After the exchange concluded, Alhaitham did not linger. He got into the car arranged by the research institute, intending to return directly to the hotel.
Along the way, he quietly watched the scenery pass by outside the window. Then, without warning, he turned his head and said to the driver,
"This isn't the way back to the hotel."
Driver: "It's a shortcut—only locals know it."
"Oh."
Alhaitham replied casually, as if he had accepted the explanation.
The driver relaxed slightly. In the next instant, a hand shot out from behind, seized his hair, and slammed his head hard against the window. His vision went black as he lost consciousness.
Alhaitham immediately hauled the driver up and tossed him into the front passenger seat. One hand steadied the steering wheel while the other carried him forward, smoothly shifting from the back seat into the driver's seat.
The entire sequence was completed in under ten seconds. The car swerved briefly from side to side before stabilizing and continuing forward.
Alhaitham recalled the route and was just about to turn right—
When suddenly, a car surged up from behind and rammed into the rear bumper.
"Tch. Missed the turn."
At the same time, two more cars closed in from the left and right, gradually boxing him in.
The windows of both cars rolled down. Two guns extended outward, aiming directly at Alhaitham, fingers poised to fire.
He didn't seem to care. Slamming down on the accelerator, he shot forward. The bullets all struck the rear half of the car.
Seeing they'd missed their target, the peripheral operatives shifted their aim, preparing to blow out the tires instead.
Bang—
The car jolted violently. Control over the steering weakened, but Alhaitham remained calm. He slightly reduced speed, then twisted the wheel sharply, ramming straight into the car on his right.
The impact caught the driver completely off guard. Combined with the sudden deployment of the airbag, the driver was knocked unconscious on the spot.
"Two left."
Alhaitham brought the nearly wrecked car to a stop and exited swiftly from the rear. Using the vehicle as cover, he activated Light of Foliar Incision, striking the tire of the car on the left and forcing it to a halt.
Three cars now sat motionless, blocking the road entirely. The final car behind had no choice but to stop as well.
The two remaining drivers stepped out cautiously, guns in hand.
Alhaitham appeared behind the driver of the left car in an instant. A sharp side kick sent the man flying several meters, crashing to the ground and unable to move.
The rear driver reacted immediately and opened fire. Alhaitham twisted aside, dodging several bullets, then closed the distance at blinding speed. Grabbing the man by the hair, he slammed his head straight into the pavement.
Blood spilled instantly. The man collapsed, unconscious.
Alhaitham glanced over the road conditions. Ignoring the bodies on the ground, he repositioned the wrecked cars just enough to clear a single parking space. Then he entered the only car still barely functional and drove away.
Several minutes later, a Porsche 356A arrived at the scene.
Gin stepped out, surveyed the traces left behind, and let out a cold chuckle.
"Hmph. A bunch of trash."
He moved forward, carefully examining the bullet marks. It wasn't hard to deduce that these peripheral operatives had failed to hit an unarmed target despite being fully armed. Calling them useless was being generous—they were worse than useless.
Raising the Beretta in his hand, Gin aimed at their heads. Ignoring the terror in their eyes, he executed them cleanly and without hesitation.
Vodka: "Boss?"
Gin: "Have someone clean this up."
Vodka replied immediately, "Yes."
Gin turned to head back to the car—then paused. Something at the edge of his vision felt wrong.
He turned his head.
A tire.
Crouching down, Gin examined it closely. The rubber had been sliced open by something sharp. No blade was left behind. Judging from the cut's angle, it had been slashed while the vehicle was moving—likely by a short, knife-like projectile—rendering the tire completely unusable.
Vodka followed his gaze but could only see a damaged tire.
"Boss, what about it?"
Interest flickered in Gin's eyes. He didn't bother scolding Vodka's ignorance and explained instead:
"This was cut during motion. In other words, someone landed a blade strike on a moving tire. That takes exceptional eyesight and control."
This was getting more and more interesting.
"Though he's a bit soft-hearted," Gin added coldly. "Didn't even silence a single one."
As for Alhaitham—he didn't concern himself with what happened afterward at all.
He drove to the outskirts of the city, abandoned the car by the roadside, avoided surveillance cameras, walked a short distance, then hailed a taxi back to the hotel.
The next day, after finishing his meal, Alhaitham returned to his hotel room.
The moment he stepped inside, he sensed another presence.
From a concealed spot, he drew his weapon—Light of Foliar Incision—and advanced slowly. Turning the corner, he saw Vodka, gun raised and aimed directly at him.
Alhaitham swung his sword horizontally without hesitation.
Vodka barely had time to react as the blade flashed before his eyes—
His collar tightened.
Gin yanked Vodka backward by the collar. At the same time, he raised a silenced pistol with his other hand and fired two shots at Alhaitham, forcing him to retreat and opening distance between them.
Alhaitham stepped back, narrowly avoiding the bullets. Judging the distance, he hurled his weapon toward Gin. Then, exploiting the opening, he rushed behind him, caught the deflected Light of Foliar Incision, and brought it down toward Gin.
In that instant, Gin spun around, muzzle aimed squarely at Alhaitham's head.
Alhaitham's blade stopped at Gin's throat.
Even with death inches away, neither man's expression changed.
Gin spoke first.
"Care to see whether my gun's faster—or your blade?"
Alhaitham pressed the sword closer to Gin's neck.
"I don't mind finding out."
"..."
Alhaitham continued calmly,
"I'm curious—why target me at all? I'm just a frail academic. Even if I noticed the surveillance, there's nothing I could've done."
"A frail academic?"
Gin sounded genuinely amused. He gestured toward the weapon in Alhaitham's hand.
"A frail academic who carries a blade?"
"This is merely a necessary means of self-defense."
"..."