Murder was prohibited. Injury was permitted.

　　He understood the rules. Jiho shifted his aim just past the Russian’s crotch, shot him in the thigh, and immediately dove for cover behind the sofa.

　　The guy collapsed, clutching his leg, and let out a long, agonized scream. In a matter of seconds, or perhaps minutes, the bullet would tear through his muscles and flesh to exit the other side.

　　Heavy footsteps thundered from behind as a swarm of Russian bastards, easily pushing six-foot-six, rushed in. Incomprehensible Russian shouts assaulted his ears.

　　Kill them all! Or something to that effect.

　　The fundamental rule of combat is to utilize your surroundings. The textbook maxims he had stared at until he practically burned holes in the pages at the police academy flashed through his mind.

　　The lobby was long and narrow like a hallway, making it difficult for the enemies to surround them. As long as they could guard their rear, being outnumbered actually worked in their favor. Or rather, it made them slightly less disadvantaged.

　　The massive chandeliers on the ceiling caught his eye. Jiho shot the stems of five of them in rapid succession. The colossal fixtures, adorned with sharp, candlestick-shaped crystals, plummeted right onto the bastards’ heads.

　　“Aaaagh!”

　　Screams and Russian curses erupted from all directions. The crushing blow left several of the men covered in blood.

　　Glass shards exploded outward. Someone was crushed directly beneath the main body of a chandelier. The enemies’ fierce momentum faltered for a split second. In the midst of the chaos, Haegyeon managed to snatch a gun.

　　But that was it. The monstrously built, skinhead Russian gangsters staggered back to their feet, blood streaming down their faces. They needed to thin the herd of blood-soaked bastards charging at them, and fast.

　　The difference in combat power between two and three people isn’t huge, but the difference between fighting solo and as a duo is massive. With a partner, you can guard each other’s backs, expanding a limited 180-degree field of vision into a full 360.

　　Thwip, thwip, thwip, thwip, thwip.

　　Haegyeon’s shooting style was incredibly rapid. The bullets fired in quick succession all found their marks in the enemies’ legs. Even with his forearm muscles bulging from the tension, his movements were remarkably fluid. Naturally, there was zero recoil. If he had angled his wrist just fifteen degrees higher to aim for their abdomens, he would have looked no different from a bloodthirsty demon.

　　Jiho, who had been watching his marksmanship as if entranced, snapped out of it and raised his own weapon to guard their rear.

　　The Russians were visibly shaken by the sight of their comrades collapsing helplessly, knees buckling beneath them.

　　Usually, in a gunfight, striking first guaranteed victory. But as always, there were exceptions.

　　Taking the vanguard, Haegyeon grabbed the men who were still standing one by one, using them as human shields. Knowing that even a slight misaim would result in shooting their own men, the enemies hesitated. Not to mention, the .22 caliber revolvers they held were notoriously inaccurate.

　　Unable to fire wildly, their sheer numbers and .22 caliber weapons no longer worked to their advantage.

　　“I’ll use three shots on the left, and that was two just now, so…”

　　Haegyeon was going to run out of ammo soon. A revolver of that size likely held ten rounds. There were models that held up to twelve, but they were rare.

　　Guarding the rear, taking cover and picking off targets like a sniper, Jiho counted the fallen men. Seven of them were already writhing on the ground. The tide had rapidly turned despite their numerical disadvantage, but the remaining enemies were now thoroughly enraged.

　　It was almost terrifying how they kept getting back up, again and again, even after being shot. The ones who managed to stand were slowly pushing forward.

　　The .22 caliber bullets didn’t lodge in the body; they passed right through. Only when the exit wounds finally tore open in their flesh did the bastards foam at the mouth and collapse. But by then, they had already served their purpose. It was a rare display of sheer willpower.

　　Thump, thump.

　　The sound, far too quiet to be a typical gunshot, cruelly brushed past his ears. The acrid stench of sulfur and gunpowder settled thickly over the floor.

　　“Ugh…!”

　　Strangely enough, the sounds made by an ally and an enemy were distinctly different. A bullet had grazed Haegyeon’s shoulder. He flicked his wrist a couple of times, but his revolver only clicked uselessly. He was out of ammo.

　　Haegyeon immediately dropped low, grabbed one of the fallen men, and dragged him up to use as a meat shield.

　　As if by prior agreement, the two of them had naturally split the front and rear guard. And it was only right for the rear guard to handle resupplying.

　　Jiho picked out one of the fallen men closest to him who looked the least injured. It was a guy with orange-red hair.

　　“Hey, hand over your ammo.”

　　He even gestured with his chin, but unfortunately, the bastard lacked the situational awareness to understand Korean. Frustrated, Jiho fired a shot at the man’s feet. As if he genuinely had no idea what was being demanded, the guy wailed and shook his head frantically.

　　“Ammo. Bullets, you son of a bitch.”

　　He even kindly pointed at the man’s holster to spell it out, but the guy was crying so hard he couldn’t think straight, merely trembling in terror.

　　“If I search you and find some, you’re dead.”

　　He bent down and patted the guy down a few times, but came up empty. He was out of time.

　　“Ah, shit… Kneel. Move.”

　　Ultimately, he pressed the muzzle against the redhead’s back, forcing him to walk on his knees, and advanced using him as a human shield. The guy, already suffering from gunshot wounds to his legs and feet, shrieked continuously, but no one spared him a glance.

　　Two revolvers lay discarded just a short distance away.

　　Once they were close enough, Jiho shot his human shield in the other leg, stripping him of any chance to try and grab the weapons himself. The redhead, now riddled with multiple gunshot wounds, foamed at the mouth and collapsed. Jiho safely snatched up the guns.

　　The guns were heavy. They felt fully loaded.

　　“Spasibo, motherfucker.”

　　Spitting out the only Russian word he knew, Jiho raised the gun and immediately dropped another Russian gangster.

　　Phut.

　　It was a guy who had been aiming right at Haegyeon. Having bought them a brief window of time, Jiho wedged the newly acquired gun behind his knee to secure it, popped the cylinder to check how many rounds were left, reloaded it, and snapped it shut.

　　“Seven rounds left!”

　　He slid the gun across the floor, and it landed perfectly in Haegyeon’s grasp. Haegyeon spun around and resumed his phantom-like rapid fire.

　　Even in the midst of this chaotic firefight, his eyes remained dead calm. Every time he ducked to avoid incoming fire, the fabric across the back of his suit stretched taut. With the sharp squeak of his dress shoes sliding across the floor, he defended and attacked from all sides, as if he had eyes in the back of his head.

　　Gripping two firearms, Jiho backed him up from the rear, dual-wielding the guns as if he were a master swordsman.

　　Just when he thought they had almost cleared the room—

　　The elevator doors chimed open. Even though they were foreigners currently inflicting severe bodily harm on Russian citizens, Jiho would have been thrilled to see Russian police uniforms.

　　But contrary to his desperate hopes, the people pouring out like a tidal wave were Russian gangsters in pitch-black suits, cut from the exact same cloth as the ones they were currently fighting. Only this time, there were even more of them. No matter how skilled they were, taking on those numbers was suicide.

　　“…You want to go another round?”

　　The sheer absurdity of it made a laugh bubble up from his throat.

　　SNAP.

　　A bullet grazed right past his ear.

　　“Aaagh…!”

　　A guy who had managed to sneak up beside him collapsed, his joints twisting unnaturally like a zombie. The bastard, who already had a hole the size of a quarter blown through his leg, had forced himself up through sheer willpower to take a shot at Jiho.

　　“Snap out of it.”

　　You always listen to the guy who just saved your life. Jiho let out a heavy exhale and forced his eyes wide open, sharpening his focus.

　　His ally stepped up beside him, standing at a ninety-degree angle to Jiho’s stance. Since they had secured the rear, there was no need to stand back-to-back to cover a full 360 degrees. As their bodies brushed against each other, Jiho could feel Haegyeon’s searing body heat and ragged breathing.

　　Jiho’s anxious gaze remained locked forward. His lips went dry at the sight of the black-suited horde flooding in through the entrance.

　　We’re completely cornered…

　　“Do we have a chance?”

　　Haegyeon answered Jiho’s impatient question.

　　“Turn the corner at one o’clock, emergency exit on the left.”

　　“Copy that.”

　　Though he couldn’t physically see the door from where they stood, Jiho stared through the wall and confirmed. In a flash, Haegyeon fired three shots.

　　Thwip, thwip.

　　Three men dropped instantly. Jiho followed up, shooting two more.

　　“Good job.”

　　“Yeah… These leech-like motherfuckers…”

　　Realizing they couldn’t easily take the two of them down, the Russians began recklessly closing the distance. Even the fallen ones kept trying to lunge at them.

　　If they made a break for the emergency exit right now, their backs would be riddled with bullets. What should they do…?

　　“Make a run for the exit. I’ll create an opening.”

　　Before Jiho could even process what that meant, Haegyeon dove toward a fire extinguisher in the corner. He hurled the red cylinder into the air and fired a shot straight into its body. The whole sequence took barely three seconds.

　　With a loud hiss, a thick white cloud instantly filled the space, acting like a smoke grenade.

　　Nice bird shot.

　　Jiho’s vision went completely white, as if someone had smeared chalk over his eyes. However, he had already memorized the layout, and he was confident in his sense of direction.

　　He sprinted forward blindly, letting his feet guide him, but a sliver of doubt crept in as he hurdled over the bodies littering the floor. Did my trajectory shift when I jumped over that guy?

　　Just as he was running purely on instinct, someone snatched his wrist.

　　“This way.”

　　Still got that soft, gentle voice, huh.

　　Comically enough, he still had the presence of mind to think such things. He felt an immediate wave of relief the second he heard that voice. He implicitly trusted that Haegyeon knew exactly where they needed to go. The grip on his wrist was ironclad. Beneath the tight pressure, his pulse hammered hot and fast.

　　“Don’t let go of my hand!”

　　About five hundred feet. It was a hell of a distance to sprint completely blind. They could easily get their ankles grabbed by the bastards writhing on the floor like damned souls in hellfire.

　　However, hyper-aware of the searing body heat tethered to him, Jiho just kept running. He stepped on squishy flesh several times along the way, but strangely enough, his feet felt incredibly light.

　　Reaching a dead end, the doorknob turned, and the door swung open.