The rain poured down in unrelenting sheets, a gray curtain over the city. The rooftop where it had all ended now lay silent. Tsugumi's body was sprawled near the edge, his eyes still wide open—frozen in humiliation, betrayal, and anguish. His final emotions remained etched on his face, unblinking even in death. His tears had mixed with the rainwater, becoming one with it. His blood, a crimson stream, had mingled with the runoff, making the rooftop look like a battlefield of lost souls.
And Johnson?
He walked away.
No remorse. No hesitation. No fear.
For him, this was just another step in the path of his vengeance. Tsugumi had merely been an obstacle—one who had outlived his use. Johnson's footsteps echoed down the stairwell of the abandoned building, and he reached the third floor with one thought lingering in his mind: Why was this place abandoned in the first place?
The third floor's door was weak. A solid kick and it flew open, the hinges screeching in protest. The sight that met him was revolting.
Two skeletons lay in the room, half-decayed and crusted in dried blood. The walls bore splatters—evidence of past violence. The furniture had collapsed under time's weight, the TV shattered, the AC half-hanging from its socket, and rust covered every visible metallic surface. The fan blades lay scattered like broken wings. Johnson's expression remained unchanged. He examined the skeletons briefly.
It was murder, he deduced.
Someone had slaughtered the previous inhabitants, and nobody had ever found out. This place was a ghost's memory now.
He found nothing else of interest and closed the door.
Next, he descended to the second floor. This door took more effort. He threw his shoulder into it, the wood cracking before it finally gave way. The floor was largely empty—just a dusty, rotting room. Cobwebs hung in every corner. It was less disturbing, but it told a silent story: someone had left in a hurry... or never made it out.
Nothing useful.
Finally, Johnson reached the first floor. He prepared to force the last door open when—
"Bhau bhau!"
The bark stopped him cold.
The door flung open, and a brown dog lunged toward him—but not with violence. Its eyes were cautious, its body tense. Johnson crouched, extending a closed fist toward it, letting the dog sniff him. He had always known how to tame animals. He waited.
The dog sniffed once, then backed away, growling faintly before retreating into a nearby room. A few seconds later, it went silent.
Johnson stood up, disappointed.
> "Useless mutt. If you don't want to be my friend," he said coldly, "then you're not worth keeping alive."
Without another word, he pulled out his pistol. One bullet was all it took.
BANG.
The silence that followed was heavier than any scream.
He left the body there, lifeless and bleeding onto the floorboards, and walked out casually. Soon, he reached his stolen car, started the engine, and disappeared into the wet night.
---
The Next Day
A passerby noticed a foul stench coming from the abandoned building. Curiosity became concern when they discovered a lifeless body on the rooftop.
It was Tsugumi.
The police arrived swiftly. They questioned the witness but got no leads—he had merely discovered the corpse. As the investigation began, officers entered the building.
On the first floor, they were startled to find the body of a dog—blood pooled under its crushed skull. The sight disturbed even the seasoned detectives. The animal had been killed execution-style. It wasn't just an abandoned building anymore. Something truly sinister had happened here.
They moved to the rooftop—and that's where everything changed.
There, mounted high on the wall, was a functioning CCTV camera. The officers accessed the feed, praying it hadn't been wiped.
And there it was.
Clear footage of Johnson—the same man from the courtroom bombing—emotionally destroying Tsugumi, manipulating him, driving him into despair before brutally stabbing him. It was psychological and physical execution. The officers were stunned by the calm precision of the act. One muttered, "He's done this before."
They were right.
The footage was stored. A new statement was added to Johnson's rap sheet. Three confirmed attacks already, and now this. While the dog's murder wasn't yet confirmed, all signs pointed to Johnson. It was labeled under probable animal cruelty, and the wanted notice was updated.
The face of Johnson was now plastered on walls across the city.
---
At Kamiko's House
Alan had finally returned home. Weeks had passed since the bear attack and his fractured leg, but he was now able to walk again, though not fully recovered. Kamiko had invited him over for a serious conversation.
As Alan sat down, Kamiko locked the door and drew the curtains. His expression was pale and serious.
> "Alan," he said, "you need to know the truth now."
Kamiko told him everything. Johnson's connection to Michelle. The broadcast. The manipulation. The murders. Alan sat there frozen, as if a storm had entered his mind.
> "Wait… are you saying —he is my father ?"
Kamiko nodded solemnly.
> "And he's after me?" Alan asked, barely able to believe it.
> "Yes," Kamiko said. "We need a plan. We need… a reunion."
> "Reunion?" Alan repeated, confused.
> "All of us. The group. Kaguro, Bachi, Kashimo. If we don't unite, we're going to die. He won't stop. He's like a machine programmed for revenge."
Alan stared into space.
> "So what do we do?"
> "We ask them," Kamiko replied. He opened Telegram.
---
Telegram Group Chat
Kamiko: hi guys! did you see what is happening?
Kaguro: yeah, it's serious. he just told me a while ago.
Kamiko: @Bachi @Kashimo please listen to me
Bachi: hey, why are you tagging me?
Kashimo: yeah bro, what's going on?
Kaguro: just listen to Kamiko.
Kamiko: it's serious. alan's real dad is looking for him. to kill him.
Kashimo: wait what? are you serious?
Bachi: is this like… a hollywood thriller?
Kaguro: I don't care what it is, we need a plan.
Kamiko: we must reunite. to survive. to stop him. to fight him or hand him over. but something must be done. now or never.
Kaguro: I'm in.
Bachi: same.
Kashimo: wait— is this for real?
Kamiko: did you see the broadcast?
Kashimo: yes.
Kamiko: he mentioned michelle. that's enough to confirm.
Kashimo: then yeah, this is really messed up.
Kamiko: it's now or never. please, join us.
Kashimo: I'm in.
Kamiko: let's meet at the park at 4.
Everyone agrees.
---
4:00 PM — At the Park
The boys gathered at their usual spot—a quiet, almost forgotten corner near an old pool, surrounded by trees and silence. For a brief moment, it felt like old times. But reality shattered the mood quickly.
"Now what?" Kashimo asked.
"We create a plan," Kaguro said, staring into the distance.
"If Johnson—or anyone—shows up at my place, I'll call you immediately," Kamiko said. "You must come. No delays."
"Got it," Kaguro nodded.
Alan looked at Kamiko. "What was my father's full name?"
Kamiko hesitated. "I don't know…"
Just then, Bachi pointed. "Yo, what's that? On the other side of the pool?"
A wanted poster was nailed to a rusted board.
"Let's check it," Kaguro said.
They all walked toward it.
There he was. Johnson. His face cold and cruel, staring at them from the ink of the poster.
"Hey," Kamiko said, "isn't that the guy from the broadcast?"
"Yeah," Kaguro confirmed. "It's him."
"So… Alan's father is this guy?" Kashimo asked slowly.
Alan stepped forward. "Johnson. That was my dad's name…"
Kamiko clenched his fists. "Then it's confirmed. I'll alert everyone the moment I spot him."
Each of them nodded. A silent agreement was made under the blood-red sunset.
The tension between Alan and his father had reached its boiling point. The noose was tightening. The game had changed.
And they were no longer just kids.
They were targets.
Chapter 19 Ends
To be continued…