Boisterous laughter echoed through the control room. Federico, throwing his head back in full-blown laughter, asked with lingering amusement:
“Since when have you been awake?”
“Since the moment I heard you lost a bet.”
“Hahaha, you should have woken up to the sound of victory, but instead you heard you’re a loser too. Must have been disappointing.”
“Not really. If anything, I was more eager to see your pathetic face. Congratulations on joining me in the ranks of losers.”
Hunter, speaking with a voice hoarse and barely audible, immediately tried to twist his body. He was merely trying to raise his upper body, but his muscles seemed paralyzed and wouldn’t obey.
“Don’t strain yourself, stay lying down. A patient should rest.”
“I’d rather not meet my end with you.”
“Do you think Michael will defeat me? How hurtful.”
“Hurtful, you say?”
Hunter, grimacing and struggling, turned his head toward Federico who was watching him with interest. Unlike his gentle question, harsh shadows fell across his eyes, making it seem as if he might unleash a torrent of curses at any moment.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
Hunter clicked his tongue at Federico’s feigned ignorance.
“You look as shameless as ever.”
As their emotions tangled in the air, urgent footsteps could be heard from afar. Hunter, who first broke their gaze, looked out at the dark corridor beyond the control room. Soon, the owner of the footsteps appeared.
“…This is maddening.”
Hunter spotted Marsha covered in blood from head to toe and covered his nose. The stench of blood wafted nauseatingly, further constricting his already struggling breath. Looking at the floor where the squelching sound came from, her black shoes were leaving red footprints side by side.
Marsha looked at Hunter as if seeing a ghost, then swept her bloodied hair back. Her once fierce expression softened with a light sigh.
“Is it raining red outside?”
You should have brought an umbrella. Hunter said while shifting his body. Though even the slightest movement caused dull pain, he didn’t stop his sarcasm. Seeing him like this, Marsha gave a faint smile and carefully supported him.
“It’s suffocating. I feel like my body isn’t my own.”
Hunter, who nearly fell sideways losing his balance, muttered while cradled in Marsha’s arms.
“I know that feeling well.”
Federico, pointing to his own chest, chimed in. Thanks to your handiwork. Hunter, shrugging his shoulders lightly, approached Federico on trembling legs.
“Hey, Fede. The bomb threat was a lie, wasn’t it?”
“Why do you think that?”
“There’s nothing for you to gain by provoking the police any further. It would only give them more reason to come after you.”
And aren’t you already on the run? Hunter asked speculatively. He vaguely remembered hearing helicopter sounds as his consciousness was fading. Surely Taylor would have brought the FBI to subdue both organizations.
“I don’t die that easily either.”
“Ah, so that’s why you escaped? Did you break out of jail?”
Hunter let out a chuckle. A fugitive, huh? I can hear the mournful cries of your followers all the way here.
“Unfortunately, this time I’m serious.”
Federico took out a small remote from inside his coat and pressed the button with a slight smile. As the ground shook with a clicking sound, Hunter’s expression gradually hardened.
Boom.
With a magnificent explosion, the lights in the control room shook violently. As Hunter nearly fell from the rebound of the bed wheels moving wildly, Marsha, who quickly caught him, glared at Federico.
“Federico…!”
Hunter, clutching his chest and breathing heavily, shouted with difficulty.
Half the screens crackled from the explosion’s aftermath. Federico, who had been quietly watching, opened his mouth with a nonchalant face.
“One more left. If I press it again, the entire hospital will be reduced to ruins.”
“Why go this far?”
“I already told you, I just want to play a grand game since it’s the finale.”
Hunter glared with unfiltered anger. The emphasis on “finale” was incredibly irritating, and the selfish way Federico pursued only his own amusement even until the end made his blood boil.
“…Let’s be honest now, Fede.”
Hunter, speaking calmly, gradually moved his hand resting on Marsha’s waist. When his fingertips touched the gun tucked at her back, he felt its cold sensation.
Yes, the finale indeed. Raising his head, a proud and contemptuous gaze pierced deeply into Federico.
“All you want is to die with me, isn’t it?”
* * *
In a black and white maze where nothing was visible, Hyungoh ran without rest. He thought about calling out loudly for Michael but decided it would be reckless, so he suppressed even his labored breathing.
With his eyes failing their purpose, his fear doubled. It felt like someone would point a cold gun barrel at him at any moment. While fidgeting with the unloaded gun in his sweaty hands, he slightly pulled out the pocket knife he had brought along. Though he had kept it as a last resort, the threat emanating from the silence compelled him to draw it.
As he ran diligently on legs that wouldn’t calm down, someone appeared without warning and grabbed his hair. Dragged away before he could even scream, the person who threw a punch at him breathed roughly. It was clearly the breathing of someone in a state of excitement.
“…Jake?”
He couldn’t understand how he deduced it was Jake just from the breathing. But the single punch felt powerful as if laden with personal emotion, and the growling sound like that of a beast was threateningly familiar.
When he hit Hyungoh’s face again, blood gushed from his nose like a fountain. Thinking he might really die at his hands this time, Hyungoh’s entire body trembled.
“Stop…”
Knocked far away by a kick to the abdomen, Hyungoh crawled, clutching his throbbing face. His legs had gone weak, making it impossible to stand.
Despite not being able to see the face of his attacker in the pitch-black darkness, Jake’s fierce blue eyes came to mind unbidden. The bizarre behavior of trying to make him a traitor by stabbing his arm remained a horrific memory.
As the sound of shoes approaching him grew closer, Hyungoh tightly gripped his pocket knife. Just as he was resolving to fight back rather than be stupidly beaten, someone collapsed with a groan after a dull sound from somewhere.
Startled, he dropped his pocket knife. No. After groping around, he finally picked it up, and blood that had soaked the floor covered his palm. Hyungoh hesitated at the terrible stickiness, then drew in a sharp breath.
Blood?
As if his heart wasn’t about to explode already, a massive explosion shook the entire building. Red light came through the window on the opposite side, which broke with a sharp sound.
Hyungoh stood up dazedly as his vision turned white. A small spark gradually grew into a massive flame.
At the moment the flames were about to engulf him along with glass fragments rushing in like hyenas, someone from somewhere embraced him.
“Heuk!”
He hit the wall as they rolled from the pressure. After expelling his held breath, he saw that the place where he had just been was now engulfed in long flames.
This can’t be. Feeling dizzy, he turned his head to see the man who had fallen while tightly embracing him.
“Michael!”
He barely held back tears as relief at his safety and gratitude for saving him once again washed over him simultaneously. As he propped up the limp Michael against the wall, a chilling sensation numbed all his nerves at Michael’s unusually pale complexion.
Moving his stiffly frozen eyes with effort, he checked around Michael’s chest area.
“…Ah.”
Hyungoh covered his eyes. No, not satisfied with just covering them, he thrashed them about, crushing his face.
The nosebleed that wouldn’t stop flowed down his wrist. Ahhh. His lips, making groaning sounds, were stained red with blood.
Michael raised his trembling eyes with effort to look up at Hyungoh. Only the sound of wheezing breath came from his moving lips.
His chest, where his hand fell powerlessly to the cold floor, had Hyungoh’s pocket knife deeply embedded in its center.
