Kuroiwa Estate — Study Room
Inside the elegant, dimly lit study, three men sat around a table: Kuroiwa Tatsushi, Kawashima Hideo, and Nishimoto Ken — long-time heads of the island's smuggling ring.
"This business has been going on for more than twenty years," Kuroiwa said, slowly pouring himself a glass of red wine. "We've made enough to last two lifetimes. It's about time we called it quits."
"I agree," Kawashima said with a nod. "Smuggling's profitable, sure… but it's a dirty business. Can't show your face in the sun."
Kuroiwa swirled his glass, sighing. "And what's the point of more money anyway? We still have to pay off certain people just to stay safe."
"Without those protection payments, we wouldn't have lasted this long."
He took a sip of wine, then frowned slightly. "Lately, I don't know why, but I haven't been sleeping well."
His eyes drifted toward Nishimoto, who sat slumped in his chair, nervously gulping down drink after drink.
"I don't want to end up like him—paranoid, twitchy, seeing ghosts everywhere."
Nishimoto said nothing. He just drank harder, his face pale and sweaty.
Kuroiwa gave a dry chuckle. "Anyway, I've decided. Once this shipment's gone, I'm done. I'll clean the money, go legit. Open a respectable business. Enjoy the rest of my life in peace—"
He didn't get to finish.
BOOM!
A deafening explosion shook the building.
Kuroiwa flinched, his wine glass nearly slipping from his hand. He rushed to the window and looked toward the mountain. Flashes of orange light flickered against the night sky.
"That direction…" His eyes narrowed. "That's the villa—the one storing the goods!"
Kawashima strode up beside him, face dark. "What the hell is happening out there?"
Before Kuroiwa could answer, rapid knocking came from the study door.
"Come in!" he barked.
The door opened, and their secretary, Hirata, stumbled inside, his face pale.
"Boss—it's bad! Someone's attacked the villa! He's armed like a damn movie soldier—carrying a rocket launcher! Our men can't stop him!"
Kuroiwa froze. "A rocket launcher?!"
Even he couldn't hide his shock.
He slammed his glass down. "Then send reinforcements! I don't care who he is—he's just one man! Surround him from both sides!"
"Yes, sir!" Hirata said quickly, pulling out his phone to call for backup.
Within minutes, five off-road vehicles roared out of the estate gates, headlights cutting through the dark as they sped toward the villa.
And then—
BOOOOOOM!
A massive explosion ripped through the night.
The earth trembled. All five vehicles were blown sky-high, erupting into fireballs that spun through the air like flaming meteors.
None of the men inside had their seatbelts on. Bodies were thrown in every direction—twisting, tumbling, helpless—before crashing back down among the burning wrecks.
The jeeps smashed into the ground with thunderous crashes, each one engulfed in flame. Thick black smoke billowed upward, staining the night.
Kuroiwa and the others watched from the window, their faces draining of color.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
But these men weren't amateurs. They'd killed, burned, and bribed their way through life for decades. After the first shock faded, Kuroiwa clenched his jaw, anger flooding back in.
He turned on Hirata, eyes blazing. "You idiot! Someone brought weapons onto this island, and you didn't even notice?! What the hell are you being paid for?!"
"I—I'm sorry, boss!" Hirata stammered, bowing low. "It's my fault. I didn't think anyone could smuggle in something that heavy. A pistol, maybe—but a rocket launcher? Bombs?!"
Kuroiwa slammed his fist against the desk. "Damn it! Who's the fool that thinks they can mess with me?!"
Still, beneath the fury, he wasn't afraid.
He owned Tsukikage Island. For over twenty years, the people here had lived off his payroll. Half the villagers were under his thumb.
To challenge him here—on his own turf—was suicide.
"Send some men to check the situation—no, wait!" he snapped suddenly. "That's exactly what they want. They're baiting us out."
He paused, thinking fast. "Get the townspeople. Arm them. I want everyone on this island with a gun heading up here!"
Hirata nodded frantically and started making the calls.
Outside Kuroiwa Manor
Down by the road, Asai Narumi watched the five burning vehicles from afar, gripping the detonator in her trembling hands.
Her breath came fast. Her heart pounded so hard it hurt.
It was her first time killing anyone—no, so many at once.
The fear was real… but so was the rush. A wild, intoxicating thrill burned through her chest.
Father… you see this, right?
I'm avenging you!
All those years of hiding, of changing her name, her very identity—tonight, it was all finally worth it.
For a moment, she almost broke into a manic laugh. She wanted to storm the mansion herself and spray every last one of those men with bullets.
But she forced herself to stop.Not yet.
Charging in now would be suicide. She had to wait—for Azuma.
As she crouched in the darkness, she noticed movement below.
Her expression changed. People were climbing up from the village. Dozens of them.
When she focused on their faces, her heart sank.
They weren't soldiers or gangsters. They were locals.
People she'd grown up with. Her neighbors. Some she even remembered from childhood.
And every one of them was carrying a gun.
Narumi's stomach turned cold. She understood instantly—Kuroiwa was sending the townspeople to die for him.
Her hands shook on the detonator. She couldn't do it. She couldn't blow them up.
So she hid deeper in the shadows and waited for Ren Kuroda to arrive.
At the Ruined Villa
Meanwhile, Ren Kuroda advanced through the flames like a walking apocalypse.
Every time he saw movement—boom. Another rocket.
Against high-explosive shells, fancy tactics, quick reflexes, body armor, or cover meant nothing.
Before absolute firepower, everyone was equal.
The air was thick with smoke and heat. The ground trembled from each blast. The launcher's barrels glowed red-hot from overuse.
Ren tossed the spent weapon aside, grabbing another from his system storage—he'd prepared plenty.
By now, the once-luxurious villa was unrecognizable. Entire sections had collapsed; fire devoured what was left.
Ren stood in the middle of the destruction, smoke swirling around him, and shouted, "Anyone else?!"
Only the crackle of flames answered.
He wasn't fooled. Someone always survived.
He swept through the wreckage, searching—and finally spotted a man in a suit cowering behind a half-fallen wall.
Before Ren could say a word, the man threw up his hands, face pale. "Don't shoot! Please! I know where the money is! I'll take you there—just spare me!"
Ren smirked. "See? You can be reasonable. Take me to it, and maybe you walk away."