Do not look behind you.
He is already here.
Those words burned in my mind.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
Beside me, Sua kept walking, her face hidden under her gray cap.
”How close is he?” she whispered.
Her voice was steady, but I could see her knuckles turning white as she gripped the hidden shotgun under her jumpsuit.
”I don’t know.
Don’t turn around,” I muttered.
We were thirty feet away from the Ministry of Defense’s back gate.
Two heavily armed military guards stood by a metal barrier, checking the ID cards of delivery workers.
We didn’t have ID cards.
We only had stolen uniforms.
If we stopped now, the Cleaner would get us.
If we rushed the gate, the soldiers would shoot us.
I needed to see the killer without turning my head.
As we walked past a black delivery van parked on the street, I glanced quickly at its side mirror.
The reflection showed the crowded sidewalk behind us.
At first, I didn’t see anyone dangerous.
There were no masked androids.
No men in black suits.
But then I saw him.
About twenty feet back, a man in a plain gray raincoat was walking at our exact pace.
He looked completely normal.
He had messy brown hair and was looking down at his phone like an ordinary office worker.
But his eyes weren’t reading the screen.
They were locked onto the back of Sua’s head.
He was blending in perfectly.
That made him terrifying.
”He’s in a gray raincoat,” I whispered to Sua.
“Twenty feet back.”
”We can’t fight him here,” she said.
“Too many people.
What do we do about the guards at the gate?”
I looked ahead.
A large truck marked City Laundry Services had just pulled up to the security barrier.
Two workers in blue jumpsuits—just like ours—were pushing heavy carts full of dirty linens toward the back door of the building.
”We blend in,” I said.
I grabbed the handle of an empty laundry cart resting near the wall.
I pushed it forward, moving quickly until we were walking right behind the real laundry workers.
”Hey, keep the line moving,” I said to the worker in front of us, acting like we belonged to his team.
The man glanced back, confused for a second, but he saw our blue jumpsuits and just nodded.
As the group reached the gate, the guards checked the driver’s paperwork.
They didn’t bother checking the faces of the four people pushing the carts.
We rolled the carts right past the heavy metal barrier and into the Ministry’s loading dock.
As soon as we were inside, I looked back through the chain-link fence.
The man in the gray raincoat reached the gate.
He tried to walk through, but one of the soldiers stepped in front of him, raising his rifle.
”Restricted area.
ID please,” the guard demanded.
The Cleaner stopped.
He looked past the guard, his cold eyes meeting mine through the fence for one single second.
He didn’t look angry.
He just smiled slightly, turned around, and walked away into the crowd.
He was locked out.
For now.
”This way,” Sua whispered, pulling my sleeve.
We abandoned the laundry cart and slipped through a gray metal door marked Stairwell B.
As soon as the heavy door clicked shut behind us, the noise of the city disappeared.
It was quiet and cool inside.
We leaned against the concrete wall, catching our breath.
I looked at Sua.
Her chest was heaving, and a drop of sweat rolled down her neck.
Just yesterday, she was sitting in her quiet shop, fixing old grandfather clocks and living a normal life.
Now, she was breaking into a military fortress, being hunted by a professional assassin, all because she chose to help a man who had already died forty-six times.
”You’re shaking,” I said softly.
She looked down at her hands.
They were trembling slightly.
She quickly hid them inside her pockets.
”I’m fine,” she lied, forcing a tough smile.
“I just really hate running.
Next time you time-travel, buy a car first.”
I let out a quiet laugh.
Even when she was terrified, she was brave.
“I’ll write it down in the book.”
”Come on,” she said, her eyes turning serious again.
“The server room is on the basement level.
Let’s find your dead detective.”
We walked quietly down the concrete stairs.
The basement of the Ministry was a maze of white hallways and bright fluorescent lights.
Because it was Sunday morning, the area was mostly empty.
We turned a corner and hid behind a large pillar.
At the end of the hallway was a heavy steel door with a digital keypad.
A sign above it read: Main Server Control.
And standing right in front of that door was Detective Park.
Seeing him made my stomach twist.
He looked exactly like the man who had interrogated me yesterday.
He wore the same messy brown trench coat.
He had the same tired bags under his eyes.
But I knew the real Park was lying dead in a pool of his own blood at the police station. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
This thing wearing his face stood perfectly still.
He wasn’t breathing heavily.
He wasn’t shifting his weight.
He just stared at the steel door like a statue waiting for a command.
”Is that him?” Sua whispered, peeking around the pillar.
”Yeah,” I breathed.
“That’s the android.”
”How do we get the keys from him?
If I shoot him here, the noise will bring the entire military base down on us.”
She was right.
A shotgun blast was too loud.
We needed a quiet way to take him down.
Suddenly, my chest pocket grew warm again.
I pulled out the Death Log.
Fresh black ink appeared on the page.
Run 47.
Do not attack him.
Look at his left hand.
I frowned and peeked back around the pillar.
I zoomed in on Park’s left hand.
He was holding something small and white.
It was a piece of torn, yellowed paper.
My breath hitched.
“He has it,” I whispered.
“He’s holding the second fragment of Page 12.”
But before I could even think of a plan, the android suddenly turned his head.
He didn’t look around the hallway.
He looked directly at the pillar we were hiding behind.
His dead eyes seemed to pierce right through the concrete.
”Ji-hoo,” Park’s voice echoed down the empty hallway.
It sounded exactly like the real detective, but completely hollow.
“I know you are there.
Director Baek told me you would come.”
Sua froze, her hand gripping her weapon.
How did he know my name?
The androids at the police station only called me Run 47.
Park slowly raised the torn piece of paper in the air.
With his other hand, he pulled a silver metal lighter from his coat pocket.
He clicked it open, a small flame dancing in the cold hallway.
”No!” I gasped.
He was going to burn the clue.
He was going to destroy the only thing that could tell me who was destroying the city.
”If you want this,” the fake Detective Park said coldly, bringing the flame closer to the paper.
“Come and take it.”
Chapter 9: The Lighter and the Trigger