Morning.
The sky was pale gray.
The clouds were thin.
Light was pressed evenly across the sky.
No direct sunlight.
The air carried a trace of moisture.
The funeral had already begun.
The venue was large.
Black drapes hung along both sides.
White bouquets were arranged in neat rows.
No gaps.
No disorder.
Everything had been prepared in advance.
Many people had come.
At the entrance, some entered.
On the other side, some left.
The rhythm was steady.
No congestion.
As if time had been assigned.
Their footsteps were light.
Sound was absorbed by the ground.
No echo.
Guang stood to one side.
Not at the center.
Not near the altar.
He simply watched.
His gaze moved among the passing people.
Not searching.
Confirming.
The first person stepped forward.
Stopped.
Nodded.
Lit incense.
Standard movements.
No pause.
Left quickly.
The second.
The third.
The process was identical.
No variation.
There were many like them.
No emotion.
No extra movement.
Just completing the process.
Then leaving.
Like fulfilling a required task.
After that—
Some stayed longer.
They stood before the altar.
Did not light incense immediately.
First, they looked.
Their gaze lingered.
Then they completed the motion.
Their hands moved slower.
There were pauses between actions.
Some lowered their heads.
Some closed their eyes.
They did not look back when leaving.
There were not many of them.
But each stayed longer.
Their actions were steadier.
Not routine.
Recognition.
After that—
A change appeared in the crowd.
Someone stepped forward.
Their movement paused briefly midair.
Then continued.
Shoulders lowered.
Breathing became shallow.
Some stood still.
Not forgetting the process.
But not completing it immediately.
Their eyes remained on the portrait.
For a long time.
Some slowed their steps when leaving.
Some stopped at the edge.
As if wanting to look back—
but did not.
This was the third group.
Those who had been helped.
At some point in the past,
they had been caught—
by Chairman Bai.
Guang watched.
No recording.
No sorting.
The order formed naturally.
He did not think about names.
He did not need to.
He was only confirming—
how Chairman Bai
had once existed.
The flow of people gradually decreased.
The rhythm slowed.
Intervals lengthened.
Until no new arrivals entered.
The venue fell quiet.
Only then did Guang step forward.
He looked at the portrait.
After lighting incense, he fell into thought.
——
That afternoon.
A meeting room.
The space was sealed.
Lighting stable.
Few participants.
All core members.
They sat in their places.
No conversation.
The table was clean.
No extra documents.
Information had already been organized.
Guang sat at the main seat.
Not intentionally.
It was simply empty.
The meeting began.
No opening.
Straight to the content.
Share transfer.
Already completed.
All shares under Chairman Bai—
had been transferred to Guang.
The ratio unchanged.
The structure intact.
This meant one thing.
Guang had become the largest shareholder.
No one objected.
The process stood.
Guang spoke.
"I will not participate in operations."
His tone was steady.
No explanation.
The room did not react.
He continued.
"The original executor will remain responsible."
No name was mentioned.
But everyone knew.
That person sat beside Guang.
The former right hand.
Responsible for execution.
For turning decisions into results.
He nodded.
A small motion.
No extra expression.
Not an appointment.
A continuation.
The meeting proceeded.
All matters passed quickly.
No disputes.
No discussion.
The meeting ended.
No summary.
Everyone left.
——
Days later.
The Noctrae Syndicate
had begun to collapse.
Funds stopped flowing.
Not frozen—
broken.
Cooperation ended.
No announcement.
Just—
no longer continued.
Channels withdrew.
Resources could not be accessed.
Contracts could not be executed.
Internal chaos began.
Not an outbreak.
A loss of direction.
Everyone was acting—
but nothing produced results.
Attempts increased.
Failures increased.
Not a single success.
Opponents began to approach.
Not suddenly.
Gradually.
They knew the structure had failed.
Conflicts appeared.
Small in scale.
But clear in result.
No effective defense.
Second time.
Third time.
The scope expanded.
No unified command.
As if dismantled.
Soon—
the name was no longer used.
Not announced.
No one mentioned it anymore.
The forces behind it dispersed.
No effective control remained.
They simply left—each on their own.
——
Elsewhere.
A room without markings.
The lights were off.
Curtains drawn.
No light entered.
Jackal sat inside.
He had not left for a long time.
The table was clean.
No extra items.
Only a glass of water.
Left untouched for a long time.
He did not move.
His breathing was steady.
As if waiting.
He knew clearly—
this period would not last long.
He had been in this line of work for over ten years.
He had seen many people.
At first, they were careful.
Later, they relaxed.
In the end, they left traces.
They were found.
They were dealt with.
He had always avoided that.
He never acted personally.
Never left direct paths.
Every action
was completed through layers in between.
Personnel constantly replaced.
Nodes constantly switched.
He was responsible only for results.
Not the process.
The reason was simple.
He knew the ending.
He never believed he would die well.
Only hoped to delay it.
As long as the path was not direct—
it could not be locked.
He had always done this.
And always succeeded.
All these years—
no one had directly found him.
Even in failure,
only personnel were lost.
Not him.
He had escape routes.
More than one.
Different regions.
Different identities.
Different structures.
He could switch at any time.
He was already prepared to leave.
Not retreat.
Transfer.
Enter another structure.
Start again.
This was not the first time.
He was familiar with the process.
But this time—
he did not act immediately.
Because the timing
had not fully severed.
He needed to confirm—
whether old connections were completely gone.
Whether new paths were stable.
He was not in a hurry.
He was used to waiting.
But this time—
something was different.
Not external.
A feeling.
Not emotion.
Judgment.
He could not find
a complete path to leave.
Not that there were none.
He could not confirm them.
Every path existed.
But none could guarantee a result.
This had never happened before.
He tried to analyze.
Breaking paths apart.
Separating nodes.
Each node was normal.
But together—
they could not form a complete route.
As if a segment had been removed.
He did not go deeper.
Because this problem—
had no solution.
He changed approach.
Prepared to leave directly.
Reduce nodes.
Shorten the path.
Direct transfer.
He stood up.
His movement was light.
He walked to the door.
His hand rested on it.
Paused for a moment.
Not hesitation.
Confirmation.
Then opened it.
The door opened.
Someone was outside.
Standing there.
No concealment.
No hiding.
As if they had always been waiting.
Jackal did not step back.
Did not attack immediately.
He looked at the person.
No identifiable information.
No origin.
No path.
As if the person had not arrived—
but simply existed.
He confirmed one thing.
He had been found.
And not just now.
He had been locked long ago.
Only now—execution.
He spoke.
His voice flat.
"Were you sent by the Jesse family?"
The only reasonable explanation.
The other smiled.
Very faintly.
"The Jesse family?"
A trace of mockery in the tone.
A brief pause.
Then—
"Seems you don't remember."
He did not continue.
Only looked at Jackal.
Then added—
"The people you killed."
Silence returned.
No wind.
No sound.
Jackal asked no more.
He understood.
This was not a task.
Not an order.
Not structural behavior.
An individual.
Also—
a result.
He did not run.
Did not try.
Because there was no path.
He had always avoided leaving paths.
So now—
none existed for escape.
He stood there.
No further analysis.
Began the final struggle.
But the result had already been established.
This time—
he was not the one solving the problem.
He was the problem.
And would be resolved.
The room was silent.
No extra sound.
As if none of this
had ever been recorded.
But it was already over.