After M killed Jules, he stared coldly at the lifeless body lying in a pool of blood. His eyes under the mask didn't didn't change—no guilt, no hesitation, just the same icy calm he always carried, like the person he had just killed is a worthless chicken. Without a word, he turned away and walked out of the storeroom, shutting the door behind him quietly.
Outside, the dim corridors of K's hidden base buzzed faintly with the sound of machinery and distant voices. M moved through the shadows effortlessly, his every step calculated. He avoided the security patrols, slipping behind walls and slipping through narrow gaps like a ghost. The men guarding the building had no idea that someone had just passed right under their noses.
