Gun saw someone in the driver's seat.
The driver lay half-conscious, slumped against the seatbelt.
Blood poured from his arms, legs, and face.
His neck was tightly entangled in the belt, choking him. He couldn't breathe.
With one hand, he struggled to pull the belt away from his throat. With the other, he slammed it repeatedly against the truck door, trying desperately to get out.
[A Few Moments Earlier]
Just as the shadowy, smoky presence inside Mihon prepared to run Gun down with the truck, something strange happened.
Suddenly, the rear of the truck exploded.
BOOM.
The blast hurled the vehicle across the road. Mihon's body slammed upward, crashing into the ceiling of the cab. His head struck hard, splitting open — blood gushed instantly from the wound.
Inside him, the mysterious shadow let out a pained shriek.
"Ahhhh — it hurts!"
But the truck wasn't finished yet. It bounced once, twice, then three more times. Each brutal jolt slammed Mihon's body against the cab's interior, bones cracking, limbs twisting at unnatural angles. His hand broke. His ribs snapped. Shards of glass carved deep into his flesh.
The shadow inside him writhed in agony, unable to move.
It could only scream. But the seatbelt had wound tightly around Mihon's throat, and the scream emerged as a faint, choking whisper, lost in the chaos.
Desperately, it flailed Mihon's limbs, kicking weakly at the truck door.
Thhhenk.
No use.
In the haze of pain, a voice echoed inside the shadow's mind — calm and steady.
"What's going on? Why are you screaming like that?"
It was their leader's voice.
In a weak, trembling tone, the shadow answered:
"Ah… Leader… our mission failed…"
A second voice — cool and annoyed — cut in:
"Failed? How? Everything was going perfectly. What happened?"
The shadow gasped, frustration flooding through it.
"I don't know… I got close to the boy, and then — the truck just… exploded. Out of nowhere."
Hearing those words, the leader fell silent, momentarily stunned, as if he had glimpsed a different future that was never meant to change. His voice came out in total disbelief:
"That… that shouldn't have been possible. Impossible."
The shadow growled in frustration.
"What's impossible?"
Snapped out of his thoughts, the leader quickly tried to steady himself:
"No, no — forget it. Leave there right now. You no longer have to kill that boy."
The shadow protested:
"That's exactly what I'm trying to do, but this body is stuck inside the truck. I can't get out!"
The leader's voice cracked with anger:
"You idiot! Just abandon the body and escape!"
The shadow hesitated, then muttered:
"Ah… that hadn't occurred to me. But, Leader — what about our plan?"
The leader replied coolly, decisively:
"Don't worry about that. I've already set up a Plan B. Just get out of there."
The shadow inside Mihon's body gave a strange, unsettling smile.
"Fine. I'm leaving now."
Suddenly, Mihon's body convulsed violently. His chest arched upward as that eerie black shadow began to force its way out. While the shadow still clung inside him, Mihon's eyes burned bright red, the veins in them standing out grotesquely.
As soon as the shadow completely left, Mihon's body went still. His chest fell back down, and his eyes gently closed.
A moment later, they reopened — and it was clearly Mihon again, with no trace of the invader left. His eyes returned to normal.
Pain crashed through him all at once. His head spun, a splitting ache pounding in his skull.
"Ahhh!"
He cried out, wanting to clutch his head, but realized he couldn't move his arm.
What… what happened to me again?
He forced his eyes fully open, trying to take in his surroundings.
The overturned truck loomed around him. His arms and legs were slashed and bleeding. The seatbelt was wound tight around his neck, strangling him.
Panic shot through him as he tried to breathe — only to find no air coming. One of his hands weakly fought to pry the belt from his throat, while the other arm was so badly injured it barely moved at all.
He couldn't quite make sense of what was happening.
How did my body end up like this?
Fragments of memory flooded back. Just a short while ago, he'd finished a delivery and was heading home, when suddenly a dark shape — a shadow — appeared in front of his truck.
After that, nothing.
Now he was here, mangled and bloodied, the truck reduced to a twisted wreck.
A sudden heat at his back startled him.
Confusion surged through his mind.
How can it feel hot on a night like this, with rain pouring down?
He managed to turn his neck and saw flames burning at the rear of the truck. The fire was spreading fast.
Within moments, it would consume everything.
His thoughts spun wildly, still refusing to make sense of it all.
How did it come to this?
But there was no time left to think. He had to get out.
Fighting through the agony that burned along his arm, he slammed his battered fist against the door, again and again, trying to force it open and crawl free.
Back to the present —
Gun saw someone still trapped in the driver's seat of the overturned truck. The man was struggling, fighting to break free of the wreck.
Gun froze, eyes wide in shock.
How is that man here?
A chill sliced through him, heart pounding. Sweat ran cold down his face, mingling with the endless rain.
Then a thought clicked into place:
A truck can't drive on its own. There must have been a driver.
Maybe this was him — the driver.
Gun watched as the man writhed against the seatbelt, desperate to escape.
Gun's first instinct was to rush forward and help.
But halfway there, he stopped in his tracks.
His mind screamed at him —
Wasn't this the driver who just tried to kill me?
A dark suspicion crawled over him.
He could be one of them. His enemies.
That thought twisted in his gut, weighing on him.
Memories of what those people had done to his best friend came flooding back.
Fury ignited, boiling in his chest like a volcano about to erupt.
No.
He clenched his fists, his expression hardening.
He turned away, refusing to help, and began walking off in the opposite direction, leaving the driver behind.
Inside the driver's seat
Mihon was doing everything he could to break open the truck door. But the door had been crushed in the wreck — twisted and jammed so badly that no amount of pounding seemed to help.
His arms ached terribly.
When he slammed his hand against the door one last time, a sickening sound cracked through his bones —
dhose.
He screamed in agony.
"Ahhhh!"
His hand was broken. The pain was blinding. He squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to steady his ragged, shallow breathing.
Khaah… khaah…
But even as he drew breath, a harsh, burning smell reached him.
He turned — and his eyes widened.
The fire at the back of the truck had grown even larger, eating its way forward with every passing second. If he didn't get out now, the flames would devour him alive.
Terror surged through his chest — mingled with a wave of regret so sharp it nearly crushed him.
He thought of his younger siblings — the only family he had left. Their parents were gone. It was just him, his little brother, and his little sister. They weren't his blood siblings, but he loved them like they were his own.
And then, a memory came flooding back…
[Flashback — Years Ago]
His brother had been eight. His sister, six.
They were standing on the roadside — filthy and ragged, clothes torn, faces smeared with grime. The little girl clutched her empty stomach, her face pale from hunger.
"Brother," she'd asked, voice barely a whisper, "when will big brother come back? I'm so hungry…"
The boy had tried to smile at her.
"Don't worry. He'll come soon."
And then they saw Mihon approaching, limping toward them. His leg was injured. His body bruised and cut. He forced himself to walk straight, hiding his pain beneath torn scraps of cloth.
When he finally reached them, the girl ran to him and hugged him tightly.
"Brother, you're back! I was so hungry…"
Her hug made his wounds scream with pain, but in that moment — her tiny arms wrapped around him — it was like her warmth cooled the fire in his heart.
Their brother had stood quietly nearby, staring at Mihon's battered body. He understood everything without needing a single word — but he said nothing, for their sister's sake.
Then she asked,
"Brother, did you bring anything to eat?"
Mihon pulled two pieces of bread from his pocket and handed them over.
"Sorry," he said, "there's nothing else today. Just this."
The girl smiled and accepted the bread. She gently broke one piece in half, keeping one portion for herself and giving the other to her middle brother — then she held out the second bread to Mihon.
Seeing that, Mihon laughed softly and patted her head.
"There's no need. You two eat. I already ate."
But the girl didn't believe him.
"You have to eat too, brother. We aren't that hungry — we can't finish it all by ourselves."
Right then, her stomach growled loudly —
hungggggg.
Mihon chuckled gently.
"I told you, I'm fine. You two eat."
But then their brother spoke up, voice firm.
"If you don't eat, then I won't eat either."
He refused to even touch the bread.
Mihon sighed in defeat, warmth rising in his chest despite the pain.
"Alright, alright. You two always win. What do you want me to do, huh?"
They laughed together.
And piece by piece, they ended up sharing the bread with Mihon after all.
Back to the present —
Those memories tore through his mind — raw and painful.
No. I can't die here. I can't.
If something happens to me…
What will happen to my brother and sister?
They're probably waiting for me to come home…
But there was nothing more he could do.
The fire was growing, crackling closer, its heat wrapping around him like a noose.
Every breath came harder than the last.
His courage wavered, and his eyes began to shut.
Maybe… maybe this is it.
He was ready to give up when, through the haze, his gaze locked onto someone.
A boy.
For a moment, hope sparked in Mihon's chest.
But that hope crumbled the next second —
The boy was walking away.
In the opposite direction.
Mihon froze.
Why?
Why would he turn away when he could help?
Can't he see me?
No — impossible.
From the way he looked over, it was clear.
He chose not to help.
Mihon's mind reeled.
Why? Why would he leave me here?
I never did anything to hurt anyone…
But there was no time to understand.
A final flicker of will sparked inside him.
He couldn't give up yet.
With a broken, shaking hand, he reached out, groping blindly for the emergency horn near the steering wheel.
He managed to slip his mangled fingers around it and, with all the strength left in him, pulled —
A loud, desperate shout tore from his lungs.
"Help!"
But the pounding rain drowned out Mihon's cry for help.
Back to Gun —
He still couldn't shake the thought:
That man must be one of my enemies.
Gun turned away, taking a few steps to leave him behind —
But then, something made him stop.
A strange feeling, like a whisper cutting through the storm.
Did someone… just call for help?
He spun around sharply.
The fire had grown — its glow cast flickering shadows across the wrecked truck.
And inside, he saw the man.
Trapped. Bleeding. Slumped in the driver's seat, barely conscious.
Gun's heart skipped a beat.
The driver…
The same one who had tried to kill him.
But now…
He didn't look dangerous at all.
Gun took a slow step forward — then stopped again.
His fists clenched. Doubt warred inside him like a storm.
What if it's a trick? What if he's faking it?
But then he saw it.
Tears.
Real ones, cutting down the man's bloodied face.
His hands trembled as he reached out — not in violence, but in desperation.
That's not the face of a killer.
Gun glanced down. No tattoos. No cult symbols. Just blood, fire, and a man begging to live.
Still, he stood frozen.
His breath came heavy.
What if I help him and regret it? What if I leave him and regret that even more?
Memories rushed back — all the pain, all the betrayal.
But also…
His mother's words.
"Even if the world wrongs you… don't let it change your heart."
A moment passed.
Then another.
Finally, Gun moved.
Slow at first — then faster.
He broke into a sprint, charging toward the flames.
Whatever the truth was — he couldn't watch someone die and walk away.
He reached the wreck and stopped right in front of Mihon.
Rain soaking his face. Breath heavy. Eyes determined.
"I've got you," he said under his breath.
Seeing him, Mihon felt a surge of relief.
Maybe… maybe I'll survive after all.
Gun planted his foot firmly in the mud and shoved half his body through the truck's shattered front.
He reached for the seatbelt wrapped tightly around Mihon's neck, fingers scrambling for the latch.
It wouldn't budge.
Jam-locked from the crash.
No matter how hard he pulled, it refused to move.
Panic clawed at his chest.
What now?
The flames were spreading fast — curling toward them like hungry snakes.
Mihon was fading, his body limp under the heat and smoke.
Gun's thoughts raced.
Think, Gun, think — what can I do?
Then, it hit him.
He twisted around, grabbed a jagged shard of broken glass from the wreckage, and turned back without hesitation.
He began sawing at the thick strap.
The belt was strong. Tougher than it looked.
The shard bit in slowly. Too slowly.
His grip slipped with every stroke. The blade sliced into his fingers, blood mixing with the rain and running down his wrist.
Still, he kept cutting.
Ignoring the sting. Ignoring everything.
Finally — the last fibers snapped.
The seatbelt came loose.
The shard fell from Gun's shaking hand — landing squarely in Mihon's palm by accident.
Mihon fumbled weakly with the strap, freeing himself at last.
Gun seized him without a word and pulled him out of the cab.
They stumbled away together, just as fire exploded through the front of the truck — the entire cabin swallowed in a wave of flame.
Gun collapsed to his knees, clutching his chest.
Breath ragged. Hands bloody. Rain soaking his face.
"Huff… we made it," he gasped.
"Both of us."
By the way…
Gun tried to glance over his shoulder to check on Mihon.
But then —
Clitch.
His eyes widened in horror.
Mihon had plunged the same shard of glass straight into Gun's stomach.