Three weeks.
That's how long it took before someone tried to take Jung Min's head off in the middle of a train station.
The bullet missed by an inch.
He didn't flinch. Just turned, raised his gun, and fired once.
The man who pulled the trigger dropped before he hit the ground.
Jung Min stepped over the body and kept walking.
Azari followed a few steps behind, hoodie up, bag slung across her shoulder. The relic stayed wrapped tight in cloth—she hadn't touched it since the motel. It still whispered sometimes.
But now, it only whispered to her.
They boarded the train heading south. No destination printed on the front. Just a blank screen and a conductor who didn't look up.
Perfect.
They sat near the back. Azari by the window. Jung Min facing the aisle.
"I thought we were going to find this Choir thing," she muttered, voice low.
"We are."
"This train go there?"
"No. But the man at the next stop does."
He didn't explain further.
Azari didn't ask again.
That was the rhythm now.
An hour later, the train rolled to a stop outside a shattered hillside town. Crows scattered. Fog thickened. The whole place looked like it was buried years ago and just got bored of staying dead.
Jung Min stepped off first.
A man was waiting by the platform.
Old. Wrinkled. Bald except for a tuft of white hair. Lean as a knife.
He wore no robe. No weapons. Just a pair of tinted glasses and a silver rosary wrapped around one hand like brass knuckles.
"Bullet Saint," the man said.
Jung Min nodded once.
"Elder Ryu."
Azari raised an eyebrow. "Wait. That's an elder?"
"He's the one who didn't stay on his knees."
Ryu looked at her. Looked at the relic.
"You brought that here?"
"No one else wanted it," Jung Min said.
Ryu sighed.
"Then you're already too late."
They walked through the fog together, down toward an old cathedral half-buried in moss and regret.
Inside, there were candles. And bones. And carvings of things that had wings, but no faces.
Ryu stopped before the altar.
"The Choir is moving. Three voices have already returned."
"Returned from where?" Azari asked.
"From silence."
Jung Min stepped forward.
"Names."
Ryu hesitated. Then:
"Baek Jihoon. Shin Mira. and... Father Jang Seok Jin."
Jung Min didn't move.
Didn't blink.
But something shifted in his jaw.
"That last one's dead."
"No," Ryu said. "He's preaching."
Azari looked between them.
"Who's that?"
Jung Min's voice was low.
"The only man I ever spared."
Ryu placed a worn map on the altar. Three black marks. Three ruins.
"You want to stop the Choir?" he said.
"Start with your mercy."
Jung Min stared at the map.
Three targets. Three kills. One I should've done years ago.
He holstered his gun. The relic pulsed once in Azari's bag.
Outside, thunder rolled.
The Choir had started its song.
And Jung Min was going to end it.
With lead.