Kira led the way into a starkly illuminated chamber, I trailed after her, Yeonju at my flank. Walls cloaked in obsidian absorbed the sole light source overhead: a cluster of tubes, encapsulated in rigid plastic. This dark setting was good for a space dedicated for discreet communication.

Assuming her familiar position behind the desk, Kira settled in. No drawers or cabinets adorned the table. It lacked even basic stationery. At its center, a monitor, equipped with a custom webcam concealed our identities, distorting both our faces and voices. In our line of work, the anonymity of ourselves and our clients is important.

And it’s precisely within the raw truth of our existence - the nature of our work. It bleeds into the dark facets of society, assassination, espionage, occasionally, extortion. We, the Gaijin Defence Group, delve into each mire of the underworld, except for human trafficking, child pornography, and drugs.

Maybe we are bad people, but even bad people have some semblance of morality to abide by. However, it's not these unorthodox morals that fill our pockets, it's our professionalism that delivers results and reaps us our rewards.

It is also imperative for us to operate under the cover of ignorance regarding our clients. We can’t afford to thrust our group into the spotlight. Knowledge, after all, is a formidable weapon, and we refuse to arm anyone with it to be wielded against us.

Like clockwork, as the screen sparked to life, the lights retreated, shrouding the room in an abyss of darkness, with only the monitor offering any semblance of light. The display showed a man's silhouette, his dreadlocks barely visible. His voice, veiled behind the anonymity technology, resonated deeply, buzzing akin to a bee.

"I received your message. Is this something to be concerned about?" His tone, monotonous, carried his question.

"The package is concealed within a child. The next step, its extraction, is unclear." I paused. My eyes met Kira's; she returned the gaze. Our futures hinged on the unfolding situation, the defining moment that would signify the success or failure of our mission. The silence was broken by his voice.

"Has Artherius been eliminated?"

A flash of fury sparked within Kira's narrowed eyes. "The truth about the package's holder wasn't shared."

"Would it have made a difference?" His tone was dispassionate, impassive.

"Certainly. This predicament we find ourselves in could have been avoided--"

"Wrong," he interrupted, "Your current turmoil is a direct result of your inability to perform your duties with the requisite professionalism."

Kira's fist pounded on the table. "His identity, a piece of crucial information for our mission, was withheld from us. We wouldn't be in this mess if we had known who he was."

The volume of his voice raised a notch, but he remained expressionless. "Would knowing have lessened your thirst for revenge? To my understanding, his remains are yet to be found in the ashes of the mansion you set ablaze, Kira."

The widening of her eyes was a reflection mirrored in both my own and Yeonju’s. An unspoken truth dawned upon us — they knew. Blayk, they were aware of our identities. This mission isn’t safe anymore.

“You know who we are,” she murmured in disbelief.

“Yes, and I'm well aware of your current location, off the coast of Korea, on the Dancing Mistress. I even possess your exact coordinates,” came the chilling reply.

Ready to disconnect the call, my hand was stayed by Kira. With a soft, yet firm grip, she restrained me. Her action puzzled me, a move in my opinion she shouldn't have played. Our identities are exposed. Just the mere act of prolonging the call was inviting more risk, than we are already in.

“Identify yourself,” she demanded.

“Really, Kira, why would I voluntarily unmask myself? You of all people should understand that. Perhaps it's also worth noting that I'm privy to more than just your name. Should I address you as Kira, or is 'Concubine of the Supreme' more fitting?”

A strange shift permeated the room, the walls buckling under the oppressive force of Kira's ki. As the environment twisted under her fury, both Yeonju and I found ourselves retreating from the volatile epicenter. The space around her distorting itself. She’s exerting a powerful amount of ki. This isn’t the petulant vexation she'd shown towards Artherius. It was raw, unabated bloodlust, thick enough to choke the air in the room.

I signalled Yeonju to make his exit, which he understood. It was best to shield him from what might follow — he had already learned too much about Kira.

Despite my efforts to engage her, Kira remained lost in a trance, she was too caught up by his taunts. Dammit! Her control was always on the verge of shattering. There was no time to get soft. The ship was in jeopardy, and I needed to break through to her.

“Kira!” I called out, straining my voice, “Your anger is warping the very ship. You need to calm down. You’re going to take the ship down.”

My plea dissolved into the mounting cacophony as the groaning escalated, till the cracks in the walls started to show. Exposed, the metal beams gradually distorted under the pull of space warping around them. I stretched out to Kira, but the distortions around her twisted my hand, causing immense pain. Each finger seemed to splinter and snap as I pressed forward. Channeling my ki into my palm, I fashioned a barrier to dull the pain, just enough for me to push through.

Finally, I gripped her shoulders and yelled, "Kira!"

The groaning halted. The twisted metal froze, the cracks ceased to spread. She had stopped, at least for now, yet the fury within her continued to simmer. It didn't appear to be subsiding anytime soon. I sighed; we were losing our grounding, letting our emotions override our logic. After this, Kira and I needed a serious talk about the events of the past days. But for now, she had to leave.

"You need to leave, Kira," I urged, "You have to go now."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Silent, she rose and exited the room. I took her seat, now facing the client.

"Viktor, is it?" He inquired.

My identity was no longer a secret to him; he knew us all. We had been outplayed. But who had spilled our secrets? That was the million-dollar question.

"I suppose there's no point in playing coy any longer," I admitted, my tone heavy, "Yes, it's me, Viktor."

"You seem like a level-headed man, Viktor. Will you continue this discussion on behalf of your boss so we can finally reach a resolution for our problems?"

"I could do that, or I could end this call and be on my way."

"I wouldn't recommend that, Viktor. After all, I'm still a client who hasn't received their package and holds quite a bit of valuable information about you all. You could end this call and I might share that information with some very interested parties, or you can complete my job and your identities will remain secure with me."

"How can we trust you?" I demanded.

"You don't," he countered, "you will have to take a leap of faith. A concept I'm sure you're familiar with as a Christian."

I grunted. He held too much knowledge, too many cards.

"And what is it you propose we do?" I asked.

His lips curled into a satisfied smirk. "Finally, progress." He paused for effect. "I have a contact, a certain doctor well-versed in the contents of the syringe. He can extract the package from the boy's bloodstream before complete infusion. They call him the Heavenly Doctor. Ring a bell?"

Of course, it did. A legend in Murim, resurrecting the dead. Rumors whispered he was a necromancer, as those he 'revived' never died again. Such a master was hard to ignore.

I rolled my eyes, "Yes, I'm familiar."

His smile widened, I couldn’t see behind the blackened silhouette, but I felt it. "Great. Bring the boy to him. He'll handle the rest."

I scowled, struggling to keep up. "Wait, hold on. You've left out too much. Where is this man? Unlike Artherius, he's not advertising his location. Then there's the matter of payment."

His services demand a fortune - at least $100 million.

"He's in Seoul. I'll provide the specifics. Apparently, he operates from an obscure, run-down clinic. And don't fret over payment. He's an old friend. I'll send something along to ensure he recognizes you."

I acknowledged with a nod. This was the most I could extract from him. As our interaction progressed, it became clear he was a man of few words, sharing only what was required, nothing more. His fondness for mind games was evident, poking and prodding just to observe reactions. Cunning, very cunning. It's a good thing we weren't adversaries, at least not yet.

"Oh, and there's one more thing," he said, as if he had almost forgotten. "Rumors circulate in Murim that the hit on the Artherius clan was personal by nature. The blame is directed towards the Gaijin Defence Group, suggesting they bear a grudge against the Supreme. Naturally, there are skeptics who laugh off the idea, questioning why a terrorist group would have a bone to pick with the Supreme."

I gave a gruff grunt, Kira.

“All I’m suggesting and let’s consider this as a form of Kindness. Is to stay under the radar. I can't figure out how they found out it was you, but they did, and now it's best to do this quietly”.

I Fully agreed on this one. What started as a mere retrieval job morphed into more than we signed up for, and we're already seeing the aftermath. The quicker we part ways with this client, the better.

“Watch your back,” he instructed, his image fading from the screen as the lights warmed back to life.

There was a heap to sort through, but priorities first. Kira and I needed to talk.

----------------------------------------

I found Kira in her quarters. They were lavish, that much was certain. Buttoned ovulated red velvet draped the walls. Victorian lamps, a pair on each wall, glowed bright. A fluorescent tube light, more functional than decorative, hung from the ceiling.

She perched on her bed, silky sheets mingling with plush velvet cushions. A curtain encased her bed, snug in a corner of the room.

I slid one of the chairs out from under the oak desk beside the bed and took a seat, my gaze boring into her. We had to unravel this mess.

“What was that stunt in the conference room?”

She sighed, starting, “It was noth-”

“Don’t feed me that it was nothing,” I cut her off, my voice rising. “You lost your cool. Your cool, Kira! Since when does that happen?”

She shot me a glare. “Everyone loses their cool.”

“But not you, Kira. You can't afford to. If you do, we're done for. It’s game over.”

She lashed out, “Quit being so theatrical, everyone slips up and we move on.”

I couldn’t stomach it anymore, her ignorance of the gravity of our situation. My hand hit the table hard and it shattered into fragments, drawing her attention back to me.

“It wasn’t just a slip-up. It was a liability. Losing your emotional grip in this line of work can get you killed. Neither I, nor Yeonju, Ashley, or Hector want that. Whatever your personal problems, they stay out of the mission. The mission always comes first.”

She jerked her head back and eyed me, "This isn't about the conference room, is it? It's about what happened at the mansion." I remained silent, letting her suspicions firm up. Then, she erupted.

"If you were so concerned about the mission, why did you allow me to sink a blade into Artherius? Why did you permit me to dress him up like a turkey ready for the kill? You had the power to halt everything. You were present, weren't you? So, why?"

"Do you honestly believe such actions during a mission are acceptable? That's even more alarming. Disputes within the team lay us bare to our marks and enemies. Do you truly think I would put myself or anyone else on the team in such jeopardy?"

"Oh, Viktor, the ever so cautious one, the detail-oriented, Mika's golden boy. You're the perfect soldier of Gaijin Defence ever created. You're literally Mika's dream brought to life."

She was taunting, provoking me to say something harsh in return. This would only fuel her more. With Kira, there isn’t winning an argument.

"I didn't volunteer for this, you chose me. Remember that it was your call," I snapped back, having had enough of her nonsense.

"Yes, I recall how I picked each one of you up. You were insignificant, utterly insignificant. You were labelled as vermin by those cultivators when they murdered your father and abducted your mother."

I clenched my fists, her words were going beyond the pale. But I remained silent. If she couldn't show restraint, then I had to lead by example. Thus, I listened to her tirade.

"Did you forget how they tore your mother's clothes off as if she was their plaything? How I stepped in, halted their monstrous deeds and delivered justice for your family? You saw me give them their due. I allowed you to savor the feeling of revenge, the ecstasy of watching your family's killers meet their end. So, why am I being denied the same satisfaction? The satisfaction of revenge, when it's within my grasp."

I clenched my fists even harder. She wasn't mistaken, but this was the worst moment to stir up old wounds. Memories of that day when my family was mercilessly slaughtered and disgraced flooded back to me. It was a rainy day, much like today, the clouds were heavy with sorrow, as if weeping on my behalf.

The heavens thundered as if raging at my loss. But now was not the time to brood over past scars. Now was the time to prevent new ones. That's precisely why I softened my posture, tone, and demeanor. If I continued to shout at her, this confrontation would extend so far into the future, our grandchildren would have to resolve it.

"You are our team leader, not me," I started, "This wasn't my call, it was Mika's. It always has been. Even if you dub me the golden child, he chose you over me to lead this team. Frankly, I don't know why he did what he did. But the decision's been made. Now you have a responsibility, as a team leader and someone entrusted with Mika's expectations. You can't let your emotions cloud your judgement, or let those judgements affect the team and do as you please."

I paused for a moment, allowing her to digest my words. Some thoughts I hoped she would accept, others I hoped would provide her with food for thought. Yet, I emphasized one notion I wanted her to embrace fully.

”Don't let your past cripple your future. That's all I'm saying."

Revenge is an empty triumph. I was fortunate to realize this early on. Yes, the murderers were dead, yes I enjoyed tearing apart their bodies as they screamed and begged for me to stop. But that didn’t erase the emptiness inside of me after it was all over. It didn't bring back my parents.

As I got up and left the room, a 'dammit' echoed in my ears. It hinted that my message had been partially received and acknowledged by her. That was enough for now.