Project 07

Chapter 16

I.N's POV:

Utter bullshit. Everything is just utter bullshit. While I'm here, waiting and training, eagerly anticipating Seungmin's letter, they're all out there, becoming best buddies, relaxing, and laughing. How futile. Do they even care about the plan or Seungmin's whereabouts?

In the midst of it all, that assassin and Changbin resolved all their issues. Then what was the damn point of all those years of fighting?

I sit in my room, peering out through the crack of my door, utterly irritated by the scene. What's the point of getting along and having fun? We're all here for one purpose and one purpose only: to protect that stupid girl. What is so special about her that Seungmin gathered all of us for this one bothersome task? And that girl doesn't even know Seungmin. She's completely clueless. She doesn't even realize how fucking lucky she is to have encountered someone like him. Her life is protected because of him, but all she knows about him is his name. The thought makes me so damn angry.

No one is taking this seriously. At first, I worried that the fight between that assassin and Changbin would end horribly because it might have ruined everything, but then Minho stepped in to stop it. I didn't care much after that. But now that guy and Changbin are supposedly the best of cousins after one night? Bullshit. They're forgetting the main focus of why we're all here in the first place. They might...they might even forget all about Seungmin.

I owe him a lot. He's the only one I really care about. Feelings and emotions are useless. But somehow, seeing Seungmin smile...always made me smile as well. It's humiliating, but I've learned to live with it because it was him after all.

Seungmin...

I focus my eyes on the window of the room as I settle on the bed, reminiscing about the time I first encountered Seungmin.

...

I.N's Flashback.

I didn't have a home for as long as I could remember. Survival was my only instinct. School was a distant dream. My first kill remains a vivid memory, etched into my mind from the age of nine. It happened on a day when I had scraped together just enough coins to purchase a single slice of bread. After days of hunger, that bread represented more than just sustenance—it was hope. But as I walked down the street, preparing to finally savor my meager meal, a man snatched it from my grasp and fled. At first, I felt sadness, but then something ignited within me. It was rage I never felt before. With nothing left to lose and that stolen bread my only lifeline, I chased him down the street, navigating through the crowd. He didn't even realize I was chasing him until he reached a dead end. With a smirk, he laughed to himself in the corner before turning around—only to find me standing right behind him. His initial shock at my speed quickly gave way to a knowing smirk.

"Look, kid," he said, pulling a knife from his back pocket. "There's no point in chasing me."

Another grin formed on his lips as he slowly took a bite of the bread—the only food I could have had. I don't know what happened to me, but I instantly lunged to tackle the man, the bread thrown into the air as our struggle ensued. Caught off guard, he didn't see it coming.

"You've messed with the wrong-" he began, only to realize his knife wasn't in his hand anymore. I glanced to the side and spotted it just out of my reach. I don't remember my thought process but I do remember that I immediately lunged for it and plunged it into his chest repeatedly, exactly four hundred and fifty two times, the metallic clang of the blade echoing in the air. Blood splattered in all directions, painting my face, clothes and hands with crimson. As the mans lifeless body slumped to the ground, I felt nothing at all.

That was when I realized, no matter how respectful and kind someone may be, humans are the worst creatures of all. I stole bread that day instead of gathering coins again to pay, and that knife—I took it with me and kept it ever since. It's the only blade I trust; it's never failed me. A symbol of my first kill.