A Contracted Gangster Who Has to Die to Survive - Chapter 60

Taejoon’s eyes darted around as he quickly scanned his surroundings.

Fortunately, a short distance away, he spotted the security team leader’s car. However, the relief was short-lived, no matter how hard he looked, there was no sign of the man himself.

He tilted his head slightly.

Something felt off.

He had instructed the security team leader to watch from a distance without intervening, but typically, the man would still step out of the car and remain on standby. Yet now, there wasn’t the slightest trace of his presence—not even a shadow.

Taejoon considered the possibilities: Maybe he stepped away for a moment, or maybe it’s because of the rain? But no—his security team leader wasn’t the type to slack off. If anything, he was stubbornly diligent.

He wouldn’t just sit inside his car to avoid the rain.

“Hmm…”

Taejoon absentmindedly toyed with the phone in his pocket.

Now that he thought about it, the footprints beneath the window earlier had belonged to an adult. But the only visitor they had seen was a child no older than elementary school.

That meant the shadow in the window and the footprints weren’t from the little crybaby.

The cigarette that had tasted fine moments ago now felt utterly stale. Taejoon flicked the rain-dampened cigarette away. His unease deepened as he reached into his pocket for his phone.

Then, from the depths of the darkness, a figure began to emerge—silent and lurking.

“……!”

Taejoon inhaled sharply, clenching his fists.

If not for the torrential rain masking the sound, he would have sensed someone this close. The realization that the intruder had managed to approach this near unsettled him.

What a pain.

Dressed in a black raincoat with the hood pulled low over his face, the man looked less like a person and more like a shadow. That shadow slowly crept toward him.

The only thing that caught the faint glimmer of light was the long, razor-sharp metal in the man’s hand. Taejoon gritted his teeth, narrowing one eye as he locked his gaze on the figure.

Then, in a voice hoarse from disuse, he muttered,

“So, it was you. The footprints.”

The man’s black lips twisted. A rough, dust-choked voice slipped through the gap.

“Footprints, my ass. You won’t have to worry about that much longer, kid.”

Kid?

Taejoon planted his feet, tensing his lower body and bending his knees slightly into a defensive stance. Keeping a keen eye on the man’s movements, he scoffed.

“Sorry, I’m past the age for that kind of talk.”

The man chuckled darkly, as if amused.

“For someone about to die, you’re pretty relaxed. Not what I expected.”

“And what exactly did you expect?”

“Heard you were a cute one.”

“Whoever told you that isn’t very reliable. Seems they’re into telling fairy tales.”

Any lingering emotions faded, leaving Taejoon cold and calculating. His mind shifted gears, rapidly assessing his opponent.

One target. No backup. Visible weapon—a knife. But who knows what else he’s hiding?

Five steps, four, three, two…

The distance between them continued to shrink.

Taejoon wasn’t worried about handling the man alone. What concerned him was the possibility that the intruder might bypass him and enter the house.

That could not happen.

Just as the man reached striking range, his gaze flickered toward the illuminated house. Taejoon immediately spoke.

“Who sent you?”

The man’s focus snapped back to him.

“Huh? Sent me? What the hell are you talking about?”

The way he didn’t recognize the term suggested he wasn’t from a syndicate.

“So, you’re a freelancer?”

“Shit, I don’t care about that crap. Enough talk. Just come here, and I’ll make it quick.”

“A freelancer with a lot to say. If you leave now, I’ll pretend this never happened.”

The man cackled again, shaking his head.

“Oh? How generous. But I can’t just leave empty-handed, can I? I’ve gotta take something with me.”

Adjusting his grip, the man straightened the knife, no longer holding it at an angle. The subtle tremor at the blade’s tip didn’t go unnoticed.

He was nervous.

Taejoon had met real professionals before—ones who carried out kills with cold precision, fast and silent. The more they talked, the more mistakes they made. A true assassin wouldn’t chatter like this.

Which meant this guy was an amateur.

And that was even more dangerous.

Unpredictable. Prone to emotional outbursts. Likely to act recklessly.

Taejoon took a slow breath, forcing himself to remain calm, and asked in a level tone,

“Who hired you?”

Was it Kang Jaewook? Director Park? Or… the Chairman himself?

The man sneered.

“My client?”

The man’s lips curled into a grotesque grin, stretching nearly to his ears. Without taking his gaze off Taejoon, he raised a finger and pointed toward the sky.

“God.”

“You son of a bitch. All talk, aren’t you?”

“You’ll be meeting my client soon enough. Make sure to greet them properly.”

The man’s voice, now so close, was crystal clear. Before he could strike, Taejoon focused all his attention on the man’s wrist, preparing to reach out and subdue it. His plan was simple—neutralize the weapon-wielding hand, then go for his legs.

But in that split second, the man’s arm jerked upward. Instead of aiming for Taejoon’s upper body, the blade suddenly plunged downward, slicing toward his lower torso. Taejoon barely managed to block it with his knee, twisting his other arm to grab the man’s throat.

“Goodbye, Woo Kyung.”

“…What? Who?”

Taejoon’s brow furrowed sharply at the unexpected name.

Woo Kyung?

Did he really just say Woo Kyung?

The name that had just escaped the man’s lips momentarily threw off Taejoon’s focus.

His head instinctively turned toward the house—toward Woo Kyung and the child inside.

Everything happened in a matter of seconds. He had assumed he could dodge a sloppy stab like this, but the man took full advantage of the opening.

“Ugh!”

A searing heat erupted in his lower abdomen, followed by the unsettling sensation of blood pooling beneath his waist.

The pain of torn muscles and split skin momentarily numbed his senses, dragging his consciousness into a haze.

Taejoon’s gaze flickered toward the sky. The relentless rain continued to pour down in a never-ending downpour.

Fuck.

Oddly enough, there was no pain—just an overwhelming sense of exhaustion, as if his body was rapidly losing all strength.

But he refused to collapse.

With everything he had, he clenched the man’s wrist, gripping it with desperate force.

The only thing that mattered was not letting go. Because if he did, he was dead.

“Haa… Tell me. How much are you getting paid for this?”

Every word he forced out came with a metallic taste of blood rising in his throat. Even as he spoke, he never loosened his grip.

“You son of a bitch! Let go!”

“Would you let go?”

Taejoon had two goals.

First, the man needed to keep believing that he was Woo Kyung.

Second, he needed to find out who had ordered the hit.

If he failed this time, another assassin would come. If he didn’t get to the bottom of it, Woo Kyung’s life would be in danger again.

That meant he couldn’t afford to let this man escape.

And more importantly, he couldn’t let him see the real Woo Kyung.

“I’ll pay you whatever you want. Just name your price.”

The man showed no signs of backing down. Though surprised by Taejoon’s strength, he quickly regained control, yanking the knife back toward himself, ready to drive it deeper.

“Just shut up and die, Woo Kyung!”

There it was again. Woo Kyung.

And with it, the full brunt of the pain finally crashed into him, spreading through his entire body like wildfire. Taejoon swallowed a scream, his bloodied hands lunging for the man’s collar.

Caught off guard, the man lost his balance.

“Ugh—!”

Feigning a pull, Taejoon suddenly shoved with all his might, sending the man flying backward.

The assassin hadn’t anticipated such a counterattack and was thrown off completely.

Seizing the moment, Taejoon vaulted over the low perimeter wall, landing hard on the other side.

He had to drag this bastard away from the house.

If Woo Kyung came outside after hearing the commotion, it would be a disaster.

For once, Taejoon was grateful for the deafening thunder and the ceaseless rain. The storm was drowning out the sounds of their struggle, keeping Woo Kyung from noticing.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?!”

But before he could get far, the assassin grabbed the back of his collar, yanking him down.

Taejoon crashed onto the muddy ground.

“Ugh!”

“Hah. Trying to run? You think you can escape from me?”

The man straddled Taejoon’s thigh, pinning him down.

As his fist swung toward Taejoon’s jaw, an earth-shattering bolt of lightning split the sky.

For a fleeting moment, the world lit up as bright as day.

And in that brief instant, Taejoon saw the assassin’s face—clear as day.

It was an unfamiliar face.

His wide, terrified eyes revealed that he was just some cocky, loudmouthed punk. But despite the fear, there was unmistakable madness lurking in them.

Realizing that he had just been stabbed by some greenhorn was almost insulting.

He had let his guard down. And now, he was paying for it.

At the same time, the man’s expression twisted in confusion as he got a proper look at Taejoon’s face.

“You… Who the hell are you? You’re not Woo Kyung.”

Lying on the rain-drenched ground, Taejoon struggled to steady his ragged breathing as he glared up at the man.

“Me?”

Beneath the assassin’s rain-soaked hood, his face contorted further. His lips formed silent words—though Taejoon could easily guess what they were.

Shit. I fucked up.

A slow, mirthless chuckle escaped Taejoon’s lips, his bloodless lips stretching into a smirk.

The assassin’s voice trembled as he stammered.

“Y-You… Are you seriously laughing, you crazy bastard?”

“Hah… I told you… Haah… So many times already.”

The man’s grip tightened as he growled.

“You’re not Woo Kyung, are you? Who the hell are you?”

With the last of his strength, Taejoon pushed himself up. His muscles screamed in protest, but he refused to collapse.

Then, lunging at the man, he bellowed,

“I am Woo Kyung!”

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