The rain was gone, but the wind on the roof was cold enough to bite through our thin mechanic jumpsuits.
Ten paces away, the squad of military guards held their rifles locked onto us.
Between them stood the Cleaner, his grey raincoat whipping softly around his ankles.
The sleek black pistol in his hand looked small, almost delicate, compared to the military rifles surrounding him, but there was nothing small about the way he held it.
His fingers were completely relaxed.
His posture was easy.
He wasn’t afraid of us, and he certainly wasn’t afraid of the soldiers.
”Drop the shotgun, girl,” the Cleaner said.
His voice was shockingly pleasant, like a neighbor greeting you over a garden fence.
“You’ve done remarkably well for someone who was supposed to die in a pile of clock gears last night.”
Sua didn’t drop the weapon.
Her thumb rested squarely on the double hammers, her eyes fixed on his chest.
“Try coming a step closer, grey-coat.
See how well your coat handles buckshot.”
The Cleaner chuckled, taking a slow step forward anyway.
“A sawed-off 12-gauge at twelve yards?
The spread is too wide.
You’ll catch two of these fine young soldiers in the crossfire, and my body armor will absorb whatever pellets hit my sternum.
Meanwhile, my first shot goes through your windpipe, and my second goes through your friend’s knee.”
I swallowed, the dry air burning my bruised throat.
The Death Log in my chest pocket remained cold—dead silent.
Why aren’t you updating?
I screamed internally at the book.
Give me a exit.
Give me a code.
Give me something!
Nothing.
No heat.
No fresh red ink.
The realization hit me like a slap to the face: the book only warned me about threats my past selves had documented.
They had never forced the Aegis Grid to turn on early.
I was completely on my own.
”You’re Director Baek’s man,” I said, stepping slightly in front of Sua to draw the Cleaner’s focus.
”I’m a private contractor,” the Cleaner corrected lightly.
“Director Baek pays on time, and his vision for this city is…
efficient.
No crime.
No mess.
Just clean, predictable data.” He gestured toward the glowing blue streets of Seoul far below us.
“Look down there, Ji-hoo.
The city isn’t screaming.
It’s obeying.
Why fight it?”
”Because he’s skinning people alive to build it,” I said.
The soldiers around us shifted uncomfortably, their eyes darting between me and the Cleaner.
”Captain!” one of the younger soldiers called out to his commander.
“What is he talking about?
Who is this guy in the raincoat?
Command said we were intercepting terrorists—”
”Quiet down, Private,” the squad leader barked, though his own rifle trembled slightly.
“We follow Director Baek’s direct authorization.
Stand down and let the agent work.”
”He’s not an agent,” Sua called out, her voice loud and clear over the howling wind.
“He’s a paid hitman!
The man who gave you that order downstairs wasn’t even human—we just destroyed its battery core in your own server room!”
”That’s enough,” the Cleaner sighed.
His arm moved.
It wasn’t a sudden, jerky motion; it was a smooth, terrifyingly fast blur.
BANG!
The shot wasn’t aimed at me, and it wasn’t aimed at Sua.
The young Private who had spoken up gasped, his hands flying to his throat as he collapsed onto the wet tar of the roof. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
Blood pooled instantly around his boots.
”Private!” the squad leader screamed, dropping his defensive posture in utter shock.
”He was asking too many questions,” the Cleaner said casually, swinging his barrel toward the squad leader’s forehead.
“Now, Captain, you can either step back and let me clean up this roof, or you can join him.”
The soldiers hesitated, trapped between military discipline and absolute horror.
”Now, Sua!” I yelled.
Sua didn’t shoot the Cleaner.
She swung her double barrels downward and fired both rounds straight into the heavy industrial air-conditioning unit sitting on the tar right beside us.
BOOM!
The point-blank blast shattered the unit’s pressurized coolant lines.
A massive, blinding cloud of white freon gas and sparking electrical wiring erupted into the cold night air, instantly swallowing the roof in a thick, freezing fog.
”Cover your face!” I roared, grabbing Sua’s hand.
Gunfire exploded inside the white smoke.
The soldiers, panicked by the sudden blindness and the murder of their squadmate, began firing wildly.
Bullets whizzed past my ears, punching holes into the metal ductwork around us.
”Where are we going?!” Sua shouted, coughing as the chemical fog bit into her lungs.
”The window washer’s rig!” I yelled back, remembering the heavy steel crane assembly I had spotted near the roof’s northern edge when we first burst through the vents.
We sprinted through the blinding fog, relying entirely on memory.
My boots hit the low concrete lip at the edge of the roof.
Ten stories down, the blue-lit streets waited to catch us.
Directly in front of us hung a heavy iron platform attached to thick steel cables, suspended over the drop.
”Jump!” I shouted.
We threw ourselves over the ledge, landing hard on the rusted metal floor of the window washing platform.
The sudden weight caused the winch system above to screech violently, the platform dropping three feet with a sickening jerk before the emergency brakes caught.
A shadowy figure emerged at the roof’s edge through the clearing smoke above us.
The Cleaner looked down, his grey coat whipping in the wind.
He didn’t look flustered.
He didn’t even look angry.
He simply raised his pistol, aiming down at the suspended platform.
I grabbed the mechanical release lever on the crane assembly and slammed it down with all my weight.
The cable brake snapped open.
The platform plummeted into the dark.