The sky hung dark, pierced by jagged white lightning that briefly illuminated the abandoned "Futra" orphanage, as if unveiling its buried secrets. Howling winds carried cold rain, seeping through shattered windows, leaving behind the scent of dampness and decay. Once a sanctuary for orphans, this place had become a palace of shadows, its walls echoing with whispers of the past and betrayal.
A convoy of cars tore down the muddy road leading to the orphanage. At the forefront, a sleek black car, dark as night, carried Kiera Sol, the feared leader of the "Black Dragon" gang, a man dreaded across Korea's criminal underworld. His black coat fluttered in the wind like the wings of a regal raven, his eyes glinting with the sharpness of a blade and the coldness of ice, reflecting an endless darkness.
The cars halted before the rusted iron gate, their engines fading under the storm's roar. Kiera stepped out, his presence as commanding as death itself. His men followed—stone-faced fighters armed with guns and flashlights that defied the darkness. Raising his hand, Kiera's voice thundered, shaking the ground: "Find Susan, and eliminate anyone who stands in your way!"
His men scattered like wolves through the orphanage, their boots echoing on the rotting wooden floors. But Kiera headed straight for the basement, his steps heavy with the weight of childhood memories. Every corner held a fragment of the past—laughter, tears, betrayal. He paused at a dilapidated wooden door, pushing it open with a creak that seemed to echo the orphanage's pain. Inside, the basement was thick with darkness, faint light slipping through ceiling cracks, the air choked with the stench of mold and gunpowder.
"I know you're here, Rol," Kiera said, his voice calm but laced with fury. "Come out now."
From the shadows emerged Rol, a tall man with wild blond hair and a mocking grin that challenged the world. In his grip was Susan, a girl with long brown hair and eyes that seemed terrified—yet lacked the fear Kiera expected. Rol held her arm tightly.
"As I predicted," Rol said with smug confidence, pushing Susan forward. "You knew where to find me, didn't you?"
Kiera's fists clenched, his eyes darting between Rol and Susan. "Why drag her into our fight?" he roared, his voice trembling with rage.
Rol squeezed Susan's cheek, laughing derisively. "Why? Do you love her?" He paused, then let out a sharp, cutting laugh. "You chose this path, Kiera."
"You're the traitor!" Kiera shouted, his voice heavy with old pain. "Because of you, she died…" He faltered, a tear rolling down his cheek, quickly wiped away as his eyes burned with resolve.
"You still remember her?" Rol sneered, tilting his head as if savoring Kiera's pain. "Your heart's trapped in the past."
Kiera could take no more. "Men, get in here!" he bellowed, his voice shaking the basement walls.
His gang flooded the room, standing behind him like a small army, weapons at the ready. Kiera glared at Rol with a victorious smirk. "Your end, Rol."
But Rol's deep laugh echoed like thunder. He released Susan, and to Kiera's shock, she stepped forward and embraced Rol, her eyes filled with contempt. "What are you doing?" Kiera cried, his heart sinking.
"You're a fool, Kiera," Susan said, her voice sharp as shattered glass. "Rol's my love, isn't he, darling?"
Kiera felt the ground crumble beneath him. "What?" he muttered, his gaze flickering between them. He turned to his men, shouting, "Shoot them! Now!"
Silence answered him. Soft chuckles slithered from his men, poisoning his heart. Rol stepped closer, his smile a blade. "Didn't Suzie tell you you're a fool?" he mocked. "How many times did I betray you with her?"
Kiera screamed at his men, "I gave you an order! Kill him!" But their laughter grew, a symphony of scorn.
"Fool," Susan said, advancing like a queen confronting a defeated foe. "Your men are Rol's men."
"Exactly, Suzie," Rol confirmed, his voice calm yet commanding. He raised his hand and shouted, "Aim your weapons!"
The guns turned on Kiera. His once-loyal soldiers were now daggers in his back. His face paled, but he held firm, realizing Rol had been the puppet master all along.
"I'm the cunning one here, and you've fallen into my trap," Rol said with pride, relishing his enemy's defeat. "Any last words?"
Kiera met his gaze, his eyes blazing with defiance. He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a gleaming silver lighter. "Yes, I have last words," he said, his voice cold as ice. "You were right."
Rol raised an eyebrow, his smile fading. "What? Lighting a cigarette?" he scoffed.
Kiera's grin was chilling, a promise of destruction. "No," he said, flicking open the lighter. A small flame danced, casting a pale glow on his face. "But the part about me falling into your trap—that was a lie."
Rol's face drained of color as he sensed the danger. "Shoot him!" he screamed, but it was too late.
Kiera's final words echoed in Rol's mind like war drums: "But I'll take you with me."
Flames erupted from the floor and walls, a roaring sea of red and orange swallowing the basement. Explosions shook the orphanage, as if the earth itself raged. The walls collapsed, thick smoke filled the sky, and all within turned to ash.