There were no such things as a perfect plan. Most plans would always have at least one factor that could not be accounted for.

Variables. In the end, there were only perfect executions. If a plan had no mistakes, then the one who made it could only be called a divine entity.

Even so, Nightreign still could not believe this would happen.

A leak.

Instead of the police or the Revenant Knights pursuing them, it was fellow mercenaries from the deep web.

Nightreign had expected corporate retaliation. They had expected law enforcement, government, or even the Directorate.

But mercenaries were another matter entirely. They operated outside regulation. They took whatever job paid more. If someone offered a higher price for Leo Deutschmann’s head, then Nightreign was simply another obstacle in their way.

That meant only one thing.

A counter-bounty had been issued.

And judging by the number of hostile signatures already moving toward their escape route, it was not a small sum.

Nightreign regrouped. Rachel checked the tracer networks and confirmed multiple squads closing in from several angles. Their vantage point was no longer secure. They would have to cut through competition just to deliver the target.

"Did you find the post yet, Anna!?"

"I’m on it!"

The hover car trembled mid-air as its stabilizers strained. Energy coils buzzed along the chassis, indicating abrupt evasive maneuvers.

Another vibration followed. The driver was forcing rapid altitude shifts to avoid pursuit. The equipment creaked as the cabin dipped, rose, then leveled.

"We’ve got multiple tags still closing in," Rachel said, fingers moving across her console. "Routes are being cut off. They’re trying to box us in."

"Can you pinpoint the bounty, Anna?" Yuze asked.

"There’s nothing. I can’t—wait." Her eyes narrowed. "What?"

"What?"

"We’ve been... blocked."

Their terminal returned only error screens. Their access to the deep web had been revoked without warning. For a mercenary group operating inside that network, losing access was no different from losing their freedom.

The deep web had always been a pit of lawlessness. Anything could be posted, bought, or sold with no regulation. It was a complete mess. And to this day, there have been no confirmed administrators running it.

One of the greatest unanswered questions in the world was who created it.

Some believed no creator existed at all, claiming the network was an accidental by-product of a defective AI. There were even rumors that the deep web was older than the modern internet itself. Some swore it was maintained by a hive of autonomous systems that updated and corrected each other, making it impossible to shut down.

Whatever the case, this finally confirmed a mystery for Nightreign.

There was a higher entity behind the deep web.

And judging from the timing, that entity had some connection to Dream Industries.

After all, why would their access be revoked the moment they accepted a job entailing the kidnapping of Leo Roland Deutschmann?

"Can you access it, Yuze?"

"Already on it."

But even Yuze was denied. One by one, the others checked their personal deep-web accounts, and each one returned the same result.

[Page not found.]

It made no sense. Their private accounts weren’t linked to Nightreign’s operational profile. Every identity was supposed to be compartmentalized. Yet somehow, all of them had been identified and blocked in perfect sequence.

"Shit, were we set up?"

"Do you remember the client’s profile?"

"If I recall correctly, it was an account known for selling internal state secrets..."

A heavy silence followed.

"Then... it was probably a trap account."

Their conclusion formed quickly. The deep-web profile advertising classified information wasn’t some rogue informant, but was likely a government plant, perhaps a double agent, or worse, an official channel designed to bait groups like theirs.

Unwittingly, Nightreign had fallen into their trap.

They weren’t simply being hunted by competing mercs.

And now, they were paying the price for accepting the commission.

They all turned toward Leo, still unconscious in the back seat.

"What the hell are we supposed to do with him now?"

"Keep him," Yuze said. "He’s our only leverage for possible negotiations."

"Negotiate with who?" Anna snapped. "Dream won’t bargain with street dogs! They’ll send the Directorate or the Revenants and burn us to ash!"

"Calm down." Yuze sighed. "Look at it from a different perspective. Dream might not bargain, but Adolf Deutschmann will."

No matter how untouchable he seemed, Adolf Deutschmann was human. Point a gun at his only son, and even the strongest man would tremble. That was the calculus Yuze banked on.

"That’s..." Anna bit her lip. "And what about after that? There is no way he’ll let us off scot free and say, ’Oh, you kidnapped my son and now you’re returning him? Thank you, I guess. You’re free to go. Haha!’ He’ll fucking kill us, you stupid—"

The rest never came.

Shatter——

The window shattered. Anna’s skull burst open in the same instant, her head collapsing against the seat. The front of the cabin went quiet. For a heartbeat, no one moved. Shock froze everyone present.

Even Emma, Leo’s girlfriend, who had been squirming only seconds earlier, had frozen, her eyes wide and fixed on the blood mist in the air.

* * *

Even though the Deutschmann heir never arrived, the night carried on anyway. The guests were far too absorbed in networking and forming new alliances to notice his absence.

By the hour, countless deals and negotiations had already formed.

"Mister Schneider, may I speak with you?"

Julius, who had been accompanying Isolde, paused. The voice behind him made his heart skip a beat.

"Miss... Aiseline?"

It was Aiseline. Julius glanced toward Isolde for confirmation. Isolde nodded wordlessly, indicating she would be fine.

There was no one here unaware of their past. The renowned musician and composer behind countless chart-topping songs engaged to the youngest son of the Schneider family, had once been a favorite topic among the younger generation.

Julius followed Aiseline toward the balcony. As they walked, his phone buzzed. He glanced down at the screen.

[Proceeding to vantage point. Estimated arrival: twenty minutes.]

He typed out a brief reply, tucked the device back into his pocket, and stepped outside with Aiseline.