Jun-ho stepped out of the car. The place was remote, dry. In the distance, an old wooden house.
As he got closer, a few soldiers emerged from the doorway with weapons drawn. None moved. They simply made way.
Inside the car, Salin watched, heart in his throat. But then he saw the men bow. To Jun-ho.
Inside the house, Colen was tied to a chair, panting. His face was paler than usual. He'd been dragged out of sleep by soldiers he thought he could trust. He didn't even get a chance to process it. Deep down, he knew it was the end. And that certainty solidified when Jun-ho walked in, calmly pulled up a chair, and sat directly across from him.
— Can you talk, Colen? — he asked, mocking, staring at the tape over the man's mouth. — How does it feel knowing you were played right up to the last second?
Colen's pale eyes widened. Jun-ho ripped off the tape with disdain.
