"Looks like you're finally cornered."

Cha Duri HATED his luck.

Diluk had never looked more smug than he did now, towering over him as he and his lackeys (well, Acnee's lackies, but who cared for specifics?) surrounded him.

How could he have been so reckless?

His hand moved to grab the knife at its normal position, and he shakily managed to get up, gripping the side of the cup to steady himself, "Well, if you think I'm going to go down that quickly, you have a whole other thing coming."

"We just need to keep you here till Miss Acnee is ready to deal with you," Diluk smirked.

Duri's eyes lit up slightly, mischief dancing in his orbs, "Whoever said that I was going to be easy?"

With that, he spun on his heel and jumped over the teacup.

The shouts of alarm and disbelief rang out, but he didn't care. He sped up, sliding under the rope and trying to outrun his pursuers.

An offhand thought ran through his head, It's getting late. Maybe I could have Y pick me up?

No, that was too risky. He couldn't risk his partner getting kidnapped again.

Looks like he was on his own for this one.

He was used to it, though, so it didn't bother him as much as it had before, when he couldn't even go to the toilet alone without wanting to do something to hurt himself.

Those were dark times.

He couldn't dwell on them now.

He had to escape first.

Maybe afterwards, he could wonder just how messed up his life had been, especially with the scars under his jacket.

But for now, he had to focus.

He took in some deep breaths amidst the running, and narrowed his eyes, allowing his brain to finally take control.

He could do this.

After all, everything he had worked for would be wasted if he lost now.

He couldn't.

He had to win this war, at all costs.