chapter 1

15th October, 20XX

Kang Industrial Head Office – Osaka, Japan

Time: 19:47 JST

Sirens wailed in the distance, but they were too late to matter.

The streets below Kang Industrial’s monolithic headquarters had already been evacuated. Every light in the thirty-story glass tower flickered under emergency lockdown. Shadows moved like ghosts across floors. The building was surrounded on all sides by sleek, black vehicles with tinted windows—unmarked, fast, and lethal.

These were JINX operatives.

And when JINX showed up, things didn’t go back to normal.

“AAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!”

A scream echoed through the corridors—a woman in a torn pencil skirt bolted from the smoke-choked stairwell, only to be yanked back by one of her co-workers. Fire alarms blared. Bullets had already pierced the security glass on the 27th floor. Red strobes lit the air like the building was bleeding from within.

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

Gunshots punched through the tension. Somewhere above, a ventilation shaft collapsed with a metallic CRASH.

On the 29th floor, Agent Widow, tall, buzzcut, dressed in combat black with a glowing blue patch on her chest that read JINX, snarled into her comms.

“They’re on the rooftop! Repeat: suspects are on the rooftop!”

She ducked behind an overturned desk, glass in her arm and fury in her eyes.

“Once that helicopter lifts, we lose the package. Everything.”

Another agent beside her, blood on his cheek and rifle shaking slightly, looked up with wide eyes.

“Ma’am…we won’t make it in time—”

Widow cut him off with a feral grin.

“Relax. Scarlet’s already up there.”

Thwip-thwip-thwip-thwip-thwip—

The heavy thrums of chopper blades sliced through the Osaka skyline, scattering loose documents and ash. The rooftop was chaos incarnate: steel cases, shredded USB drives, bags of currency—all being hauled into a matte black helicopter by men in bulletproof suits.

In the center of it all stood Theo Andersson—CEO of Kang Industrial, informant, criminal, and bio-weapons trafficker.

Sweat rolled down his temple as he barked orders.

“Take everything! Blueprints, flash drives—don’t leave even a paperclip behind!”

He shoved a suitcase into a guard’s arms and turned toward the chopper.

“We don’t have time—GO!”

But then...

The air shifted.

Something in his instincts screamed.

His head snapped upward—and there, just above, hovering like a mechanical specter, was another helicopter. Sleeker. Quieter. Military-grade.

And on the skids, crouched like a panther with his sniper aimed directly between Theo’s eyes, was him.

 SCARLET.

Black tactical suit hugging every inch of his lithe body.

Red-tinted visor reflecting Theo’s panicked face.

An MSR sniper rifle in his hands, modified—silent, deadly, precise.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Three of Theo’s guards dropped in one synchronized breath—skulls cracking against the rooftop, blood painting the steel floor in wide arcs.

Scarlet leapt from the chopper, landing in a graceful crouch. His body moved like liquid precision—every step calculated, every breath controlled.

One guard ran at him, knife out.

Scarlet didn’t even flinch.

CRACK.

He spun, a flawless roundhouse kick connecting with the man’s face—teeth flew. The guard collapsed, twitching, jaw hanging loose.

Another turned his rifle—but Scarlet fired first.

A silenced shot popped through the air and shattered the man’s femur. He dropped screaming.

Theo panicked, reaching for a small handgun hidden in his jacket.

Bang.

Scarlet shot first. The bullet tore through Theo’s wrist—clean exit.

The gun clattered across the rooftop.

“Ugh—fuck!!” Theo screamed, clutching his bleeding hand.

Scarlet walked forward slowly, eyes behind the visor glowing with cold calculation.

“Mr. Theo Andersson.”

“You’re aware that what you’re carrying doesn’t just belong to you, yes?”

Theo stumbled back, his breath hitching.

Scarlet’s voice was smooth, cold, and far too calm for someone who just body-dropped five people.

He holstered the sniper and cracked his neck.

“That code you’re trying to steal? More than one nation would kill you for it. We’re just the lucky ones who got here first.”

Theo gritted his teeth.

“What the hell are you? Some Russian asset? Mercenary?”

Scarlet smirked.

And then—he reached up slowly and pulled off his visor, revealing sharp, pale eyes, a single black piercing on his brow, and lips curled into a smile that did not match the violence he just unleashed.

“No. None of the above.”

“Ever heard of JINX?”

Silence.

Even the helicopter seemed to hesitate in the sky.

Scarlet stepped forward into the light, wind whipping his coat back.

A small tattoo glimmered on his collarbone, visible now under his open neckline: the JINX insignia — a black jackal swallowing a star.

Theo swallowed hard.

Scarlet tilted his head.

“If you cooperate with us, we’ll guarantee your survival. Well…”

“As much of you as we can carry in one body bag.”

The helicopter was gone now—just a whisper in the distance, carrying Theo Andersson bound, bruised, and bleeding.

The mission was over.

All that remained on the rooftop was chaos and wind.

Spent bullet casings glittered across the concrete like metallic flower petals. The horizon had started to bruise purple, the neon skyline of Osaka humming below like the city hadn’t just nearly been bombed.

Scarlet—codename.

Real name: Rin Takahashi-Kwon.

27. Recessive Alpha.

The "Ghost of JINX.”

He stood at the edge of the rooftop, muscles relaxed but eyes still scanning—always scanning. His sniper rifle was already disassembled, slung on his back. His all-black tactical jacket fluttered against his hips in the rooftop breeze. Everything about him was precise. Quiet. Contained.

He turned, handed the briefcase—the one they all bled to secure—to a junior agent without saying a word.

“Sir, this is…” the kid began.

Scarlet didn’t look back.

“Handle it properly. Deliver it to HQ. If even one document goes missing, I’ll know.”

He was already walking away, toward the stairwell—one hand adjusting the leather gloves over his fingers.

Because he had somewhere to be.

Not a club.

Not a debriefing.

Tokyo.

His mother’s birthday.

At the base of the building, parked near the emergency stair exit, was his motorbike—a matte black Yamaha YZF-R1 with blue chrome detailing and an anti-surveillance tech chip embedded in the dash. It purred like a beast when he climbed on it, one leg over, helmet in hand.

He was ready to vanish into the night.

But—

“Yo! Scarlet!”

A familiar voice echoed through the parking lot.

Scarlet sighed without turning.

Of course.

Agent Stone

—real name Kaito Fujiwara.

Dominant Alpha. Tall. Loud. Muscles sculpted like they came from a rejected Greek god prototype. Always grinning. Always too close. His combat vest was half-unzipped, dog tags clinking against his chest as he jogged over.

“Damn, way to go, Scarlet. You did great up there. Deadly and sexy, like always.”

“You ever get tired of being perfect, or do you just run on cold air and vengeance?”

Scarlet finally turned his head slightly, helmet under one arm.

“Hi, Stone.”

His voice was calm. Flat. But those eyes—cold silver-gray under dark lashes—pierced like bullets.

Stone leaned down a little, towering over him even with Scarlet on the bike.

“Come on, why the rush? Mission’s over, Osaka’s got good food, we could grab a drink—unwind. As teammates.”

He smirked, tongue pressing into his cheek, obviously hoping for one of Scarlet’s rare reactions.

Scarlet raised a single brow. His face unreadable, but the tension in his jaw screamed "I would rather be anywhere else."

“No.”

VROOOOM.

The bike engine rumbled to life. Scarlet pulled on his helmet in one clean motion, visor snapping shut. He didn’t even give Stone a second glance before pulling the throttle.

SCREEECH.

The bike peeled out of the lot in a flash of black and chrome, vanishing into the night.

Stone stood there blinking, then let out a long, exhausted groan.

“Damn. So difficult.”

“No wonder he’s still single…”

He stretched his arms, cracking his neck. Then clapped his hands once, loud enough to echo through the parking lot.

“Alright, people! Let’s wrap this up before the Osaka PD starts sniffing around! Someone sweep the roof! I’m not cleaning up after Scarlet’s body count again!”

Meanwhile, Scarlet took the highway at 160 km/h, slicing through the night like a shadow with purpose. His mind drifted—not to the blood, not to the briefcase, not even to the man whose fingers he shattered just thirty minutes ago.

But to something softer.

His mother’s smile.

The smell of her cooking.

His little brother Yuta’s sleepy voice saying “Onii-chan…” through a cracked door.

For all his precision, Scarlet didn’t carry trophies from missions.

He carried promises.

And this one was simple.

Get home before the candles are blown out.

The overhead speakers echoed softly across the bustling station, their robotic gentleness contrasting with the chaos below:

「親愛なる乗客の皆様、東京行き新幹線はまもなく出発します…」

(Dear passengers, the Shinkansen bound for Tokyo will be departing shortly...)

Scarlet adjusted the strap of his worn black duffel bag over his shoulder, one earbud in, the other dangling near the zipper of his jacket. His face was calm, unreadable, a little flushed from the cold. The high collar of his dark coat brushed his jaw. Even in plain clothes, he didn’t blend in. People noticed him. The way he moved. The way he looked at things like he was calculating every single angle in his head.

He stepped into the train, found his seat, and dropped into it like he’d been carrying the weight of a dying god on his back.

“Fucking finally.”

He slouched back, legs spread a little too wide, arms crossed over his chest. His body language said: Don’t talk to me. Don’t sit near me. I’m two hours from strangling someone with a vending machine cord.

Just as the doors hissed shut, his personal phone buzzed in his pocket.

He took it out.

Yuta.

Video call.

The name glowed like sunshine. Scarlet’s whole face changed.

“お兄ちゃん!"

“Onii-chan!”

The voice was full of light. Yuta, his younger brother, practically bouncing on the screen in his oversized hoodie, grinning like a puppy who had too much sugar for breakfast.

Scarlet smiled—a real one this time. That soft, rare one where his eyes warmed, and his usually sharp mouth relaxed.

“ユウタ、おはよう。”

“Yuta, good morning.”

Suddenly, another face joined the call—his mother. She leaned into the frame, her hair wrapped in a floral scarf, eyes tired but warm.

“お兄ちゃん、誕生日の準備できたわよ〜”

“Onii-chan, we’ve started getting ready for the birthday!”

Scarlet chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“お母さん、お誕生日おめでとうございます。すぐに東京に着くから。”

“Happy birthday, Mom. I’ll be in Tokyo very soon.”

Yuta bounced again.

“迎えに行こうか？”

“Should I come pick you up?”

Scarlet shook his head.

“いいよ。タクシーに乗るから。ゆっくりして。”

“No need. I’ll just take a taxi. You two relax.”

His mother made that tsk-tsk sound Korean moms always made when their children were being "too humble."

“ちゃんと食べた？顔色悪いわよ。”

“Did you eat properly? You look pale.”

“食べたよ。任務が少し大変だったけど。”

“I did. The mission was just a little intense.”

They said goodbye. Scarlet hung up. His smile faded, gently. He leaned his head against the window as the train began to pull away. The world outside blurred into concrete and speed.

“Haaah… finally.”

“I can sleep for an hour or two before I get there. Shower. Eat. Breathe. Hug them.”

“Just exist as a son. Not as Scarlet. Not as JINX’s tool.”

His lashes fluttered shut. Warmth pooled behind his eyes.

And then—

RIIIIIIIIIING.

Different ringtone.

Shriller. Sharper.

Like a blade scraping glass.

Work phone.

Scarlet’s jaw tightened.

He didn’t open his eyes. Didn’t move.

“Ignore it. Ignore it. You’re off duty. The mission’s done. You earned this.”

“Ignore it. It’ll stop.”

It didn’t stop.

The train murmured with morning passengers. A baby cried somewhere. People whispered, rustling bags and coats.

“っくそ…”

“Fuck…” Scarlet muttered under his breath.

He snatched up the phone, didn’t even glance at the caller ID.

He knew.

“どこにいるんだ、スカーレット。”

“Where are you, Scarlet?”

“どこでもいいでしょ？何の用ですか、ボス。”

“What?? does it matter? What do you want, boss?”

His voice was low, biting.

“The mission went well. Everything was clean. So why are you calling me?”

The voice on the other end was Agent Director Soma, his superior at JINX.

“I know it went well. That’s why I need you to come to HQ. Let’s have a chat.”

Scarlet’s eye twitched.

“お願いですから、休ませてください。今日は母の誕生日なんです。”

“Please let me rest. It’s my mother’s birthday.”

“It’ll be quick. I promise not to keep you long.”

Scarlet exhaled. Hard.

“Sir. The train has already started. You want me to jump out mid-track?”

SSCRREEEEEEEEECHHHHHH.

The train jerked to a stop.

Passengers gasped.

The overhead speaker crackled to life:

「親愛なる乗客の皆様、技術的な問題のため、この列車は一時停車いたします…」

(Dear passengers, due to a technical issue, the train will be delayed momentarily…)

Scarlet sat up, mouth hanging open in disbelief.

“…なにそれ."

“…What the hell.”

His phone vibrated again.

“Get off.”

He whipped his head toward the window.

A black stealth helicopter was hovering above the tracks beyond the station fencing. He could see it. They sent a damn helicopter.

“What are you waiting for? Get down. The chopper’s here.”

Scarlet hung up with such violence it was a miracle the screen didn’t crack. He shoved the phone into his duffel bag like it was a cursed object.

“This is harassment. This is psychological warfare. This is why my therapist ghosted me.”

Passengers stared as he stood. He ignored them.

Tugged his coat back on. Threw his scarf around his neck like it was a noose.

“If I don’t get off, this train isn’t moving.”

He stepped down, boots hitting the platform with the weight of a thousand regrets.

As he walked toward the helicopter parked discreetly in a secure lot, he pulled out his personal phone again. He dialed home. It picked up in two rings.

“あ、もしもし？ママ。ごめんね、電車にちょっと問題があって…遅くなるかも。”

“Ah, hello? Mama. Sorry, there was a small issue with the train… I might be a little late.”

“大丈夫よ。気をつけて帰ってね。”

“That’s alright, sweetheart. Just come back safe.”

“うん。愛してる。”

“Yeah. Love you.”

He ended the call.

“If I die today…”

“I'm haunting every single one of those bastards at HQ.”

“And I'm pissing in Stone’s tea first.”

Breathed out.

And climbed into the chopper.

1:39 PM — JINX HQ, Tokyo Metropolitan Intelligence Complex

Director’s Wing

The helicopter blades slowed behind him, still whining faintly in Scarlet’s ears as he jumped down onto the HQ’s landing pad. His boots hit the ground with a muted thud—shoulders squared, jaw set, and heart completely not in it.

“I better get fucking cake for this.”

“Ah, Scarlet, there you are,” said JJ, one of the director’s lapdogs. He had that always-grinning face, too cheerful for a place like this.

Scarlet barely nodded.

“Please, this way.” JJ turned on his heel, briskly escorting him down the tiled corridors of JINX.

Scarlet’s eyes narrowed.

“Why the director’s wing? Why not debriefing like usual?”

His boots echoed as they walked past two layers of biometric locks and reinforced titanium doors.

“Deputy office…? The deputy’s office?”

JJ opened the door. “Come in, come in.”

Inside the room: Chief Deputy One sitting in a leather chair, expression unreadable, eyes like frozen steel. And next to him—Director Kim, legs crossed, half-smirking like a man who just remembered something funny and slightly evil.

“Ah, there you are.” Kim’s voice carried the usual silk-over-razor-blades tone. “I heard you completed the mission in Osaka.”

“Yes, it went well. I tried my best,” Scarlet replied, stiff, tone flat.

Kim raised an eyebrow and smirked wider. “No need to explain. You tried your best.”

Scarlet nodded—until Kim’s next words dropped like a trapdoor.

“But that’s not the reason I called you here.”

Scarlet stiffened.

“Here we go.”

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