp gaze, turned his attention to a rustling sound coming from not too far away. A smile gradually spread across his face.
“Is that also one of your surprise gifts?”
Hunter turned his head following his gaze. His eyes shook at the familiar face revealed between the massive trees.
There stood Hyungoh, staring blankly at Hunter with half-closed, drowsy-looking eyes.
