"It's over..."
Watching the swarming mobsters, the silver-haired boy swallowed hard, feeling his limbs go stiff, his entire body softened, and even lost the instinct to flee.
He knew too well the methods of these people; if truly captured alive, what awaited him would be an unmitigated journey through hell, a complete destruction from spirit to body.
"Master Mumu, please forgive me..."
He murmured to himself, then closed his eyes, raising his gun but aiming it at his own chin, ready to end his life.
But such a burden was too heavy for a teenager, so in the end, he hesitated for a second or two.
And it was precisely this second or two that made him lose even the ability to end his life.
Nite, the boss, casually whipped, and in the boy's dazed and desperate eyes, knocked his gun away.
Immediately afterward, a bulky, mountain-like mobster licked his lips, slapping his hand toward the boy's shoulder.
