Phobos was still hanging in the middle of the room, stretched tight by chains. One of the prison workers stood nearby, sending electric shocks through his body while asking the same questions over and over again.

  The Warden kept his eyes fixed on Phobos, continuing the interrogation.

  Suddenly, a sharp beep echoed behind the door, and it slowly slid open. Namkhai appeared in the doorway, dragging the body of a guard behind him.

  “I hope this is the exit. I’m tired of dragging him around.”

  He stepped inside and froze.

  A sterile white room stretched out before him. In the center, helplessly suspended by chains, hung a man.

  “A torture room? So they kept him here too.”

  No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than a loud alarm blared behind him, and the heavy metal door slammed shut with a click.

  “Why is a prisoner walking freely through the prison?!” the Warden snarled.

  He snapped his gaze toward the subordinate standing near Phobos.

  “Kill him.”

  The guard didn’t hesitate. He instantly drew a pistol from behind his back and aimed at Namkhai.

  “This is so damn tiring.” flashed through Namkhai’s mind.

  The next moment, he lunged forward and hurled the guard’s body straight at the shooter. The man didn’t even have time to react the heavy weight slammed into his chest, knocking him off his feet.

  Both of them crashed into the wall with a loud bang.

  The Warden flinched and stepped back in fear.

  “Who the hell are you?!”

  Namkhai didn’t care. He walked up to the door and yanked the handle, trying to open it without success.

  “Damn it, locked, of course,” he thought. “I don’t want to break it again. I barely have any strength left.”

  Frowning, he quickly scanned the room for anything that might help and spotted the Warden aiming a weapon at him.

  “That’s enough. Let me out, and I won’t hurt you.”

  The Warden didn’t reply. He fired.

  Namkhai ducked and rushed forward, slamming into him. The blow landed straight in the ribs the Warden instantly lost consciousness and was sent flying into a large window nearby. The glass shattered, scattering everywhere.

  Namkhai straightened up.

  “Huh, there was a window here all this time? Maybe there’s a way out.”

  Then his gaze caught on the figure hanging in the center of the room.

  “Right, that poor bastard, If they treated him the same way as the others, I should help. Before it’s too late.”

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  He moved closer.

  “Hey, brother-”

  But as he approached and saw the man’s face, he froze.

  His eyes widened.

  “It’s you! You bastard. Because of you, I ended up here in the first place!”

  Phobos slowly turned his head toward him.

  “I could say the same about you,” he replied coldly. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be hanging here. You caused me unnecessary problems for no reason.”

  “Don’t play the victim,” Namkhai snapped. “You’re responsible for everything happening to you right now. Sorry, but you chose a profession you couldn’t handle. Phobos, right?”

  “…”

  “Either way, I don’t have time to argue with you. I’ve already lost too much.”

  Namkhai climbed through the shattered window. Looking around, he noticed a door.

  “Finally. I hope this one’s open.”

  He pulled the handle—the door gave way.

  But just as he took a step forward, a weak voice came from behind him. Phobos, still hanging from the chains.

  “Hey”

  Namkhai turned back, walked to the opening, and looked inside.

  “What do you want? Want me to help you?”

  “That would be kind of you,” Phobos answered dryly.

  “Yeah, it would. But I won’t. You’re a killer, and you’ll probably try to kill that girl again. And she still owes me money so get out on your own.”

  With that, he turned and headed for the exit. At the threshold, he stopped, glanced back through the opening, and tossed over his shoulder:

  “Not going to beg? Try to persuade me?”

  “Not my habit,” Phobos rasped.

  “Good. I wouldn’t have helped anyway.”

  With those words, he left.

  Phobos remained hanging alone.

  “Damn it… I have to come up with something. As long as I’m not standing on the ground and stuck in chains, I can’t use my power,” he thought irritably, tugging helplessly at the restraints. The chains held firm.

  Suddenly, a quiet, mocking chuckle echoed through the room.

  Phobos tensed. The sound came from above.

  He lifted his head just in time to see a slender figure in a black suit drop smoothly from the ceiling. A mask completely hid her face.

  “Oh. It’s you. Came for me?” he asked.

  “I was informed that you were captured,” she replied calmly.

  “So they sent you to rescue me?”

  “No. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

  “How sweet. So, have they already slapped sanctions on me?”

  “A fine, as usual,” she said shortly.

  “Wonderful. Bastards…”

  “How did you even manage to get caught?” she asked, casually slicing through the chains with her katana. The metal clattered to the floor, and Phobos landed heavily, rubbing his numb wrists.

  “The intel was trash,” he replied grimly. “Not a word about a two-meter brute who can break concrete with his bare hands.”

  “You mean the one you were talking to just now? Who was he?”

  “No idea. Probably a mercenary,” Phobos said, searching the guards’ bodies. He pulled out a pistol, checked the magazine, then grimaced and tossed an electric baton aside.

  “So we’re postponing the plan?” she asked, crouching beside him.

  “Why would we?”

  “Well, you were arrested.”

  “And? Just force majeure. I’ll finish the job, then we leave, just like we agreed.”

  “Alright.” she nodded, though doubt crept into her voice.

  Phobos glanced over the guards’ bodies and shook his head darkly.

  “Complete losers. They don’t even have a knife. Without something sharp, it’s just not the same.”

  “Then take mine,” she said, extending her katana toward him.

  “A katana?” He eyed the weapon skeptically. “I don’t like them. Too fragile.”

  “And where’s your sword?”

  “Broken,” Phobos replied flatly.

  “Well, you break them either way,” she shrugged. “Fragile or not doesn’t really matter.”

  Phobos took the katana and weighed it in his hands. It settled comfortably, as if it had been made for him.

  “Hm.... light,” he muttered, a quiet note of satisfaction in his voice.

  “Good,” she smiled, leaning closer. “Just don’t break this one too.”

  “Who do you take me for?” Phobos smirked.

  “Heh,” she stepped back, though she didn’t move far away. “Once you close the contract, I’ll be waiting—just like we agreed.” Her fingers pressed lightly against his chest.

  “Got it. Then that’s when we begin.”

  “There’s something I’ve wanted to ask you for a long time,” she admitted quietly.

  “About what?”

  “How are you?” Her voice grew more serious.

  “How am I?” he scoffed. “I’m fine. They roughed me up a bit, but overall, alive, intact, operational.”

  “I don’t mean your body. How are you inside?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’re about to kill the boss... Are you really ready, mentally, to take the life of your own father?”

  Phobos hesitated for a moment, then replied calmly:

  “Father? He’s the head of the clan. I’ve never considered him my real father.”

  She exhaled and nodded.

  “I see. I should go. If the clan finds out I was here, I’ll either get fined or they’ll start getting suspicious.”

  “Alright. Thank you,” Phobos said shortly.