So it was like this: through H, I got into the company. H acted like a talent scout there, working on the fringes and interacting with a lot of different people. Because of that, his job was often unstable and had a high chance of getting into trouble.

He didn’t lie to me about the company; everything he told me about its nature and background was true.

After I joined, I noticed that everything outside was actually calm, and I felt safe.

Many of my friends guessed right; that Korean guy wasn’t really dead because of me. I only found out about H’s manipulations after L’s incident.

Maybe I just saw H as a target for my anger. Without him, I wouldn’t have joined the company, and without that, I wouldn’t have met L. If I hadn’t met L, she wouldn’t have died.

So in a way, I thought it all led back to H. But more importantly, regarding my relationship with L, H didn’t play a good role, or rather, L’s death was directly related to him.

There are always a few troublemakers around any leader, people who thrive on chaos, making things worse without benefiting themselves.

H left the company because he made a fundamental mistake, taking money he shouldn’t have and got kicked out.

Some friends asked how the company kept its secrets from former employees.

It’s simple: if a company goes all out to eliminate departing employees, no one will want to join. Even if some do get tricked in, once they find out, they’ll revolt, and that would be the company’s biggest failure.

So, normally, when employees retire, it’s like in any regular company. Unless they commit a serious breach, the company won’t go after its own.

For instance, the day I lost my job—meaning I unilaterally resigned before my contract was up—that was unforgivable for the company. Every industry has its rules, and in this line of work, integrity still matters.

Usually, a company won’t take action against its employees on behalf of an employer; that goes against industry norms. But if someone is fired for personal reasons, then it’s a different story.

So I felt H got what he deserved, creating such a good opportunity for me.

The old man knew it was me from the start. From his perspective, he shouldn’t have agreed to this job. Even though H wasn’t with the company anymore, he still had employers seeking him out. But he knew it was me; when a child cries, you have to give them something to soothe them.

Some people asked why, if I knew L’s death was due to the company, I didn’t just go after the boss.

I’ve said before that I didn’t have any evidence that the driver was hired by the company or that L was ordered to be eliminated by the boss. In that situation, going after the boss would be a betrayal, a major offense in any industry. It’s not like this industry is without its rules; otherwise, the company could just stage a scene and shoot me outright, which would be much simpler.

Also, L wanted me to live well.

After L was gone, I moved to a new place with Tiger. My old apartment was filled with her presence and scent.

I packed away all of L’s things, locked them in a box, and hid it in what I thought was the hardest place to find. Yet every time I walked past, I’d turn to check that corner, that box I never used to notice. Maybe it was the most futile way to escape.

I started desperately taking on tasks. Even when the company didn’t assign any, I’d ask the new dispatchers for work. I didn’t want to be idle; that feeling was too painful. Only when I had tasks could I distract myself and not feel so miserable.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

During that time, I was probably the most dedicated I’d ever been in my entire career. I aimed to complete every task to the best of my ability, which was a kind of obsession, a terrifying obsession that makes me shudder to think about now.

The fourth task was one I picked from three options. How did I choose? Simple: I didn’t look at the price or the difficulty; I just looked at the photos and information. I’d pick the one whose face I found the most annoying and whose actions were the most unforgivable. That’s how I decided.

I’ll refer to my fourth target as “Old Four.”

Old Four was a businessman; honestly, he was a bit foolish. One wrong step and he lost everything. He was in legitimate business and wasn’t selling something fake, but he couldn’t control himself and ended up sleeping with the wrong woman.

If it was a mutual agreement, that’s one thing, but he took advantage of her after slipping something into her drink.

Old Four was a bit wronged, but mostly because he crossed paths with me at that time, and his face was just the kind I couldn’t stand. Plus, the husband of the woman he slept with wasn’t some push-over and didn’t want to deal with this through legal means.

Honestly, Old Four wasn’t worth the money, but any man whose wife has been cheated on might think about killing someone. After all, it’s something a man can’t forgive. If he’s wealthy and has connections, spending a few bucks to vent his anger isn’t hard to understand.

These were all just afterthoughts; at the time, I didn’t think he was wronged. The employer had one requirement: Old Four couldn’t die too quickly. That was simple enough.

Looking back, the employer had some guts. Killing was his goal; I was just there to carry it out.

If A was a tough nut to crack, then Old Four wasn’t much of a challenge at all. His biggest pleasure was more about partying than picking up women. But I didn’t agree with his approach of forcing himself on women; he was the type of guy who thought with his lower half.

So to this day, I still don’t understand him. If you’re going to think with your lower half and can’t hold it in, just hire a prostitute. It’s not like he couldn’t afford it. Why go through all that trouble, risking everything in the end?

For Old Four, I spent an hour thinking about how to carry out the plan—not the steps or strategies, but how to make sure he didn’t die too quickly.

The employer wanted to act fast, probably out of anger, but also because he knew Old Four’s actions were hard to talk about. As an adult with a family and a name, he had to think about the consequences of his actions.

But anyone with any sense wouldn’t boast about doing something like that, so why Old Four would die is something only he knows.

That night when I went to find Old Four, I was feeling a bit down. I’d been at rock bottom for a while, and that night felt even heavier.

Old Four was at his usual spot, a bar and nightclub he frequented almost every day.

He was sitting on the right side of the dance floor, and I took a seat diagonally behind him. His eyes were constantly scanning the room for his prey.

I wondered if this guy would end up becoming a perverted creep. The more I thought about it, the more I felt I made the right choice in picking him.

In the bar, I didn’t keep my eyes glued to Old Four. He wasn’t going anywhere; even if I let him go, he wouldn’t leave.

Looking at the people in the bar, none of them seemed like they were here to unwind from work stress. The phrase “bright lights and drunken nights” fit perfectly in this tacky place.

Old Four flirted with a few women but returned empty-handed. Normal; his looks weren’t exactly appealing.

People can’t escape judging by appearances; saying otherwise is nonsense. Our eyes are always our first sense. When you can’t stand looking at someone, it’s tough to communicate with them normally.

Around 2 AM, Old Four left the bar, and I followed him from about ten meters back. When he opened the car door, I slid into the passenger seat.

He was the first target to see what I looked like, but I didn’t mind since he wouldn’t have a chance to describe me to anyone.

Old Four had drunk quite a bit, and when he saw me, he jumped, asking, “Who the hell are you? You’re in the wrong car!”

I motioned for him to look down, and he saw the silenced gun pointed at his stomach.

Old Four tried to be funny, touching the gun and saying, “Are you crazy? You think you can rob me with a toy? I don’t have any money!”

I didn’t know if it was the alcohol talking, but it certainly gave him some courage. With someone like him, he wouldn’t say something like that if he were sober.

I cocked the gun, and he heard a small click. I had been feeling worn out for a while, so I spoke quietly.

I asked, “Want to test if it’s real?”

Then I shot him in the thigh. “Thud.” His leg twitched, and he started screaming, “Oh God! What the hell!” He pressed his hand against the wound, but blood still oozed out.

I said, “Shh, drive.”

Old Four finally came to his senses, trembling as he started the car, asking where we were going.

I told him we were going for a drive, to the riverbank of B River. It was on the outskirts of the city, and that place was known as the execution ground—a deserted spot where no one would hear us.