CHAPTER 166: CHAPTER 166: NEON SHADOWS

The alley pressed in on them like a vice. Neon signs buzzed overhead, their flickering reds and blues staining the rain-slick concrete. Trash bins lined the walls, their stench mingling with the oily drizzle that fell from the rooftops. And at the far end of the narrow lane, stepping out from the shadows as if the whole city bent to his timing, stood Jin.

Lin’s eyes narrowed. For weeks, Jin had been a shadow, a rumor whispered through their enemies, a name spat by the dying. Now here he was, sharp suit unwrinkled, shoes polished to a mirror’s gleam, standing in Seoul’s filth like he owned it. His expression was calm, even amused, as though he had orchestrated this very moment.

"Lin," Jin said softly, his voice carrying over the hum of the neon. "I was beginning to think you’d keep running forever. But fate is merciful. It brings you to me."

Keller shifted his stance, gun already raised, finger taut on the trigger. The captive scout—still bound at the wrists but grinning through split lips—snorted a laugh. "Told you," he muttered. "You never walk where Jin doesn’t allow it."

Min-joon trembled. His hand hovered uselessly near his sidearm, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. "We should move," he whispered, though his voice cracked like breaking glass. "Now, Lin—before—"

"Quiet," Lin cut him off, his tone flat but razor-sharp. His focus never left Jin. Every detail mattered: the calm placement of his hands, the subtle angle of his shoulders, the alley behind him that could easily hide reinforcements. Jin wasn’t here to kill them outright. He was here to talk. And that made him even more dangerous.

"What do you want?" Lin asked at last, voice cold, steady.

Jin’s smile widened, though not warmly. "You’ve made a mess of things beneath my city. Burning bridges, stealing contacts, dragging around stray foreigners like they’re your shield." His eyes flicked briefly toward Keller, then Min-joon. "And yet... here you stand, unbroken. I have to admit, I admire that. You’re harder to kill than most."

"Flattered," Keller spat, gun unwavering. "But if you take one more step—"

"Keller." Lin’s single word was enough to hold him back. They couldn’t afford to fire first. Not yet.

Jin raised a brow. "You keep a leash on him well. That discipline will serve you... if you choose correctly tonight."

"And what choice is that?" Lin asked.

The neon light caught Jin’s eyes, making them glint like wet obsidian. "Join me. Or die hunted. You know what I offer isn’t empty. You’ve seen the reach of my hand. Police, politicians, syndicates—Seoul bends because I whisper. And you—" He tilted his head. "You’ve been here before. You know how easily it swallows men who stand alone."

The words dug at Lin in ways Keller and Min-joon couldn’t see. Memories flickered—nights long ago, years before this mess, when Seoul’s alleys had been his refuge and his cage. Jin knew something. The precision of his tone wasn’t random.

Keller snarled. "Enough. Lin, let me put him down—"

"No." Lin’s refusal was sharp, but his chest tightened. Every second wasted meant danger. He could feel it—the alley’s pulse. Hidden footsteps, the whisper of metal against wet brick. Jin was stalling.

"You think stalling me keeps you safe?" Lin asked suddenly, his voice rising. His gaze swept the rooftops. "How many are waiting? Ten? Twenty? You want me cornered, Jin, but you’re too afraid to step closer yourself."

Jin’s smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened. "Afraid? No, Lin. I’m simply patient. Fear is for men who have something to lose. You..." His gaze lingered on Min-joon, trembling, sweat dripping down his jaw. "You still keep fragile things near you. That’s your weakness."

Min-joon stiffened as though struck. Keller’s gun twitched upward. "Say one more word—"

"Do it," Jin invited, his voice suddenly sharp, a challenge dressed as permission. "Kill me now. See how far you run before my city eats you alive."

For a moment, the alley froze. Rain hissed against the neon. Min-joon’s ragged breathing filled the silence. Keller’s knuckles whitened on his grip. And Lin... Lin felt the weight of the decision crushing down on him. Every instinct screamed that Jin was baiting them, but inaction was no safer. The longer they stood here, the closer the noose drew.

Then Lin made the choice.

"Smoke," he muttered.

Keller’s eyes widened, then narrowed. Without hesitation, his free hand dipped to his belt, pulling a small canister. With a sharp twist and throw, the alley exploded in thick, acrid smoke. Neon fractured into jagged beams, painting the haze in bleeding color. Shouts echoed—hidden men scrambling in confusion. Lin lunged forward, shoving Min-joon toward the nearest ladder bolted to the wall.

"Up!" Lin barked. "Move!"

The scout coughed, struggling against his binds, laughter still rasping from his throat. "Cowards—always running—"

Keller silenced him with a brutal strike to the ribs, dragging him along as they scrambled upward. Gunfire cracked through the smoke, bullets sparking against steel. A muzzle flash illuminated Jin’s silhouette briefly—still calm, still unmoving—as though the chaos itself bent to him.

They reached the rooftop, lungs burning, smoke trailing behind them. The city sprawled beneath—a maze of neon-lit markets, hissing steam vents, and the dull glow of the Han River in the distance. But there was no relief. Shadows stirred below. Reinforcements. More boots. More rifles.

"They’re everywhere," Min-joon gasped, clutching the ladder rail. His voice trembled. "We can’t—we can’t outrun this—"

"Yes, we can," Lin said flatly. His eyes swept the rooftops. The market stretched below, lanterns swaying, stalls packed tight with tarps and crates. It was chaos waiting to be used. "We go down, lose them in the crowd. Keller, take the scout. Don’t let him slow you."

Keller spat blood, hefting the bound man like dead weight. "If he screams, I’ll shut him up."

"Good." Lin grabbed Min-joon’s collar, forcing him forward. "Stay close. One misstep and you’re gone."

They leapt across narrow gaps, boots slamming against corrugated steel. Gunfire barked from behind, bullets whistling past. Vendors below shouted in confusion as debris clattered down. Lin didn’t stop. He vaulted down a service ladder, shoving into the chaos of the market. Smoke from food stalls mixed with neon glare. Crowds pressed tight, oblivious or uncaring.

"Blend," Lin ordered. He shoved Keller into the throng, dragging Min-joon at his side. The scout stumbled, bound hands drawing glances, but Lin barked something sharp in Korean—just enough to make bystanders hesitate. They pushed deeper, swallowed by the crowd.

For a heartbeat, Lin almost believed they’d shaken free. The noise, the press of bodies, the kaleidoscope of light—it all shielded them. But then Keller stiffened.

"Lin," he growled. His eyes weren’t on the crowd. They were on the scout. More specifically—on the faint red blink pulsing from beneath the man’s collar.

Lin’s stomach dropped. In the chaos of the rooftop, in the scramble and smoke—they hadn’t checked. The scout had been wearing it the whole time. A tracker.

The captive smirked through bloodied lips, teeth shining in the neon. "You can’t run from Jin," he croaked, voice barely audible over the market’s roar. "He already knows where you are. He always knows."

Lin’s grip tightened on Min-joon’s shoulder. Keller raised his gun halfway, fury trembling in his jaw. And above the din, faint but growing, came the sound of sirens converging.

The city wasn’t just closing in. It was already clenched.