Tuesday.

Waking up at dawn, Kang Chan left the house, much like he always did. The brisk air of morning break was already hinting at autumn.

“Whew.”

He stretched his muscles, which had stiffened overnight. While pulling his right arm with his left and pretending to twist his body, he scanned his surroundings.

Someone was observing him.

He only saw a few people heading to work early, but no one seemed particularly suspicious.

‘I can’t even exercise comfortably because of this son of a bitch.’

He didn’t want to skip his workout, though.

After examining his surroundings a few more times, he warily left the apartment complex. However, the unpleasant feeling made it difficult to focus on running.

Running defenselessly despite knowing someone was out for you was as foolish as jogging in the middle of a battlefield.

Kang Chan slowed down to a walk after running a kilometer.

Choi Jong-Il was somewhere out there, but agents could eliminate him in one strike. Moreover, in this situation, ground-to-air missiles were already being brought into play. His gut feeling meant shit if the game were to end with a single bullet.

He frowned and let out a deep breath. That was enough of his workout for now.

‘I’m using the sidewalk, so I probably won’t get hit by a car.’

However, just as he turned toward the apartment complex’s entrance… Vrrrrrrrroom. He whipped around at the harsh engine noise, finding a motorcycle sweeping past him.

‘So that’s the punk.’

It was all his gut.

These kinds of things took place during combat too. Enemies opened fire without any specific target, but their purpose wasn’t to kill the opponent....