The Syndicate didn't send a warning.
They sent ghosts.
Not new recruits. Not panic puppets. But trained blades — a hidden sect known only among Syndicate inner circles as The Silent Wane.
An elite unit of former assassins turned enforcers, the kind of shadows that only moved when Kang Seo-Yul whispered death. No photos. No history. Only results.
And now, for the first time in years, they were activated.
---
Gin Chan didn't know he was walking into a trap.
The lead had been clean — too clean. A burned email thread suggesting that Kang Seo-Yul's campaign headquarters was laundering funds through a rooftop penthouse real estate firm.
It matched the data he'd extracted from the second company in Beat 2.
Roku had hesitated.
> "It doesn't smell right," the hacker warned.
"This is… too convenient."
But Gin didn't have the luxury of doubt. Not when Yoon Seo was still being watched. Not when the threads were tightening.
So he went.
---
The building was the Eunsan Pinnacle, fifty-seven stories high, located in the commercial district of Daeyang City. Sleek glass, steel nerves, and a private rooftop helipad.
Gin entered through the service elevator dressed as delivery personnel, glock tucked behind the tray crate, blades laced under his boots.
He reached the top floor.
No sound. No heat signatures.
Just still air.
> "Too quiet…" he muttered.
And then…
The glass behind him exploded.
A man — lean, sinewy, braided hair — launched from a line rappel, crashing into the hallway like a missile. Gin barely ducked before a knife split the air, missing his jaw by inches.
A second figure appeared from the shadows — heavier, broader — swinging a baton wrapped in barbed metal.
Gin kicked the crate at the bigger man and spun backward, slashing upward as the first attacker lunged again.
Steel met steel.
The hallway became war.
Gin slid beneath a punch and smashed his elbow into the ribs of the larger man — a dull thud as bone gave way. The man grunted, staggered, but didn't fall.
The braided one danced like a wasp — his twin blades cutting air.
Gin ducked one, blocked the second with his forearm — pain flared instantly.
He twisted his leg into a low sweep, but the assassin flipped over him, landed behind, and jammed a dagger into Gin's side.
He gasped — blood, hot and fast, soaked through his shirt.
He turned, gripped the wrist, and snapped it in one motion.
> CRACK!
The man screamed, but Gin kneed him in the chin mid-cry, sending him sprawling.
The bigger one was back. Charged.
Gin dropped to his knees at the last second and thrust upward with a hidden blade — straight into the man's stomach.
The force lifted the brute slightly before he crashed down like a dropped slab of meat.
But Gin wasn't done.
The first man — bleeding, wrist shattered — was on his feet again.
"You're not the only ghost," he snarled.
> "Neither are you," Gin replied.
They clashed again — blade against blade, bone against fury.
Punches landed. Bones cracked. Every inch of space became a battlefield.
Blood painted the walls.
The fight pushed through a broken window onto the helipad. Rain had started falling. The city below flickered like a galaxy trapped beneath glass.
The two figures stumbled, grappled, cursed.
Gin managed a kick — the assassin fell to one knee.
Gin lunged — but the man pulled a small detonator from his pocket and slammed it against Gin's chest.
An electric pulse shot through his vest. Gin staggered — stunned.
> "You're good," the man said, breathing hard.
"But this isn't a story where you win."
He charged.
Gin caught the momentum, twisted, and they both lost their footing.
Together, tangled, bloodied and breathless — they plummeted from the edge.
The fall seemed to last forever.
A whisper of wind.
A silence.
And then—
> THUD.
Two bodies. Lifeless. Broken.
---
The news hit by noon.
"RED TRACE DEAD?"
"Secret Assassin Falls From Daeyang Skyscraper in Apparent Fight."
"Police Officer Linked to Criminal Deaths Confirmed Among Victims."
The media didn't wait for details.
They named him: Jin Myung, badge 3127 — listed as a "potential mole" within the force.
They blamed him: Accused him of orchestrating the murders of Baek Do-Won, Minjae, and two now-shuttered corporations.
They painted him: A rogue cop. A bitter ex-agent. An unstable vigilante turned killer.
None of them knew the truth.
None knew he was the one fighting the real monsters.
And yet… the city exhaled.
The "assassin" was dead.
The red threads… were gone.
Or so they thought.
---
But the threads don't die. They wait.
And somewhere… someone was watching the footage
over and over again.
Someone knew that fall didn't kill everything.
Only part of it.
The city mourned.
The media celebrated.
The public moved on.
But in the shadowed offices of power — in glass towers, in hidden chambers, and behind marble desks — silence rang like a bullet through the soul.
Because while the assassin had fallen, a message had risen.
It appeared first in the internal servers of Seo-Yul Media Corp — not the public ones, but the deep restricted net, buried behind encrypted walls and artificial firewalls.
Then, within an hour, it surfaced again.
In the inbox of a Syndicate broker in Russia.
On the locked screen of a cartel-linked CEO in Colombia.
On a shattered phone inside the pocket of a burned informant in Seoul.
Even in the encrypted network of the "Circle of Six."
No signature.
No name.
Just a red pulsing icon — the mark left behind on every corpse Gin Chan had touched.
When they opened the file, it began with static.
Then — his voice.
Low. Clear. Measured. Worn.
---
> "You thought this would end with my fall."
> "You thought killing me would silence the truth."
> "But you forgot what I really am."
"I am the consequence of secrets… and the cost of silence."
> "You wear power like skin — tight, polished, beautiful. But I see what lies beneath. I've torn it back. And I'm not the only one who has seen."
> "You called yourself veiled. But every veil burns when the fire is patient enough."
> "You sent ghosts. You made puppets. You wrote your script and controlled your stage."
> "But what happens when someone rewrites the ending?"
---
The voice stopped.
A heartbeat of silence.
Then, on every screen, in blood-red letters:
---
> "THREADS DON'T DIE."
"THEY PULL."
"AND THE VEILED ONE BLEEDS NEXT."
---
After that, nothing.
The file deleted itself.
All backups — corrupted.
All traces — scrubbed as if erased by hands from within.
But the fear remained.
For Kang Seo-Yul.
For the Circle of Six.
For everyone who had ever whispered a command behind a closed door.
Because if Gin Chan had fallen,
Then what had he left behind?
And who else now held the other end of the thread?
---
Perfect. Let's build the chapter beats for Chapter 19: Beyond the Veil — this chapter begins Part 3: Retaliation Threads, and follows Gin Chan's public emergence as The Red Trace. It should raise the stakes significantly as we move closer to the heart of the Syndicate.
---
Gin finds himself back to the timeless realm with death waiting for him
"You have chosen to burn the veil. But fire consumes both light and shadow."
Gin whispered back
> "Then I'll burn the gods too."
---
.