The goshiwon walls felt thinner than paper. Each creak of footsteps outside made the dim little room vibrate with dread. Lin stood with his back to the lone window, shadows of neon spilling through the blinds across his face. The scout sat bound to a flimsy chair, head bowed but shoulders shaking with a quiet laugh that grated against the silence.

"They've already found you," the scout muttered in Korean, voice muffled by a split lip. He tilted his chin up, revealing that smirk again. "Jin's men are here. You think this room can keep you safe?"

Keller cursed under his breath, pacing like a caged wolf. His hand rested on the butt of his pistol, eyes flicking to the door every other second. "We don't have time for this, Lin. We either cut him loose or cut his throat. If they breach that door, we're dead meat."

Min-joon stood near the corner, arms wrapped tightly around himself, sweat glistening on his temple. He was barely holding it together. "We can't just—just kill him," he stammered. His gaze darted between Lin and the scout. "If we do that, it's no better than what they do."

The scout's smirk widened. "Your friend is right. Killing me won't change anything. But leaving me alive? That will doom you faster."

Lin's silence pressed against the walls as heavily as the sounds outside—the shuffle of boots, the muted crackle of radios, the distant wail of a police siren cut short. The net was closing. He could feel it, the way the city itself seemed to lean in, suffocating.

He finally spoke, low and precise. "We're moving. Now."

Keller blinked. "With him? Are you serious?"

Lin's eyes narrowed. "Dead weight draws attention. A body, more than a prisoner. We take him—he buys us time."

The scout chuckled. "I'll buy you nothing. But drag me along if you want to die slower."

Ignoring him, Lin grabbed the scout's collar and hauled him up. The man stumbled, chair scraping loudly before Keller snapped the rope from it with a swift knife cut. The sound seemed to echo through the cramped room, and almost immediately, there came a sharp bang at the front door.

Three shadows loomed through the frosted glass panel.

"They're here," Min-joon whispered, voice cracking.

"Back exit," Lin ordered. His tone left no room for hesitation.

They burst into the narrow corridor of the goshiwon, the scout half-dragged, half-shoved forward. The air was hot and stale, buzzing with the hum of old fluorescent lights. Min-joon's breathing was ragged, footsteps tripping over the uneven floor. Keller kicked open the rusty back door just as the front was smashed inward behind them.

Gunfire erupted.

Bullets shredded the cheap plaster walls, sending dust into the air. Lin shoved Min-joon through the exit first, then yanked the scout by the ropes. Keller was last, firing two quick shots down the hall before slamming the door behind him.

The alley they spilled into reeked of rotting food and damp concrete. Neon spilled from a nightclub sign above, painting the walls blood-red. Rain slicked the pavement, reflecting fractured colors.

"This way!" Lin barked, already sprinting down the narrow passage.

They ran. Feet splashed through puddles, shoulders brushing against graffiti-smeared walls as shouts rose behind them. The scout stumbled but Lin kept him upright with brutal efficiency. Keller's pistol barked again, forcing their pursuers to take cover.

They burst onto a wider street where Seoul's nightlife was alive—crowds of revelers spilling from bars, laughter and music colliding with the tension of their chase. It was chaos, but chaos was cover.

"Blends us in," Lin muttered, forcing the group into the throng.

Keller scowled. "With him tied up? Yeah, real subtle."

Lin didn't answer. He shoved the scout's arms tighter to his side, disguising the ropes as best he could under the man's jacket. To anyone watching, it would look like a drunk being half-carried by friends.

But the hunters were closing in. Lin could feel their eyes—trained, searching, too sharp to be fooled by crowds.

"Left," Lin hissed. He pulled the group into another alley, one narrower, darker. The sound of the city dulled here, replaced by the steady hum of an old transformer box and the scurry of rats.

Behind them, boots struck pavement. Voices shouted in clipped Korean. Flashlights cut beams through the dark.

"Keep moving," Keller urged.

They climbed a flight of iron stairs that rattled with each step. The scout stumbled deliberately, slowing them, but Keller shoved him forward with a growl. At the top, they crossed a precarious rooftop ledge. Below, traffic roared, oblivious to the war unfolding above their heads.

"Lin, we're boxed in!" Min-joon cried as another set of flashlights appeared at the far end of the roof.

Lin scanned fast. His eyes caught the faint outline of a construction scaffold bridging to the next building. Unstable, but passable.

"There," he pointed. "Go!"

Keller didn't hesitate—he vaulted onto the scaffold, the metal groaning under his weight. Min-joon followed shakily. Lin dragged the scout, shoving him onto the boards. The structure swayed, screws squealing.

Halfway across, gunfire erupted again. Bullets pinged off the metal, sparking. Min-joon screamed but kept crawling. Lin fired back, controlled bursts, forcing the shooters to duck.

They made it across, collapsing onto the rooftop. The scaffold shook violently before tearing loose behind them with a crash, cutting off their pursuers for the moment.

Silence, except for the rush of their breaths.

Keller spat over the edge. "That'll buy us a few minutes. No more."

Lin nodded. His mind was already racing ahead, searching for a route. The scout, meanwhile, coughed out a laugh even while pinned against the rooftop gravel.

"You think you've escaped," the scout sneered. His lips curled, teeth streaked with blood. "But you've already been marked."

Lin's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

The scout tilted his head back, grin widening despite the bruises. "Check your pockets. Your clothes. He's always watching."

Keller swore and patted himself down. Min-joon did the same, panic growing on his face.

Lin was methodical, searching with precision. At first nothing—then his hand froze. Inside the inner seam of his jacket, hidden so cleverly it felt almost weightless, was a thin disc no bigger than a coin. Cold metal.

A tracker.

Lin held it up. The tiny light on it blinked red.

The scout laughed, louder now, echoing across the rooftop. "Every step you take, Jin knows. Seoul is his chessboard. And you—" he jerked his chin at Lin, eyes alight with cruel glee—"you're just another piece."

Min-joon stumbled back, face pale. Keller's knuckles went white around his pistol.

Lin crushed the tracker in his palm, the plastic and metal cracking under his grip. But even as he did, the unease didn't leave him. If Jin had planted this, he'd already accounted for its loss.

The hunter wasn't just behind them. He was ahead of them too.

Lin stared at the blinking fragments in his hand, then at the laughing scout. For the first time since surfacing, a chill ran through him deeper than the cold Seoul night.

This wasn't just a chase anymore.

It was a game—and Jin was already three moves ahead.