Bres surveyed the interior of the factory.
Only a few guards were in the building, most of them on the first floor.
Some were even dozing off.
With the dim lighting inside, it was the perfect opportunity.
He looked toward the second-floor office—all the lights were off.
From every angle, it was the ideal time to act.
Holding his breath, Bres crept up to the second floor.
No need to worry about the cameras anymore—he’d just discovered the office also housed the security monitoring room, and it was empty right now.
‘As long as I tamper with the recordings before I leave, everything will be fine.’
Thinking this, Bres took out a few lockpicks and began working on the keyhole.
A few minutes later, the office door swung open silently.
Bres tiptoed inside, making sure to close the blinds so the glow from the computer screen wouldn’t alert the guards downstairs.
Now for the critical step. He booted up the computer.
He easily cracked the system’s defenses, wiped the surveillance recordings, and began installing a backdoor program.
The screen flickered, and a loading bar appeared.
25%.
60%.
90%.
Done.
But the expected operation screen didn’t show up.
“What’s going on?”
As Bres wondered, a piercing alarm blared through the factory.
Then the office door locked automatically, and iron shutters slammed down over the windows.
Commotion erupted downstairs as the guards began gathering.
“Shit.”
Bres broke out in a cold sweat.
‘I walked right into a trap.’
Bang! Bang!
“Huff… huff…”
Bres slammed a chair against the iron shutter on the window several times, but it didn’t budge.
“I’d advise you to save your strength, Mr. Brace Enfield.”
As he gasped for breath, a man’s voice came from outside the door—that cloying, unmistakable tone.
“Veles.”
Bres sighed, almost as if he’d expected it.
“You don’t sound surprised.”
“How to put it… I’ve always had this gut feeling that you’d stab me in the back someday.”
“I deeply regret that you didn’t trust your intuition.”
“So, care to tell me why? The reason an intermediary would do this.”
Veles paused on the other side of the door.
“There are many reasons. For instance, your ridiculous principles?”
“You’d kill me for that? You really are petty.”
“Heh. Of course, that’s not all. You always cause me trouble. Picking and choosing jobs is within my tolerance, but causing problems for other people? That’s not acceptable.”
With a click, a small hatch on the door slid open, and several gun barrels poked through.
“By the way, your taste in decor is atrocious.”
The dark muzzles aimed at Bres.
Gunfire erupted.
An instant before they fired, Bres rolled behind the desk.
Bullets whizzed past his head, shattering everything around him—vases, electronics—debris clattering at his feet.
Thankfully, the desk was thick enough.
After a moment, the gunfire stopped.
Several large men wielding guns and batons, equipped with combat prosthetics, stepped in.
The guards cautiously advanced toward the desk, guns raised.
But instead of Bres’s corpse, they found a flashbang on the floor.
Bang!
The guards clutched their eyes in pain.
Bres took the chance to dive out of cover, raised his pistol, and aimed at one guard’s forehead.
The guard’s vision had just cleared, but it was too late.
Bres grinned and pulled the trigger.
Click.
“…What the hell?”
The gun jammed.
In a flash, Bres recalled the morning.
—This, this is my new sidearm! I accidentally dropped it here! Glad I found it…
‘Goddammit.’
He flipped the gun around and smashed the butt into the guard’s skull.
Veles stood on the first floor, cigarette in mouth, watching the commotion upstairs.
The gunfire had been fierce at first, then sporadic, and now it had stopped entirely—no other sounds for a while.
The wait made Veles increasingly anxious.
Suddenly, Bres’s voice came from the second floor.
“Your men’s combat skills need work, Veles.”
Bres appeared at the office window, flipping Veles off.
Despite being covered in blood, he looked completely composed.
Veles’s cigarette fell to the floor.
“No way…”
It had been five on one.
Just as Veles was about to order the other Giant Gang members forward, a large hand gripped his shoulder.
He turned around, his panic shifting to relief.
“…I want to take him on.”
“He’s all yours, Pei Lun.”
Inside the wrecked office, several guard bodies lay scattered.
Bres sat on the bullet-riddled desk, breathing heavily.
He’d put on a brave face, but he was nearing his limit.
The weapons he’d taken were either broken or out of ammo—he was completely unarmed now.
‘Is this where I end up…?’
As nostalgic memories flashed before his eyes, heavy footsteps echoed from outside the door.
A bald giant over two meters tall squeezed into the office.
He carried no weapons.
Bres looked surprised.
“Giant Bear?”
This was the man Bres had once bet on in a boxing match.
“My name is Pei Lun. Callsign: Giant Bear.”
After a brief introduction, Pei Lun assumed a boxing stance.
Forcing down the metallic taste in his throat, Bres smiled and took the same stance.
“Bring it on.”
A few minutes later, Pei Lun dragged Bres, limp as a dead fish, down the stairs and threw him at Veles’s feet.
“Quite a sorry state, Brace Enfield.”
Bres lay motionless on the ground.
Veles nudged him over with his foot, revealing his black-and-blue face.
Seeing Bres in such a pathetic condition, Veles lit a second cigarette with satisfaction.
“That really eased my frustration. Thanks, Pei Lun.”
Pei Lun nodded and stepped aside.
“Any last words, Bres?”
Veles crouched beside him.
“Depending on what they are, I might pass them along.”
Bres’s lips moved, his voice barely a whisper.
“What?”
Veles leaned in and heard:
“That… that was never his weak spot… you fight-fixing bastard…”
Veles glanced at Pei Lun, who just shrugged.
“What a boring final statement. Well then, goodbye, Bre—”
Before Veles could finish, screams erupted from outside the factory.
The other Giant Gang members turned their guns from Bres toward the door.
A girl in a red coat walked into the factory.
“Hello, have you seen—”
When she spotted Bres lying on the floor, her voice cut off.
“…Well, I guess I don’t need to ask.”