Marina Bay Sands Hotel, Singapore.
Dennis was still staying in Singapore.
Because rumors about Phantom Grid had spread, people who wanted to buy it kept coming to him.
But the conditions they offered were far different from what Dennis had in mind.
They offered hardly any money, yet their demands were endless.
Control rights, of course, but also shares and blueprints.
It was as if every bastard under the sun had gathered.
To the point where the ten million dollars Parallax had offered now felt reasonable.
"Ah~~ I'm sick of it. I want to go back. I want to go sprawl out."
Dennis cried out as he collapsed onto the bed in the empty hotel room.
The ceiling was familiar.
Having taken care of dinner with room service,
he took a beer from the refrigerator.
Right now, this beer was his only pleasure.
Fshhh.
He cracked the can and took a swig.
Carbonation assaulted his throat.
"Kya. That's the stuff."
San Miguel beer.
The most famous beer in the Philippines.
There were countless beers in Singapore's markets,
many of them more expensive and refined than San Miguel, but
Dennis always drank only San Miguel.
When he drank San Miguel while looking at the sea,
Singapore felt a little like Zamboanga.
It was similar to the San Miguel he had drunk while looking at the sea in Zamboanga.
The San Miguel he had drunk in front of the sea with his colleagues after work was done.
So he always kept San Miguel on hand.
When the day's work was done, he would drink his beer while gazing at the sea.
To Dennis, alone, it was his only friend.
As Dennis drank his beer, gazing out the window, a strange sight caught his eye.
An unusual number of black vans stood out.
Not a sight he would normally see.
'Is there an event?'
If they were event prep vehicles, he could understand.
But even if there were an event, there was no reason to park black vans like that in front of the hotel.
Shouldn't they go down to the parking lot?
Using the elevator connected to the parking lot would make preparation much easier.
Besides, now wasn't a suitable time to hold an event.
A slightly uncomfortable feeling arose.
Perhaps because he was looking around with that in mind,
he spotted many differences from the usual.
Hard to explain in words, but he felt a sense of dissonance.
The helipad lights blinking nearby having gone out, for one.
The Marina harbor having closed early, among other things.
Minor, but not something he could simply overlook.
The feeling was bad.
'Could it be Gavin?'
No.
Gavin wouldn't do it like this.
He had confirmed Gavin's final gaze.
He had given up in the end.
Then?
No way?
Could Gavin have already been taken care of?
Was this the doing of the Chairman of Parallax?
'Impatient bastard.'
Dennis made a playful expression.
It wasn't even certain that someone would attack.
It might be an illusion born from Dennis's sensitivity.
But in this line of work, overreaction was the basics.
Even for the smallest risk, great preparations were necessary.
Just in case, he deleted his laptop's data.
He factory reset his phone as well.
He had to make sure no information could be found even if they fell into enemy hands.
He initialized the data multiple times, overwrote it, encrypted it, and removed the keys.
As if that weren't enough, he put them in the microwave and ran it.
It might be unnecessary,
but better than being in danger.
This was a bit troublesome, but
laptops and phones could be replaced,
but if he didn't do this, the people in Zamboanga could be put in danger.
If he brushed it off because it was a bit annoying, the damage would reach Zamboanga.
So he had to make sure data couldn't be found anywhere.
He had considered escaping the hotel,
but that seemed impossible.
If these bastards had come with determination, there would be no hole to escape through.
They would have sealed everything tight.
Or they would be guarding right in front.
If he opened that thin door, agents would be standing there.
So what Dennis had to do now was not prepare to run.
It was to prepare for an attack that might possibly come,
and to process his belongings so that no data whatsoever would come out of them.
Even as Dennis microwaved his smartphone, he hoped this was just his own useless anxiety.
But as time passed, Dennis's thoughts seemed to be right.
Should he say the air was different?
The atmosphere was bad.
21:57.
The TV that had been working fine cut out.
A 'No Signal' message appeared.
Dennis smiled.
'I was right.'
He was glad he had prepared in advance.
He went to stand before the large window.
For the last time, he drank San Miguel while looking at the sea of Singapore.
He thought of the people in Zamboanga.
Friends who had smuggled weapons under Jericho since childhood.
Colleagues he had spent much time with.
And CEO Alex.
Under Jericho, he had been exploited, and it was CEO Alex who had made him a smuggler.
He had much to be grateful to CEO Alex for,
but felt sorry he hadn't been able to repay him.
Finally, Sin Junggi.
He had wanted to help, but couldn't.
He was still someone who needed a lot of help...
22:00 sharp.
The hotel's power went out.
The lights went out, and the room door was forced open.
Through the gap, people in black counter-terrorism suits poured in like a flood.
'Bastards sure came in numbers.'
Looking at them, he calculated.
Could he survive here?
Could he get out alive?
If caught here, he would suffer terrible torture.
They would torment him until he told them the main base, the location of Phantom Grid.
He would probably experience pain he had never felt in his life.
Of course, he was confident he wouldn't tell them the main base.
But even by mistake,
he didn't want to be caught in their wordplay and give even the smallest hint.
It didn't seem like these bastards would let him live even if he told them the main base.
And above all.
If our Boss found out he was caught, he would absolutely not stay still.
That was scarier.
He couldn't even imagine how that man would act.
It might be fun to watch, but he didn't want to become a burden.
He didn't want to cause any harm to those he loved.
To this extent, it had been a happy and enjoyable life.
A life where he could laugh with good people.
Dennis looked once at the pistol in his right hand.
And without hesitation brought it beneath his chin.
Bang!
With a short sound, Dennis collapsed.
Blood spread across the carpet.
'Junggi-ya. I'll buy you that iced chocolate next time. Not just for a month, but for life.'
A faint smile remained on the fallen Dennis's face.
*******
22:00 sharp.
Power was cut, and the corridor sank into darkness.
"Breach."
Mateo commanded in a low voice.
The sound of the door lock disengaging rang out, and agents in black counter-terror gear reflexively poured inside.
"Left. Clear."
"Right. Clear."
"Living room. Clear."
Bang!
A gunshot rang from the bedroom.
Mateo headed to the bedroom directly.
Dennis was down.
The gun was still in his hand,
and flowing blood was soaking his shirt.
Mateo, confirming there was no movement, checked personally.
The body was still warm, but there was no breath.
"Target deceased."
A brief silence passed.
On the bedside table sat the San Miguel Dennis had left half-drunk.
Outside the window, the lights of Marina Bay still sparkled.
"Laptop secured."
An agent picked up the laptop.
"The data?"
"Fully encrypted, keys destroyed. Appears unrecoverable."
"The phone?"
"The phone is also physically damaged. Unrecoverable."
Mateo exhaled shortly.
"Quick calculations."
Mateo checked the time.
22:03.
Three minutes since operation start.
Arrest failed.
Data acquisition failed.
Mateo picked up his radio.
"Connect to HQ."
A moment later, Adrian's voice came through.
"Report."
"Target committed suicide. Fired just before entry. Confirmed dead."
Mateo delivered the situation clearly.
But from across the radio, there was no sound.
"The data?"
"All destroyed. Unrecoverable."
"Then what did we gain?"
"..."
A brief silence passed, and Adrian's voice was heard.
"Change targets. Developer, Phantom Grid. Bring me anything."
"Understood."
Communication was cut.
Mateo looked around the room once more.
Fallen Dennis.
A half-empty can of beer.
Lights turned off.
And beyond the window, the splendid Marina Bay was visible.
"Withdraw."
The team quietly withdrew.
Power came back on, communications resumed, and the elevator started running.
Silence descended upon the corridor once more.
Nothing had changed.
Except that Dennis was gone, nothing had changed.
*******
I lay in bed to sleep.
My body was tired, but sleep wouldn't come.
I put on Netflix, looked at my phone, closed my eyes, and tried to sleep.
How long had I tossed and turned in bed?
"Boss."
I heard Scott calling me.
"Yeah. Come in..."
But Scott opened the door and came in before I could even answer.
He usually joked around, and was slightly rude, but he never crossed the line.
Why was he doing this?
This wasn't right.
What did he think I was doing, barging in like that?
I was about to say something, but
Scott's face was a sight to behold.
What?
What's going on?
Did you get dumped?
He wore a face that looked ready to crumble at any moment.
"What? What's going on?"
At my question, Scott shed tears instead of answering.
It was an extremely surreal scene.
Scott, shedding tears.
My heart began to throb unpleasantly.
"Boss... D.. Dennis is dead."
The moment I heard those words, my body seemed to go numb.
My mind blanked at the unexpected news.
Only a buzzing sound rang in my ears.
The air in the room seemed to have all escaped, as if turned into a vacuum.
I couldn't even breathe.
I simply stopped.
Too real to be a joke, I felt Scott's hot tears directly.
His shoulders trembled faintly.
"...Where?"
I barely parted my lips.
I heard an unfamiliar voice that didn't seem like my own.
"It's Singapore. He was found in the hotel. Cause of death is suicide."
Suicide.
Dennis?
Dennis was absolutely not someone who would take his own life.
He had either been attacked by someone, or there were unavoidable circumstances.
My loosely clenched hand was damp.
Seems I had broken out in a cold sweat.
"Who went?"
"Simon is on standby to depart. And Sin Junggi and Sandro also said they would leave separately."
I forcibly turned my unworking head.
I wondered if it was right for Simon, Sin Junggi, and Sandro to go right now.
I shook my head.
It was better for me to go than them.
"Tell them I'm going. Tell everyone to standby. Tell them no one is to move. Absolutely. Absolutely! Understood?"
I spoke rather strongly.
My voice grew rough.
Though my mind wasn't there, this was certain.
We had to unify as one.
We couldn't move separately.
Right now, it was right for me to go.
Figuring out the situation came first.
If many people went around stirring things up for no reason, that would stand out more.
I had to go directly to confirm why Dennis had made such a choice.
Right now, it was right for me to go.
"Prepare the private jet. So that it can take off within 20 minutes."
"Yes. I'll prepare immediately."
Scott also seemed to have regained some composure.
Perhaps because he had received orders and had something to do, he went out with a somewhat changed expression.
The room went quiet again.
I checked the items in my inventory.
Weapons were sufficient.
The container used during the Japanese harbor explosion still remained.
This was not a time to move based on emotion.
However, if there was injustice in Dennis's death,
I would go to the end.
If something had to be broken, I'd break it.
If something had to be destroyed, I'd destroy it.
Those blocking the way,
those scheming from behind,
and those hiding and watching—none were exceptions.
That was the only comfort I could give Dennis.
.
.
.
Though it was late, Sin Junggi remained in his workshop.
Several monitors displayed code and simulation results.
Phantom Grid 2.0
It was nearly complete.
If version 1.0 had focused on paradigm shift,
2.0 had increased range and speed.
The simulation finished, and [success] appeared on the monitor.
Success.
Sin Junggi leaned back in his chair and looked out the window.
A slight smile formed.
If Dennis saw this, how much praise would he come and shower on him again?
He'd tell obvious, transparent lies, wouldn't he?
It was obvious.
"Wow~ really?"
"You made this?"
"Really amazing? How did you make this?"
"I really couldn't have even imagined this."
"You really seem amazing."
They were obvious words, but
he had somewhat looked forward to them.
Then the door opened.
Without a knock.
It was Dennis's longtime colleague.
His face was severely hardened.
"Dennis was found as a corpse at a hotel in Singapore."
"Huh?"
But Sin Junggi's hand stopped.
He thought he had misheard.
"Dennis is dead."
It was a short sentence, but
the atmosphere changed.
"What are you talking about. Why would Dennis die."
Sin Junggi responded lightly, as if it were nothing.
Sin Junggi didn't believe those words.
Because it shouldn't be.
Dennis shouldn't die.
Such a thing shouldn't happen.
"I just got word. He was found dead in his hotel room."
He heard the words, but Sin Junggi couldn't believe them.
No, he refused to believe them.
The smile remaining at the corners of his mouth disappeared.
The muscles of his face hardened.
Emotions erased,
his gaze turned cold.
The psychopath, Sin Junggi, had returned.