I pushed through the glass doors like I owned the place, which was a complete fucking lie considering my current track record.
Daniel Park. Level: Still Not High Enough. Class: Perpetually Confused Protagonist. Special Ability: Getting Dragged Into Shit I Don't Understand.
The lobby was dead quiet. Too quiet. You know that moment in every anime where the hero shows up and realizes they're already too late? Yeah. That feeling was crawling up my spine like a particularly unwelcome spider.
The receptionist looked up. Her expression did that classic NPC shift from "how may I help you" to "why are four dangerous-looking teenagers in my office."
Fair question, honestly.
"We need to see Prosecutor Choi," I said.
She blinked at me. At the guys behind me. Back to me.
"I'm sorry, but Prosecutor Choi left about ten minutes ago. She had a filing at the courthouse."
...
Of course she fucking did.
[QUEST UPDATE: INTERCEPT PROSECUTOR CHOI]
[STATUS: YOU'RE ALREADY BEHIND, GENIUS]
[TIME REMAINING: WHO KNOWS? NOT YOU, APPARENTLY]
Ten minutes. In video game logic, that's like three loading screens and a cutscene. In real life? Could be nothing. Could be everything.
"Which courthouse?"
The receptionist's fingers froze over her keyboard. "I can't give out that information—"
"Please."
I leaned forward, hands flat on the desk. Tried to channel every desperate protagonist energy I had, which wasn't hard because I was desperate and I was a protagonist, even if I was a shitty one.
"It's urgent. She could be in danger."
Please buy it. Please buy it. I'm not even lying this time.
She studied my face. Whatever she saw there—probably the eye bags and the general aura of "my life is a mess"—made her hesitate.
Her eyes flicked to the screen. Back to me.
"Seoul Central District Court. But I really shouldn't—"
I was already moving.
Thank you, random NPC. You're the real MVP.
Zack caught up at the elevators. Hudson and Vasco right behind him.
"You think something happened?" Vasco asked.
"I don't know."
I jabbed the down button. Once. Twice. Three times. Like that would make it come faster. It did not, in fact, make it come faster.
"But we can't take that chance."
Because that's what protagonists do, right? Rush into situations they don't fully understand with incomplete information and hope it works out?
...God, I'm going to die doing this one day.
The elevator chimed. Doors slid open like the game was giving me a checkpoint.
We piled inside.
"If James Lee wanted us to intercept her," Hudson said slowly, "then someone else might want the same thing."
...
Shit.
Shit shit shit.
I watched the numbers tick down. My reflection stared back from the polished steel doors—distorted, stretched, looking exactly how I felt inside.
[INTELLIGENCE CHECK: PASSED]
[YOU'VE FIGURED OUT THE OBVIOUS]
[CONGRATULATIONS, YOU'RE SLIGHTLY LESS STUPID THAN BEFORE]
Zack was right to be suspicious back at the meeting. Charles Choi was dead. The Red Paper shouldn't matter anymore.
Unless it wasn't just about Charles Choi.
Unless someone else wanted it. Someone still alive. Someone still dangerous.
Of course. Of fucking course. Because nothing in my life can ever be simple.
The elevator opened into the parking garage.
We ran.
Please let us be in time. Please let us not find her dead in a ditch somewhere. Please let this not be another situation where I show up just in time to watch everything go to hell.
Please.
---
ELSEWHERE!!!
(Switching POV because apparently I'm omniscient now. Cool. Great. Love that for me.)
Gun's knuckles rapped against the window. Three measured taps.
Polite. Controlled. The kind of knock a serial killer would use.
"Last chance," he said.
[CHARACTER PROFILE UNLOCKED: GUN PARK]
[LEVEL: ??? - SYSTEM ERROR: TOO HIGH TO CALCULATE]
[THREAT LEVEL: FUCKING RUN]
[SPECIAL ABILITY: THOSE EYES THAT MAKE YOU WANT TO SHIT YOURSELF]
Kangmi stared at him through the glass. At those inverted eyes that looked like someone had installed them upside down and decided it was fine, actually, this is how eyes work now.
Yeah, I wouldn't open that door either, lady.
Gun's expression didn't change. He raised his fist. Pulled it back.
Oh. Oh no.
Kangmi's hand shot to the door handle—
Nam's hand closed around Gun's wrist.
PLOT TWIST.
Gun looked down. At the bloodied fingers wrapped around his arm. At the man who should have been taking a nice nap on the pavement after getting his face rearranged.
But Nam was standing.
His face was a Jackson Pollock painting done entirely in red. Blood poured from his broken nose, streamed over his lips and chin like some kind of horrific waterfall.
But he was standing.
"I don't think so," Nam said.
Blood bubbled between his teeth when he spoke. It should have been terrifying. It was terrifying. But there was also something almost... admirable about it?
[NEW QUEST: WITNESS AN ACTUAL BADASS]
[OBJECTIVE: TRY NOT TO FEEL INADEQUATE]
[REWARD: CRIPPLING SELF-DOUBT]
"Interesting," Gun said.
Then he moved.
...
Okay, I need to stop narrating this because I literally cannot see fast enough to describe what's happening.
His hand came up. Nam slipped back. Gun punched. Nam twisted. Elbow. Grab. Knee strike.
It was like watching a manga fight scene except I couldn't pause to appreciate the panels.
[COMBAT ANALYSIS ACTIVE]
[GUN PARK: SPEED - SS RANK]
[GUN PARK: TECHNIQUE - SS RANK]
[GUN PARK: POWER - SS RANK]
[NAM: DETERMINATION - S RANK]
[NAM: EVERYTHING ELSE - FUCKED]
Gun's knee slammed into Nam's stomach. Nam compressed his abs at the last second—some kind of martial arts breathing technique probably—and absorbed it.
Absorbed it.
A knee strike from Gun Park.
This man is built different.
Gun's eyes flickered. Something like recognition.
He stepped back. Created distance.
Nam didn't waste it. He exploded forward with a combination that would've made any MMA fighter proud. Jab to the face. Low kick to the thigh.
Both connected.
Gun's head snapped to the side. The kick slammed into his leg with a sound like a baseball bat hitting meat.
Gun took both hits.
Didn't flinch.
When his head turned back, there was blood on his lip.
He smiled.
Oh no.
"Better than I expected," Gun said. He wiped the blood away with his thumb. Looked at it. Flicked it aside like he was discarding a cigarette. "You're not a simple bodyguard."
[WARNING: BOSS ENEMY IS ENJOYING HIMSELF]
[THIS IS BAD]
[THIS IS VERY BAD]
Nam didn't respond. His face compressed further—cauliflower ears pressing flat against his skull. That permanent expression of irritation deepened into something that looked like pure concentrated anger.
But his breathing was controlled. Steady.
His stance shifted lower. Weight distributed evenly.
He's not giving up.
He knows he can't win.
And he's not giving up anyway.
Gun tilted his neck. Something cracked. He rolled his shoulders.
"Let's see what you're really capable of," he said.
Famous last words before someone gets their ass kicked.
Usually mine.
Nam charged.
...
The fight was brutal. Clinical. Like watching a tutorial video on "How to Dismantle a Human Being in Ten Easy Steps."
Nam threw everything he had. Punches. Kicks. Elbows. Knees. Each one technically perfect. Each one landing with the force of someone who'd spent their entire life learning how to hurt people.
Gun countered every single one.
Not blocked. Countered.
There's a difference.
Blocking is defensive. Countering is... it's like playing chess while your opponent is still learning checkers.
[COMBAT LOG]
[NAM ATTACKS: 47]
[NAM HITS LANDED: 12]
[GUN ATTACKS: 23]
[GUN HITS LANDED: 23]
[EFFICIENCY RATING: THIS ISN'T EVEN FAIR]
Nam pulled a karambit from his belt.
Oh shit, weapons.
The curved blade caught the sunlight. Finger ring at the base. Reverse grip.
Gun's smile widened. "Weapons? I'm honored."
He's honored. The man who's been systematically breaking down a trained killer is HONORED that said killer pulled a knife.
I hate everything about this.
Nam lunged. The karambit hooked toward Gun's throat in a tight arc that would've opened his neck like a zipper.
Gun leaned back. The blade passed an inch from his skin.
One. Inch.
Then Gun grabbed Nam's wrist with both hands.
Nam drove his knee into Gun's ribs. The impact was solid. Heavy. Gun's expression flickered.
Did... did that actually hurt him?
Gun twisted Nam's wrist. Sharp. Precise.
Nam had to release the karambit or have his wrist broken.
The blade clattered to the ground.
Gun kicked it away. Released Nam's arm.
They separated.
...
Nam was shaking. Blood ran down his face in steady streams, soaking into his collar. His left wrist hung at an odd angle. His breathing was heavy, labored.
But his eyes remained shut. Face compressed into that expression of focused irritation.
He's still not giving up.
Gun straightened his jacket. There was blood on the sleeve now. A few wrinkles.
"You're not bad with that weapon," he said. "Former mercenary?"
"Ares," Nam said. His voice was rough. Wet. "On-site combat agent."
"Ah."
Gun nodded slowly. Like a piece had just clicked into place on a puzzle he'd been working on.
"That explains it. I have heard about ARES. Someone I know had an encounter with you guys before. Ironic, isn't it?"
ARES? The private military company? The one that hires actual war veterans and special forces washouts?
This guy is from ARES and he's LOSING?
How strong is Gun Park?
[ANSWER: TOO STRONG]
[FOLLOW-UP QUESTION: HOW FUCKED ARE YOU IF YOU EVER FIGHT HIM?]
[ANSWER: COMPLETELY]
Nam didn't answer. He compressed his muscles. Tightened his core.
Preparing for one more push.
Don't do it. Stay down. You did your best. Nobody would blame you for—
Nam charged.
He's doing it.
Of course he's doing it.
It was desperate. But not sloppy. A straight punch with everything left in the tank. Footwork still precise. Guard still up.
Professional to the end.
Gun stepped into the blow.
Deflected it with his forearm while simultaneously driving his palm into Nam's sternum.
The impact was clean. Precise. Perfect.
[CRITICAL HIT]
Nam's eyes widened. Something shifted in his chest. The air left his lungs and didn't come back.
His legs stopped listening.
Gun's elbow came next—spinning, fast, inevitable—and caught Nam across the temple with the force of a sledgehammer wrapped in a lawsuit.
[K.O.]
Nam hit the pavement face-first.
Heavy. Final.
He didn't get up.
...
Fuck.
Gun stood over him, breathing slightly harder than before. More blood on his suit now. Most of it Nam's. Some of it his own from that jab earlier.
He touched his split lip. Examined the blood.
"You entertained me," Gun said quietly.
To an unconscious man who couldn't hear him anymore.
Because of course. Of course that's what matters to him. Entertainment.
Gun adjusted his jacket. Brushed dust from his sleeve.
Then walked to the car and knocked on the window again.
Kangmi stared at him.
At Nam's body. At the blood pooling beneath his face. At the slight rise and fall of his back that meant he was still breathing.
Still alive.
Still defeated.
"The briefcase," Gun said.
Patient. Gentle. Like he was asking for directions.
"I won't ask again."
[DECISION POINT REACHED]
[OPTION A: RESIST - ESTIMATED SURVIVAL CHANCE: 0%]
[OPTION B: COMPLY - ESTIMATED SURVIVAL CHANCE: 15%]
[RECOMMENDED ACTION: COMPLY]
Kangmi's hand moved to the door lock.
Her fingers trembled.
She thought about the Red Paper. About duty. About doing the right thing.
But with no choice left...
Her thumb pressed the unlock button.
Click.
The sound echoed through the car's interior. Loud. Mechanical. Final.
Like a coffin closing.
Gun opened the door.
---
BACK TO ME!!!
We burst out of the parking garage like our asses were on fire.
Which, metaphorically, they were.
"Split up!" I yelled. "Cover more ground!"
Classic protagonist strategy: divide your party before the boss fight. What could go wrong?
Everything. Everything could go wrong.
But we didn't have time for better plans.
We didn't have time for anything.
Please let us be in time.
Please.