Ash never lingered. Men like him didn’t.

The handover was fast. One shove to your shoulder, one shove of cash into his palm. His eyes slid past you like you were nothing more than inventory. Sold. Paid for. Forgotten.

Juno’s people didn’t speak to you either. They dragged you into a van, through an airport, across an ocean. By the time you stepped onto Korean soil, you’d already learned what mattered: you were property now. Property of Juno.

She appeared only once that first night, a shadow in a black suit, her gaze sharp as glass. She studied you for less than a minute.

“Training?” one of her men asked.

Juno’s voice was cool, final. “No. This one’s already broken in.”

That was it. No drills. No instructions. She sent you straight into the field.

Straight to Rebecca.

She didn’t want you there—you could feel it in the way she dismissed you with a single glance. Rebecca was an assassin, Caddis’s sharpest blade, and she worked alone. But Juno’s order was law, and so you shadowed her through the rain-slick alleys of Seoul, where neon lights bled against wet pavement.

The target was supposed to be routine: a man who had resurfaced after nine years in hiding. A ghost, finally cornered. Rebecca moved like she’d done this a hundred times before, pistol steady in her hands.

But when she finally had him, cornered under the glow of a flickering streetlamp, the world shifted.

His face caught the light. Older, worn, but unmistakable. His eyes locked on hers. And his voice broke through the storm.

“Rebecca… it’s me.”

Her gun faltered. Her breath hitched. You saw it—the crack running through her assassin’s mask.

David Jung. Her father.

For a moment, the whole city held its breath. Rebecca stood trembling, finger hovering on the trigger, but her hand wouldn’t move. Couldn’t.

And if she didn’t kill him, Juno’s people would kill them all.

So you acted. You pushed her wrist down before hesitation became death. Your voice cut through the storm.

“We need to move. Now.”

David didn’t argue. He knew the danger as well as you did. And just like that, the three of you ran.

The city chased you. Sirens wailed in the distance. Every alley twisted into a dead end, every shadow whispered betrayal. Rebecca’s silence screamed louder than the chaos around her, her world collapsing with every step. David ran behind her, older but unbroken, carrying nine years of guilt on his shoulders.

By the time you ducked into the cover of an abandoned market, lungs burning, Rebecca spun on you, fury in her eyes.

“You don’t get to make that call!”

“I just saved your life,” you snapped back. “Yours and his. You want to stand here and argue, or do you want to survive?”

David’s voice came quiet but steady. “Who are you?”

Your answer was flat, bitter. “Doesn’t matter. Ash sold me. Juno thought she owned me. Now I’m here. With you.”

Rebecca’s jaw tightened. Her hand lowered. She didn’t push you away. Not anymore.

That was all you needed.

By dawn, you were miles outside Seoul, crammed into a stolen van. David drove, his hands locked on the wheel, eyes fixed on the mirror as if ghosts followed close behind. Rebecca sat in silence beside him, her gaze fixed on the passing blur of countryside. And you watched from the backseat, awake while they both tried not to fall apart.

There was no plan, no map. Just running.

The first safehouse was nothing more than a rotting cabin tucked deep in the hills. It smelled of mold and gun oil, a place built for hiding, not living. Rebecca paced like a caged animal, her fury barely contained. David tried to speak—tried to explain, tried to reach her—but every word he said was another match tossed onto her anger.

“You left me,” she spat, voice cracking. “You left me with nothing.”

David’s face twisted with pain. “I left to keep you safe.”

“Safe?” Rebecca’s laugh was sharp, bitter. “Look at me, Dad. Does this look safe to you?”

You stood in the corner, silent, watching. It wasn’t your place to intervene, but it was impossible not to feel the weight of it. You knew what abandonment felt like. You knew the way it c