His face feels hot from his exhalation onto the mask over his nose and mouth, his leather-gloved hands flipping lazily through the papers stacked on the mahogany desk. His hair is hidden carefully under a black hood, the only part he's exposing is the pair of his sharp eyes. He has been in the room for two hours exploring like he owns the place, the room he's in witnessing him as the only occupant. He traces his covered fingers over the letters on the nameplate on the desk as his eyes catch the small cameras littered all over the place.

There is one obvious camera at one corner of the room, pointing towards the door heading into the room. At first glance, it might seem that there is only one surveillance camera, but he has combed through the room to know that there are two more hidden among the books on the shelf and another placed on the vase of flowers on the coffee table.

The owner is definitely paranoid; but then again, just by knowing how he treats other people, the paranoia is well-grounded.

He scoffs at how some people treat others as literal garbage but pretends to be surprised when they are treated the same way in return. These kind of people aren't susceptible to words; their ears are blocked from hearing anyone they deem lower than them. These kind of people need to be shown, so that they will finally listen. It's too bad that the cameras won't be able to capture what he's about to do; to the cameras the room has been empty since.

He's patient; there's no use in rushing because he has plenty of time. He jumps into the office chair, swinging around as he stretches his legs, waiting for the owner to come back so he'll be able to greet him. Time goes by; he resists the urge to whistle, not wanting to attract any attention towards himself. He'll get all the attention when he's done with the owner.

He stops the chair from swinging by putting down his feet on the floor, facing the shelf behind so that when the particular someone comes in, the first sight they have is the back of the office chair. He laces his fingers together, a sly smile creeping onto his face as he hears the beeping of the passcode being punched in. He steadies himself, ready to face the person who's about to come in. He hears muted footsteps on the carpeted floor and with the confirmation through his earpiece on the identity of the newcomer, he spins around.

"Welcome back," he coos.

"What the hell-" the newcomer starts, his hands already reaching out to call for security through the phone on his desk, but the intruder is faster in pushing the phone off the desk. The handset dangles on the cord, now too far for the owner to reach for it.

He jumps over the desk, launching himself onto the owner and bringing him down with him. They get involved in a scuffle but the intruder gets the upper hand as he pins down the owner with his arms. The latter gets weaker at the sight of a glinting blade taken out from a band around the intruder's legs, unable to form any words or calculate any reaction that could stop him.

He places the blade against the man's neck, spitting, "Where was all that bravado when you came thumping on her door? Cat got your tongue? Your muscles being uncooperative?"

"Who the are you?" is his only response from his mouth, meanwhile his body's only response is violent shaking. Fear is enveloping the owner, further bringing a failure to his system. He lies under the intruder, his brain malfunctioning as he can't think of anything other than that it's definitely his last day alive.

"Who am I doesn't matter, Yoon Daewon. Proud of selling that name around, huh? You're the, what, son of the largest car manufacturer in the whole damn country? Might want to consider having a bodyguard around you 24/7 since your personality stinks. Too bad you can't take a hint." He presses the blade deeper onto the skin on his neck. "Come on, put up a fight. You seem to be very-" he slaps a hand to his own muscles, "-when you were shouting all of that."

"What do you want from me? If you want money then tell me so-"

He laughs, scrunching his nose and narrowing his eyes. "I don't need money, . I have more than you can imagine. I want you to learn back your comprehension and listening skills, alright? When someone says no, it means no. It doesn't mean 'I want you to convince me without stopping until I give in.' Lesson one."

"Did Han Byul send you? How much did that pay you?"

He rears back his hand to land a slap on Daewon's cheek. He grabs his collar with his left hand, the right still aiming the knife at him. "You call her that again and I'll make sure you won't rest in peace. You disturb her, you pay for it. I want you to remember every person you have wronged, every dirty deed you did, let that be the last memory of your life. If I followed what I really wanted to do, I'll let you suffer slowly until your death, but this world doesn't really lose anything if you're gone quickly."

With one swift motion and his gloved hand firmly gripping the knife's handle, he slashes the blade across Daewon's neck and then slams down the knife into his chest. He pulls it out, letting the blood spurt out, dirtying the target's clothes and dark grey carpet. Daewon lies half-dead underneath him and he gets off, throwing the knife onto the floor beside his torso. With a weak hand, Daewon tries to grab his leg but he shrugs it off.

He opens the blinds of the large transparent window overlooking his assistant's desk, just enough for people outside to take a peek. It looks like his assistant is still oblivious to the scene inside. He crouches beside Daewon, takes out a marker before smudging the ink in a purposeful symbol on his forehead; a sign to the enforcement officers so that they'll know who exactly did this.

He goes the opposite way. He leans against the window facing the city landscape, unlatches it before he jumps outside, grabbing the rope that has been dangling by ever since his plot started. Before he descends he meets the eyes of his victim, but he stares back coldly, not an ounce of regret washing over him.

The only thing reeling in his mind is all the background information he has on Yoon Daewon, his criminal record which seems clean at first sight but actually cover different levels; ones that can be wipe