Federico tensed his arms as if he might rise from his wheelchair at any moment. His eyes, which usually appeared cold and narrowed, were now wide with shock.
He never expected that man would throw himself to save his nephew, who was merely a tool. No, it wasn’t that he hadn’t anticipated it at all, but it was still nothing short of astonishing.
Federico already knew what kind of end he wished to meet. That’s why he had trusted him. Even if his nephew was necessary to complete his perfect death, he never thought he would try to save him in such a crude manner.
Hunter Kim. Ah, my foolish brother.
As he surveyed the chaotic surroundings, he spotted Michael standing blankly between the thick tree trunks.
Yes, child. I must seem ridiculous to you. You warned me sufficiently, and I overlooked it. Federico smiled at Michael’s eyes, which glowed even more blue under the moonlight.
A man who had helplessly lost sight of Marsha as she rushed toward Hunter flinched at Federico’s grotesque smile.
“So it was Hunter, Michael.”
The ‘sacrifice’ you spoke of.
* * *
Hyungoh blankly looked down at Hunter, who had his eyes closed as if peacefully asleep. His skin was pale, but due to the darkness of night, his figure was sinking into the shadows. And the same was true for Hyungoh himself.
Yes, dark and quiet. Hyungoh slowly caressed Hunter’s hand. It’s even cold.
Everything felt strange. From the smallest noises to the sensation transmitted through his fingertips. In this moment, he felt as if he were trapped alone in suspended time.
Hyungoh suddenly recalled an old memory. Those words that Michael had carefully uttered with all ten fingers splayed out, when he had only reached up to Hyungoh’s waist.
Dark, quiet, and cold,
Marsha, who had rushed over, pushed aside the stunned Hyungoh and laid Hunter on her lap. As she pressed firmly on Hunter’s wound with the pressure bandage she had been wearing, Hyungoh turned his back to her and slowly curled his blood-reddened fingers.
Unfamiliar sounds, and unfamiliar sensations,
“Hunter!”
Theo’s roar could be heard not far away. The vibrations of dozens of footsteps transmitted through the ground tightened around him like pressure.
The moonlight, which had been the only illumination for the lake stained with a bleak and miserable color, was blocked by seven helicopters that had appeared, slicing through the wind.
Simultaneously, Hyungoh was captured by a pitch-black vision. The image of Hunter dying miserably, vomiting blood, gradually distorted.
Red blood, scattered corpses,
A man with a familiar face clutched his own gaping stomach and wailed. His eyes, hidden behind messily covering bangs, were both pitiful and disgusting.
And…
Someone placed a hand on Hyungoh’s shoulder. It was so careful that it felt as natural as if it had finally become soaked by gently falling rain.
Hyungoh didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. As far as he knew, only one person had a touch that made the contacted area feel so hot it might melt away.
“…Murderer.”
Hyungoh no longer concealed his boiling emotions. He spat the word toward Michael standing behind him, in a voice that seemed like he might thrust a knife at any moment. Yet his finger was, regrettably, pointing at himself.
* * *
“I don’t know how to express my gratitude, Mr. Scofield.”
Special Agent David, who had been talking with other agents, immediately approached when he spotted Taylor walking through the corridor.
“Not at all, I should be the one thanking you.”
Taylor, who had been keeping a cold, rigid expression until just a moment ago, smiled broadly. As he continued walking without stopping, David persistently followed.
“I’m not just saying that. You’ve been a great help to our investigation by becoming a reliable ally.”
David was determined to remain vigilant to the end rather than making a fuss or becoming self-absorbed about arresting Federico Gostin, a crime syndicate kingpin. But inside, he was so excited he wanted to rush up to Taylor and shower him with kisses.
It was none other than Gostin. Among all criminal organizations, none boasted such a long history and reputation.
The whole world would pay attention to this case. Because the organization had such deep roots, it was certain that celebrities with public support, politicians, and even world-renowned corporations would be implicated.
That’s why he had to be wary and suspicious. Surely the son of a famous IT company CEO wouldn’t voluntarily take actions that would put him in the crosshairs of the mafia?
When David first met Taylor, he couldn’t hide his surprise at the materials on mafia organizations that Taylor had personally prepared, which were thicker than an encyclopedia. Seeing the abundance of confidential information that the FBI had not yet obtained, he speculated that Taylor might be an internal informant, but there was no reason for further suspicion.
Upon investigating him a bit more, David learned that Taylor had been kidnapped in his youth by a gang that was a pawn of the mafia. This led to the hypothesis that he couldn’t forget that time and harbored a grudge against the mafia, seeking revenge.
However, all of this was merely speculation. For now, they needed to process Federico Gostin, whom they had captured with Taylor’s help. Digging into Taylor’s background was a matter for later.
“We’ve already taken measures, so you don’t need to worry about personal protection. I’ll be in touch again.”
“Understood, Special Agent David.”
David, who had just received a call from his superiors, took out his cell phone from his inner jacket pocket and nodded to Taylor.
Taylor slightly bowed his head to David as he walked away, then immediately erased his smile. As he hurried his previously halted steps down a corridor, he saw two burly men guarding the entrance to a hospital room.
When Taylor stood before them, slightly adjusting his clothes, they personally opened the door for him. Upon entering, the sharp smell of antiseptic greeted him.
“Hunter.”
Taylor dispassionately called out after confirming the man lying neatly in bed, barely breathing through an oxygen respirator.
Hunter was still unconscious. In a word, he was in a coma. According to the attending physician, unfortunately, the probability of him waking up was lower than the probability of becoming a vegetative patient or dying of brain death.
“…You’re not alone.”
Taylor locked eyes with Marsha, who was standing rigidly, ignoring the perfectly functional chair. Despite her outward appearance of loyally guarding Hunter’s side, her expression showed neither sadness nor regret.
As if by mutual agreement, Marsha and Taylor sealed their lips and silently stared at each other for a while.
