11 years ago,
Before Shan Wolf rescued everyone from the torment of being child mercenaries, deep in the Amazon, the camp was throwing a celebration.
"Why are we doing this again?" Helean asked, unfazed, as if the festivities were meaningless.
"Give it a rest," said Daniel, the chief of the camp. "That boy just completed one of the hardest missions in history. Honestly, he managed to infiltrate North Korea and get out clean."
As the celebration got underway, the sound of cheering rose from the center of the camp. One person—one of their own—was the focus. Fireworks exploded overhead, painting the night sky with bursts of color, and the air smelled of alcohol and smoke.
Through the cheering crowd roared a Harley Street 750. A young boy rode it toward the center of the camp, tires kicking up dirt in a cloud of dust.
He slid the bike to a halt, swung his leg off, and placed the helmet on the seat. The crowd parted as he walked forward, taking a thick brown cigar from his pocket.
He struck a match against his boot and lit the tip of the cigar, the flame briefly crackling against a girl's thigh as she giggled nervously, a tiny scar of heat sizzling into the air.
"There he is—the boy of the hour. Welcome back, 000. Or should I say… GRIM HIMSELF, YOU LOTS!" Daniel's voice boomed like an announcer, and the crowd erupted into cheers.
The child mercenaries clapped and stomped their feet, their energy contagious. Shan Wolf was dragged toward the center, the crowd chanting, wanting him to show what he had.
"Come on, Boo. Show them what you got!" a young girl shouted, tugging Shan Wolf by the wrist like a little sister demanding his attention.
Shan Wolf bent down and ruffled Eva Kim's hair—she was twelve, full of mischief and fire. "Alright, Viper," he said, smiling faintly.
He stepped into the center of the dust-strewn clearing. Music started pounding from hidden speakers, and Shan Wolf began moving.
Each step, each motion, carried the confidence of someone who had faced death countless times. He spun, slid, and stomped, sending clouds of dirt rising from the ground. His cigar smoke trailed in the air, curling like smoke signals above his head.
The crowd mirrored his energy, slamming their palms onto the ground, stomping in rhythm, cheering every bold movement.
Shan Wolf's eyes gleamed as he danced, a mixture of pride, recklessness, and the raw thrill of being recognized by people who had once been just his comrades-in-arms.
Eva Kim jumped up and down, waving her small fists in the air, squealing with delight. Others imitated her, laughing, shouting, and reaching toward the dancing boy who had become a legend among them.
The night was alive, a swirl of music, smoke, and celebration, and at the heart of it all was Shan Wolf—GRIM HIMSELF—moving with the reckless joy of someone who had survived hell and returned triumphant.
Then Shan Wolf noticed Roger, a mercenary commander who had trained them to wield guns and artillery, signaling him from the edge of the celebration.
"Go have fun," Shan Wolf said to Eva. She grinned, nodding before running back to join the others in the festivities.
Shan Wolf followed Roger into the dense forest, the shadows of trees swallowing them in the dim light. "What is this? Another assignment?"
"Yes," Roger replied, his voice calm as he slowly pulled out a gun and leveled it at Shan Wolf.
"Oi? Is this a joke? Am I getting—punk—!"
Before Shan Wolf could finish, a silent shot struck him in the chest. He staggered back, pain exploding through his body. "The hell… what did I do?" he gasped, clutching his wound, limping through the undergrowth.
"You were good… too good," Roger said, a hint of sorrow—or was it regret?—in his tone.
Suddenly, movement from the shadows. Faruk stepped forward, gun trained, firing a precise shot at Shan Wolf's leg, cutting off his ability to stand properly. Shan Wolf stumbled, nearly hitting the ground, but kept moving despite the agony.
Then Fujimoto Tosaki appeared from behind a tree, aiming for Shan Wolf's arm. The bullet struck, sending shards of pain up his limb, crippling his grip. Shan Wolf growled, teeth clenched, staggering on his damaged body.
Daniel emerged next, stepping quietly through the forest floor, his gun aimed with terrifying precision.
A shot rang out, cutting through Shan Wolf's senses, dulling his vision for a brief second, his reflexes slowing as the pain accumulated.
Helean wasn't there—she had been excluded—but the others were methodical, cold, unflinching. Each shot was placed with the intent to disable, to incapacitate rather than kill… yet the sting of betrayal cut deeper than any wound.
One by one, Shan Wolf's body was assaulted—chest, legs, arms, senses. He staggered, every breath labored, every step forced.
Sweat mixed with blood as he realized: this was no battlefield; this was a setup. And the ones he trusted… had turned on him.
Pain screamed through him, but so did fury. He blinked past the haze, trying to read the intent in their eyes. Not hatred. Not anger. Calculated… professional.
Yet somewhere deeper, beneath the forest canopy and the cloud of gun smoke, Shan Wolf knew this was only the opening move. The real reason, the true mastermind… was still hidden.
Soon, another figure emerged from the shadows. It was one of Shan Wolf's age sections. The age sections had always been divided carefully: 5–10, 10–15, and 15–18.
Shan Wolf's eyes widened. "002? Joker? What is the meaning of this?!" he demanded, his voice a mix of shock and disbelief.
002, codename Joker, stepped forward, calm and composed. But those who knew him—or thought they did—knew he had another name.
He was the prodigy of a thousand faces, a master of deception. Joker always wore a different mask for each assigned mission, hiding not only his face but his intentions, his thoughts… even his allegiance.
Now, standing before Shan Wolf, the mask he wore revealed nothing, yet spoke volumes. This was no ordinary mission. This was personal.
Shan Wolf froze as Joker stepped closer, the forest closing in around them. His body ached from the shots, every step heavier than the last, but it was the look in Joker's eyes—or rather, the cold glint behind the mask—that made his blood run cold.
"Joker…" Shan Wolf rasped, disbelief cracking his voice. "002… why? We grew up together, trained together… you were my comrade!"
Joker's head tilted, almost casually, but there was a sharp edge in his tone. "Comrade?" he scoffed, a bitter laugh hidden beneath the mask.
"I watched you, Shan… always praised, always celebrated. The boy of legend. Everyone cheering for you… while I stayed in the shadows, doing the work that no one noticed."
Shan Wolf staggered back, the pain in his chest momentarily forgotten, replaced by shock. "Jealousy? You… you're betraying me… over jealousy?"
Joker's footsteps were slow, deliberate, each one echoing in the tense silence of the forest. "Not just jealousy. Envy. Resentment. You got everything handed to you—the glory, the recognition, the power. And me? I was the prodigy… the one who could have been anything. But no one saw me. No one needed me—until now."
Shan Wolf gritted his teeth. "You think this… this betrayal makes you stronger? You think taking me down will… fix that?"
Joker stopped a few feet away, the mask catching the faint light of the distant campfires.
"I don't need to fix anything," he said softly, venom barely restrained. "I just need to prove… that I am the one who matters. That I am the one who decides who lives, who dies… who gets remembered."
Shan Wolf's fury burned hotter than his pain. "I never wanted to outshine you. I… we were supposed to have each other's backs!"
"Backs?" Joker hissed, stepping closer, voice low and dangerous. "Your back never needed protecting. Yours was always the one people cheered for. Mine… mine was invisible. And now, finally… I get my spotlight."
For a moment, the forest seemed to hold its breath. Shan Wolf's eyes narrowed, a storm of pain, betrayal, and defiance warring within him. Joker's jealousy had driven him here—but Shan Wolf had survived worse than envy. He would survive this, too.
And when he did… Joker would regret ever letting jealousy rule him.
Before Shan Wolf could utter a word, Joker's gun fired. The bullet struck him squarely in the chest, at the heart.
Shan Wolf staggered backward, his body rigid for a moment before tipping over the edge of a cliff, plunging into the roaring waterfall below.
"Hmm… so sad," Joker said, his voice cold, almost cruelly amused.
The others watched, frozen, certain that Shan Wolf was dead. Little did they know, his body was carried away by the currents, disappearing from the camp's sight.
Six hours passed. The river's waves dragged Shan Wolf along, bruising and battered, his consciousness flickering in and out.
Just as his strength waned, a figure appeared on the riverbank, noticing the drifting body. They immediately signaled for reinforcements, urgency in every motion.
Shan Wolf forced his eyes open, blurred by pain and exhaustion, and saw the uniform—not that of a mercenary, but a military uniform.
The figure's stance was alert, professional, and somehow… familiar in a way that promised help, not harm.
For the first time since Joker's betrayal, Shan Wolf felt a flicker of hope amidst the pain, even as the world around him raged in turmoil.
Present day… 11 years later
"Should I tell you who the culprit is…?"
Gang Si Won dropped the bombshell question on Shan Wolf. Something in Shan Wolf stirred—an uneasy, familiar knot in his gut. His mind raced back to the hidden camera incident (the coin incident from chapter 1)… and the pieces started to click together.
"Oi… don't tell me…" Shan Wolf muttered, realization flashing across his eyes. Gang Si Won's cocky behavior, his smug attitude—all of it made sense now.
Gang Si Won's lips curved into a wicked, almost predatory smile. "I thought about turning myself in," he said, his voice teasing, "but I decided to keep watching… after some… interesting events unfolded."
Shan Wolf lunged forward, gripping Gang Si Won by the collar. "WHY?! Why in fuck's name did you do it?!" he demanded, fury radiating from every word.
Gang Si Won chuckled, raising both hands in mock surrender. "Do I really need to give a reason for a pervert to do his own shitty thing?"
Shan Wolf's grip tightened. "You're a rich asshole! Getting girls is easy for you… so why?"
Gang Si Won tilted his head, a gleam of mischief and malice in his eyes. "Why? Oh come on, Shan… do you really want to know…?"
He leaned in and delivered the words like a dagger. "Because the Joker needs to see the Grim crumble…"
Shan Wolf's eyes widened in disbelief. "002…? Joker?"
"Kekeke… finally rings a bell, Grim…—!"
Fueled by rage, Shan Wolf pushed Gang Si Won off the edge of the unfinished building. Both men plummeted, the wind roaring past them.
"YOU'RE DEAD, FUCKER!!!" Shan Wolf screamed.
"AHAHAHAHA!!!"
They fell… but time seemed to reverse. Shan Wolf's senses flared—his ability kicking in. He saw the fall rewind, the world folding back on itself.
"Because the Joker needs to see the Grim crumble…"
Shan Wolf's gaze locked on Gang Si Won, now fully realizing the truth. Eleven years ago, the boy he knew as 002, the prodigy, the masked mercenary… had been right in front of him all along. Gang Si Won had been the Joker.
And now, after all these years, the game had returned to the start.
"Then… where is the real Gang Si Won?" Shan asked, his voice low but sharp.
"You're looking at him, Grim…"
Shan Wolf narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, right… like I'd trust—"
"I mean it," Gang Si Won interrupted, his tone calm but loaded. "I found out eleven years ago that I was the son of Chairman Eh San Won. The five commanders decided to use me as leverage… to get what they wanted. You know… the cash."
Shan's jaw tightened.
"Of course, I learned this and decided to offer myself in exchange for one thing: your death, Grim," Gang Si Won continued. "Pity, though. The terrorist attack was foolproof… until you interfered."
"I don't know what you mean… what terrorist attack?" Shan Wolf asked, his voice rising, confusion mixing with anger.
Gang Si Won turned to him, expression unimpressed, almost mocking. "Keke… I was the one who ordered the attack. Of course I knew about your little secret. You can reverse time… by dying itself."
Shan's eyes widened.
"And if you want to know how I got this info," Gang Si Won leaned closer, the words dripping with smugness, "let's just say it wasn't that dumb Eva Kim. It was your biological sister, Xiang Mei Li, who came to me… and told me everything."
Shan Wolf's fists clenched. Every revelation cut deeper than the last.
"So… what does this mean…" Shan Wolf asked, his voice low, tense, searching for the thread of truth in the chaos.
"It means I will take what's rightfully mine," Gang Si Won said, pointing toward Won Group. Shan Wolf's eyes narrowed as he understood the target immediately. "I will claim Won Group as mine."
Gang Si Won's gaze shifted toward a small box at his feet. He bent down and opened it to reveal a tiny puppy—a Siberian Husky, trembling slightly.
"I went through a lot because of my unique character," he said, lifting the puppy and staring at it. "I was nothing more than a brought-in son from the camp, the family thinking I'm a black sheep."
He shook his head, almost wistfully. "Do you think anyone would believe I'm the chaebol's son? Me… surviving that mercenary camp, living through everything…"
Gang Si Won's gaze hardened as he looked toward the bridge. "But it doesn't matter. In the end… you guys won't be able to do SHIT!!!"
With deliberate cruelty, he tossed the small puppy off the bridge.
"My, you've gone soft, Grim," he taunted.
Shan Wolf reacted instantly. With one arm, he grabbed the puppy mid-fall, holding it safely against his chest as he dangled over the edge. His heart pounded—not from the exertion, but from the mix of fury and disbelief.
"And here I thought you were a wolf… living up to that fake name," Gang Si Won sneered. "Now, you're nothing more than a sickly mutt."
He turned and walked back toward the company building, every step confident, every word cutting deep. "Till then… will you turn back into a beast, after experiencing some… intriguing events?"
Shan Wolf hung there, gripping the puppy tightly, his body tense, his mind spinning. The words burned like fire: beast… intriguing events… And in that moment, he knew the storm was only beginning.
Back at Won Group, IR Department
Ingrid Mikage stared at her computer screen in utter disbelief, her fingers frozen over the keyboard. "What… is this…" she muttered.
She typed again, and again, but all that appeared was a notice: Intranet server inspection completed.
"It's all gone," she whispered, her voice trembling. "All the data… everything on Gang Si Won, from the time he became manager… it's all gone."
Her fingers moved faster, almost unconsciously, digging deeper into the system. What she discovered next made her step back from the desk, heart hammering.
"Impossible… including the hidden camera incident…?"
Her eyes widened as the implications hit her. Everything connected to Gang Si Won—every secret, every trace of the past—had been erased.
The room felt colder, the silence heavier. Somewhere, far away, the pieces of the puzzle were finally falling into place…
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Chapter 75 — End