CHAPTER 168: CHAPTER 168: THE ROOFTOP INFERNO

The night sky of Seoul was torn open by gunfire. Muzzle flashes cracked against the horizon, lighting up the edges of rooftop billboards and neon-lit signs. Lin ducked behind a rusted ventilation duct, the concrete around him erupting as bullets smacked into it, sending sharp chips into the air. His pulse hammered in his ears, steady and relentless, like the ticking of a countdown he couldn’t escape.

Keller slid into cover beside him, rifle clutched tight, his breath ragged. "They’re everywhere, Lin. Left flank’s crawling. I count at least eight—no, ten."

Lin risked a glance. Across the gap of narrow rooftops, black-clad silhouettes darted along parapets and scaffolding. Red targeting dots swept over walls and metal, scanning. Jin’s men had moved with frightening coordination, bottling them up in less than a minute.

"Min-joon!" Lin barked.

"I’m here!" Min-joon’s voice carried from behind an old AC unit. He crouched low, clutching his sidearm like a lifeline. His face was pale in the neon light, but his eyes burned with fear and stubborn resolve.

The scout—their prisoner—was still bound, lying prone near Keller’s feet. He was half-laughing, half-choking on his own nerves. "You thought you could outrun him?" he spat. "Jin doesn’t chase. He sets the stage. And you fools walked right onto it."

Keller silenced him with a sharp kick to the ribs. "Shut it."

But Lin knew the scout wasn’t bluffing. Jin’s timing was too precise, the movements of his hunters too orchestrated. This wasn’t just pursuit—it was choreography.

Bullets ricocheted off the metal duct, ringing like a bell. Keller swore and returned fire in sharp bursts, forcing two gunmen into cover. "We can’t stay pinned! They’ll box us in from the right next!"

Lin’s mind spun. The rooftop terrain was both their cage and their chance. Seoul’s skyline sprawled beneath them—endless concrete, ladders, rooftop gardens, half-built towers, all stitched together in a vertical maze. If they could outpace Jin’s hunters, maybe, just maybe, they could slip into the night again.

But Jin didn’t sound like a man who intended to lose.

A voice crackled across the rooftops, carried through hidden speakers or perhaps handheld comms. Smooth, controlled, venom wrapped in silk.

"Lin."

The single word froze him.

Keller’s head snapped toward him. Min-joon went still, as if the air itself had been cut.

The voice came again, deeper, almost amused. "You run well. Better than most. But running only sharpens the blade. So run. Prove you deserve the chase."

It was Jin. Speaking directly to him, taunting him from the shadows.

Lin’s jaw clenched. He couldn’t pinpoint the source of the voice—it seemed to bounce between rooftops, disorienting, impossible to trace.

Keller growled, "He’s playing with us."

"Which means he’s watching," Lin said quietly. His fingers tightened around his pistol. "Every move we make, he’s studying it."

A sudden burst of gunfire forced them lower. One of Jin’s men lobbed a smoke canister onto the rooftop, and in seconds the air thickened, white tendrils curling into every crevice.

Lin coughed, pulling his mask tighter. Visibility plummeted. Shadows darted through the smoke like ghosts. The sound of boots slamming against steel ladders echoed from every direction.

"They’re moving in!" Min-joon shouted, panic breaking into his tone.

"Stick close!" Lin ordered. He fired blind into the smoke, not to hit but to stall. He could feel the trap closing. They had one chance left: go vertical.

He spotted a rusted ladder bolted to the side of the next rooftop. It climbed toward a higher platform above a neon-lit billboard. From there, they might find an escape route into the old market streets.

"Keller, take the prisoner. Min-joon, cover left. Move!" Lin barked.

They surged out of cover, bullets tearing the smoke apart. Keller dragged the scout like dead weight, grunting as he half-carried, half-dragged him toward the ladder. Min-joon fired desperately into shifting silhouettes, his shots cracking through the smoke like flares.

Lin sprinted ahead, vaulted a broken vent, and grabbed the ladder. Rust flaked under his grip as he hauled himself upward, every muscle straining. Behind him, Keller shoved the prisoner upward with brute force before climbing after him.

Bullets whined past. One grazed Keller’s shoulder—he snarled but kept climbing. Min-joon scrambled last, barely dodging a spray that shattered glass inches from his face.

The higher platform gave them brief reprieve. Neon light from a garish karaoke sign washed them in flickering pink and blue. The wind was stronger here, whipping smoke into ribbons. Below, Jin’s hunters moved like insects swarming toward their perch.

"We can’t hold this!" Min-joon panted, his chest heaving. "They’ll climb up in seconds!"

"Then we don’t hold," Lin said. His eyes scanned the skyline. A series of rooftops stretched ahead—some low, some high, connected by shaky ladders, planks, and scaffolds. A chaotic, dangerous path—but a path nonetheless.

"Run," Lin said.

Keller gave a dark grin. "Finally, something I agree with."

They bolted. Lin led, vaulting over a gap onto a lower roof, landing hard and rolling to absorb the shock. Keller came next, dragging the scout in a brutal half-throw, half-shove. Min-joon hesitated, staring down at the dizzying drop—then jumped, barely making the landing.

Behind them, Jin’s men followed like predators. The skyline became a battlefield. Shadows leapt from roof to roof, flashes of gunfire illuminating the night. Each landing sent pain shooting through Lin’s legs, but he didn’t slow.

A bullet ripped past Min-joon, nearly knocking him off balance. Lin grabbed his arm, hauling him forward. "Stay with me!"

They hurdled laundry lines, ducked under rooftop gardens, crashed through makeshift sheds. The neon glow of Seoul blurred into streaks of pink, green, and blue, painting the chaos like a fever dream.

Jin’s voice followed them, calm and unhurried. "Better. Faster. Don’t falter now, Lin. The moment you stop, the game ends."

Lin’s teeth ground together. He wasn’t going to let Jin dictate the rules.

But every escape brought them closer to exhaustion. Min-joon stumbled more with each jump. Keller’s wound left a growing smear of blood on his sleeve. Even Lin felt the weight of the chase dragging on his lungs like fire.

Then they saw it—a half-abandoned office building ahead, its windows shattered, its rooftop access door hanging open.

"That’s our hole!" Keller barked.

They dove inside, slamming the rooftop door shut behind them. The silence inside was immediate, jarring after the chaos outside. The building smelled of dust and mold, the floor littered with broken chairs and scattered papers.

They slumped into cover, catching their breath.

For a moment, they thought they had finally found a reprieve.

But Lin’s instincts screamed.

The air felt wrong—too still, too prepared. The silence wasn’t relief. It was a trap waiting to spring.

Keller noticed it too. His eyes narrowed. "Lin. You feel it?"

Lin scanned the dim interior. The open space was littered with tripwires, faintly glinting under the flicker of a failing fluorescent light. C4 packs were tucked into the corners, expertly concealed but unmistakable.

Min-joon’s eyes went wide. "No..."

The prisoner laughed weakly, his voice rasping. "You really don’t get it, do you? Jin didn’t chase you in here... He led you."

Lin’s stomach dropped.

The entire building was rigged.

Jin’s voice whispered from a hidden speaker, low and close, as if he were standing right beside them.

"And now... we see if you can escape the fire."

The fluorescent light flickered once—then went out.