[Author's Note]
"Hey everyone, I'm back! First of all, I want to sincerely apologize for being away for a while. I had to deal with some personal matters and health issues, but I am now officially totally locked in.
A huge shout-out to everyone who waited for me—your patience and loyalty mean everything. I need your support now more than ever because today marks a massive milestone...
Welcome to the official start of Volume 2!
The stakes are higher, the secrets are darker, and the world is getting much bigger. From this point on, get ready for daily chapter updates! This chapter is packed with high-octane action, deep suspense, and that classic comedy you all love.
Thank you for sticking by me. Let's make Volume 2 legendary. Enjoy the ride!"
The neon lights of Shibuya were blinding, a stark contrast to the dark secrets lurking in its alleys. But for the "Chaos Squad," it was supposed to be a vacation of a lifetime.
"Minho! Look at these towels! I think they were woven from the clouds of heaven!" Satoshi cried out, stuffing a third hotel bathrobe into his suitcase.
Minho facepalmed, dragging Satoshi away from his luggage. "You idiot! Those aren't 'souvenirs,' they're hotel property! We are in a five-star hotel, not a roadside motel!"
"But look at this toilet paper!" Satoshi held a roll as if it were a sacred relic. "It's quilted, Minho! Quilted!"
Hyunwoo sighed, watching the circus unfold. Meanwhile, on the other side of the suite, Zoe and Rika were engaged in their own civil war.
"Rika, if your hairdryer crosses the 'invisible border' of my vanity one more time, I'm throwing it out the window," Zoe warned, her eyes narrowing.
"Oh, please," Rika rolled her eyes, "I'm sharing the room, not my patience. Deal with it."
Seongjii stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at the Shibuya Crossing. He let out a long, weary sigh. "I'm supposed to survive a world tour with these idiots? Heavens, give me strength."
Miles away from the luxury of the hotel, a sleek black sedan pulled up in front of an underground casino. A man stepped out, his face completely obscured by a dark hood—Alastor. His presence was so cold that the bustling crowd instinctively parted for him.
Inside the smoke-filled VIP lounge, a man with a scarred face waited. Kazuo Taoka, a high-ranking Yakuza boss.
"It's been a long time," Alastor's voice was flat and chilling.
Kazuo smirked, lighting a cigar. "You've changed... if that's even you under there. What brings a ghost like you to my doorstep?"
"I have a job. High pay, low profile," Alastor placed a briefcase on the table. "I need specific documents retrieved. No witnesses. No blood on the streets. Just get the papers to me."
"Working in the shadows costs extra," Kazuo chuckled.
"You'll get your price. But listen closely," Alastor's tone turned lethal. "Do not open those files. If you look at even a single word... consider it your last day on this earth. That's not a threat. It's a courtesy."
"Mortal! Look! They put gold leaf on the cheesecake!" Araya's eyes sparkled with a hunger that was almost primal.
Seongjii watched her, a small smirk playing on his lips. "You came down early just for this? Control yourself, Araya, or you're going to get fat one day."
"Hahaha, very funny," Araya replied with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Say that again and I'll test if your skull is harder than this ceramic plate."
The group moved through the buzzing streets of Shibuya, enjoying the atmosphere until Satoshi, distracted by a giant 3D billboard, collided head-on with a tall man in a sharp suit.
Splat.
Satoshi's ice cream landed perfectly on the man's expensive blazer. The man was one of Kazuo's Executives. In the collision, a leather folder hit the ground, spilling its contents.
Seongjii instinctively knelt to help. As he reached for a document, his eyes scanned the bold headings and complex charts at the top.
Suddenly, Seongjii froze. His breath hitched, and his hands began to tremble. He had glimpsed a reality so dark it felt like a death sentence.
"Back off, brat!" The Executive roared, snatching the paper away. But Seongjii didn't move. He remained frozen on the ground, his mind spinning in a deafening silence.
The Executive, furious, shoved Satoshi back and raised his fist. "You blind idiot! Do you have any idea what you just ruined?"
Thud.
Seongjii's hand shot out, catching the Executive's wrist mid-air. "It was an accident," Seongjii said, his voice dangerously low. "That doesn't give you the right to lay a hand on him."
The Executive tried to pull back, but he couldn't budge. Seeing their leader struggle, the other two Yakuza members moved. One lunged toward Rika, Araya, and Zoe to snatch the documents. Seongjii tried to intercept, but the first Executive and a third man blocked him, throwing synchronized punches. Seongjii crossed his arms, blocking them both.
The second man was inches away from the girls, a predatory sneer on his face—
WHOOSH!
Out of nowhere, a shadow blurred across the neon lights. A deafening thwack echoed as a Flying Side Kick slammed into the man's ribs. He was launched sideways, skidding across the pavement before collapsing, out cold.
Hyunwoo stood there, eyes burning. "Don't you dare lay a hand on them," he growled.
"Damn, Hyunwoo! That was crazy!" Araya cheered.
"Seems like someone is flexing," Rika teased.
Seongjii glanced back, "Good work, Hyunwoo."
But the distraction cost him. The first Executive landed a monstrous haymaker squarely on Seongjii's jaw. Crack.
Seongjii's head snapped back, but his feet didn't move an inch. He took the hit—he tanked it. He slowly turned his head back, spitting a drop of blood. His eyes were now cold, bottomless pits of rage.
"You had your fun," Seongjii whispered. "Now, I'm done playing. I'll show you what happens when you cross the wrong person."
In a blink, Seongjii vanished—it looked like he had teleported. He appeared in front of the third man. Jab! Cross! Hook! Uppercut! The combo was a blur. The man crumpled instantly.
The Executive roared, swinging a powerful punch. Seongjii dipped under it, took a decisive step forward, and exploded into the air. He rotated his body with surgical precision—a perfect 540-degree Lead-Leg Kick.
The heel of his shoe connected with the Executive's temple like a sledgehammer. The man was slammed into the cracked pavement.
"Strength isn't meant to oppress the weak," Seongjii stood over him. "It's meant to protect them."
Satoshi suddenly whacked Seongjii's head. "Hey! Who are you calling weak, you arrogant jerk?"
Before they could react, the Yakuza threw a blinding dust screen. "You'll regret this!" they hissed, snatching the remaining files and vanishing.
Peeeeeee! Shibuya Police swarmed the area. Satoshi groaned, "Seriously? Why do the cops always show up after the fireworks?"
As they were led away for questioning, Seongjii remained silent, his mind haunted by the bold lines he had read.
Everything was about to change.
To be continued.....