A bad feeling with no name to it had brought a heat up, and the office window had been left open.

The building was old and worn and the glass had never kept sound out to begin with.

So you could tell most of what was going on at the first-floor entrance by sound alone.

Up on the third floor Ri Seongcheol and Choe Yeonghui had been shaking with nerves. Neither of them had to say it first. Both went the color of ash.

He's here!!

At the door!!

Ri Seongcheol's men were posted outside the building around the clock.

The man in the black helmet, the one they'd taken for a passerby, brought his motorcycle to a stop in front of the building.

An old black motorcycle helmet. The inner visor was down, so there was no making out the face.

A black jacket. Black pants. Old sneakers worn through at the toe.

He wasn't tall, either. An ordinary motorcycle delivery rider, the kind you see all over the streets of Chinatown.

"What do you want?"

One of the men on the door jerked his chin at him.

"Kim Cheolsu? That your name?"

Another of them, squatting off to the side with a cigarette, laughed out loud.

"You here to borrow money at this hour?"

"If it's a delivery, set it down and go."

The men knew nothing, and they wrote the figure in front of them off as a delivery rider come to beg a loan.

He wasn't big, and he had nothing in his hands.

Not one of them was on his guard.

Just some nuisance turning up late at night.

Tramp!

Kim Cheolsu walked at the entrance in long strides. And he was inside the building before they could blink.

Click!

The madman barred the steel door behind him.

"Hey!"

The man standing nearest had been gaping at him, and he took a step forward with nothing in him that was ready.

"Where do you think you are, crawling in here?"

Kim Cheolsu kept his mouth shut and gave nothing back.

Through the black inner visor…