Jinho woke up to someone shaking his shoulder and that familiar, awful reminder—airplane seats are always terrible, no matter how many times you try to sleep in them.
"We're landing in ten minutes," Tanaka said.
Jinho made a noise. Maybe it was a word, maybe not.
"I said we're landing in—"
"I heard you." He sat up, instantly regretting it. His neck felt like it had finally given up on its only job. "What time is it?"
"5:47 AM, local time."
"That's evil."
"It's morning."
"Morning doesn't start until at least eight. Ten would be better." He rubbed his face. "Has anyone ever told you you're aggressively functional?"
"Often." Tanaka was already packed up, tablet away, looking like she'd just stepped out of a spa instead of surviving a long-haul flight. "You should review the briefing documents before we land."
"I'll look at them in the car."
"We have ten minutes."
"Then I'll look at them very quickly in the car."
The Jade Emperor chimed in, "The vessel awakens. Still lazy, I see."
"Give him a break," said the Phoenix. "He actually slept for once."
"I'm awake now," Jinho replied in his head. "So you three can get back to your regular morning arguing."
"We don't argue," said the Jade Emperor.
"We debate," the Phoenix agreed.
"You bicker," the Demon King said. "It's like living with divorced parents who still have to spend holidays together."
The jet started its descent. Out the window, northern Thailand spread out—jungle, mountains, a few roads slicing through all that green. Far off, Chiang Mai's lights glowed, a patchwork of city in a sea of nature that honestly didn't care about cities at all.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Tanaka asked, peering out her own window.
"It's really green."
"We're about to land in one of Southeast Asia's cultural capitals and that's your thought? 'It's really green'?"
"I'm not a morning person. You get basic observations until I've had coffee." Jinho stretched as much as the seat let him. "Speaking of, please tell me there's coffee where we're going."
"The briefing says a local contact's meeting us at the airport."
"Does the local contact have coffee?"
"No idea. The briefing doesn't cover their coffee situation."
"Then the briefing's missing the important stuff."
The jet touched down—smooth landing, he had to admit, KSID always hired good pilots—and rolled over to a private stretch, away from the main terminal. Jinho spotted a small building, some hangars, and one person waiting by a battered vehicle.
The car was a Toyota pickup, probably early 2000s, painted some color that was once white but now mostly rust and stubbornness. The person next to it wore jeans, a faded jacket, and sunglasses—way too early for sunglasses, but they didn't seem to care.
"That's our contact?" Tanaka asked, sounding unconvinced.
"Probably."
"They look…"
"Like someone who operates somewhere that looking too official gets you killed?" Jinho unbuckled his seatbelt. "Yeah. That's the Golden Triangle."
The jet door opened. Warm, sticky air rushed in—jet fuel mixed with something floral he couldn't name. He grabbed his bag—the one the driver packed, hopefully with stuff he'd actually need—and headed down the steps.
The contact watched them come, standing still in that way you only learn after lots of waiting. Up close, Jinho saw she was a woman, maybe late thirties, with a face that said she spent more time in the sun than worrying about skin cream.
"Agent Seo?" Her voice sounded like gravel, but her English was sharp. "I'm Narin."
"Just Jinho is fine." He nodded at Tanaka. "This is Agent Tanaka."
"Just Tanaka is fine," Tanaka said, giving a small bow.
Narin looked them over, then pushed her sunglasses up onto her head. Her eyes were quick—sizing them up. "You're the triple-blessed one?"
"Unfortunately."
"And you're dual-blessed?" she asked Tanaka.
"Yes."
"Huh." Narin turned and walked toward the truck. "KSID's sending the heavy hitters. Must be serious."
"It's very serious," Tanaka said, following her. "We're tracking a stolen artifact. Phoenix Seal. Our intel says it's moving through this region."
"Yeah, I know. Your boss sent me the file." Narin opened the driver's door. "Sent extra cash, too, so this is going to be dangerous, annoying, or both."
"Probably both," Jinho said, climbing into the passenger seat.
Tanaka got in the back, somehow managing to look dignified even in a rusty truck that smelled faintly of fish sauce and cigarettes.
Narin started the engine. It coughed twice, then decided to play along. So, here's where we stand. Six hours ago, someone hit the Bangkok vault. Word like that spreads fast—by the time your plane touched down, half the underworld from Chiang Rai to Mandalay was buzzing about the heist. In a place like this, secrets have a half-life measured in minutes.
Jinho glanced over at Narin, eyebrows arched. "Who's broadcasting it?"
Narin exhaled, watching the crowds thin as they left the airport. "Everyone with a stake. Smugglers, fixers, info brokers, and the so-called 'legit' business folks who swear blind they've never seen a poppy field. In the Golden Triangle, the jungle talks. Move a divine artifact, and you might as well set off fireworks—people notice. Eyes everywhere, ears in every border town."
Jinho considered that, then asked, "Any chatter about where it's heading?"
Narin nodded, lips twisting into something between a grin and a grimace. "There's movement near Ban Pong—half-abandoned village hugging the Thai-Myanmar border. Used to be a crossroads for every brand of contraband you can imagine: guns, drugs, relics, people. Now it's mostly jungle reclaiming the ruins, a handful of old-timers, and the ghosts people whisper about after dark."
Tanaka leaned forward from the back seat, curiosity piqued. "Ghosts?"
Narin shrugged. "Just a figure of speech. Maybe. The place feels haunted, but it's mostly just forgotten, cut off from the world. No local officials, no police—perfect if you want to stash something you don't want found. That's why the smart money says they're hiding there."
Phoenix, gaze fixed on the passing roadside shacks, sounded skeptical. "This feels a little too easy."
Jade Emperor's tone was cool, clipped. "That's exactly why we shouldn't let our guard down."
Demon King, ever the wild card, grinned. "Or maybe we should walk straight into the lion's den and shake things up. Sometimes you learn more from being the bait."
Jinho ignored the bait, focusing on logistics. "How far out is Ban Pong?"
Narin checked the dashboard clock. "Three hours if the roads hold up. Five if monsoon ruts slow us down. Six if we hit any checkpoints or get stopped for a 'friendly' chat. You got papers?"
Jinho produced a battered folder. "KSID diplomatic credentials."
Narin gave a low whistle. "Impressive. Should get you past most obstacles. But just so you know, around here, 'law enforcement' means whoever's holding the biggest gun or paying the best bribes. Local warlords, border guards, corrupt soldiers—they all make the rules. So keep your head down, don't start fights, and for the love of every god you serve, don't flash your powers unless there's truly no other option."
Tanaka frowned, glancing between Jinho and Narin. "Why not? Wouldn't a show of force keep the trouble off us?"
Narin tapped ash out the window, her jaw tight. "Because this region is a powder keg. Thai army on one side, Myanmar's military on the other, and a dozen ethnic militias in between. There are warlords who've kept a fragile peace for years because everyone's making money. You start flinging divine power around, you upend the whole game. Everyone suffers—and they'll blame you for it."
Jinho's eyes narrowed. "Messier than someone trying to wake up the Primordial Spirits?"
Narin's mouth twisted into a sharp smile. "Different flavor of disaster. The Spirits will kill everyone outright. Upset the local balance, and the people here will make sure you regret it every step of the way. They're patient. They don't forget."
"Comforting," Tanaka muttered.
Narin shrugged. "I'm not here to make you comfortable. I'm here to get you through a part of the world that chews up outsiders and spits out the bones. The jungle doesn't care who you are. If you're lucky, the worst thing you'll meet is malaria."
She took another drag, eyes scanning the road ahead. "Speaking of survival—either of you eaten?"
Jinho and Tanaka both shook their heads, stomachs rumbling in reluctant agreement.
Narin grinned. "There's a roadside place about forty minutes ahead. Best khao soi north of Chiang Mai, and the coffee won't make you blind. We'll refuel, then push on."
Jinho's mood lightened. "You know how to win me over."
The city's edge blurred behind them, concrete giving way to dusty lanes, then rice fields, then tangled brush and the slow encroachment of jungle. It was as if civilization receded mile by mile, the land swallowing up the efforts of humans to tame it. Sunlight splintered through the canopy, painting everything in shifting gold and green, briefly turning the truck's battered hood into something almost magical.
Jinho finally powered on the briefing tablet. Tanaka was right—there was a mountain of data. Satellite images tracked new footpaths winding through the jungle, smuggling routes marked with red lines, dossiers on every local boss and militia, and a deep dive on the Phoenix Seal itself.
He read aloud, "The Seal's split in two. They need to be joined and charged with divine energy—takes about seventy-two hours, and it has to be a blessed source. Can't just plug it into a generator."
Tanaka whistled. "Three days—that's a long time to maintain a charge, even for a team."
Jinho nodded, scrolling through the notes. "Whoever took it either has a crew of blessed agents, rotating in shifts, or one serious powerhouse holding the fort. Either way, they can't be on the move. They'll need a secure hideout—somewhere remote, away from prying eyes."
Narin's voice cut in, thoughtful. "Like Ban Pong. Place is perfect—no one goes there unless they have to."
Jinho's mind worked through the possibilities. "Everything lines up. Too neatly."
Jade Emperor, in that measured, ancient tone, added, "The pieces are falling into place, but it feels orchestrated."
Phoenix's eyes narrowed. "Almost like someone wants us to follow."
Demon King just laughed. "Maybe the thieves are sloppy. Or maybe they're cocky. Either way, it'll be fun to see what's waiting."
The truck rattled over a pothole, jolting everyone but Narin, who barely blinked.
Jinho glanced at her, curiosity overcoming protocol. "So why are you mixed up in this? KSID's paying, sure, but there are safer gigs."
Narin let out a genuine, coarse laugh. "Safe doesn't pay. I deal in information. Sometimes I sell, sometimes I steal, sometimes I just survive. Right now, KSID's money is good, and I've learned to grab opportunity when it knocks."
Tanaka studied her, skeptical. "You're not worried about the world-ending stakes?"
Narin's voice softened, just a hair. "I worry about making it to payday. If the world ends, I'll be the first to know—occupational hazard. But stopping the apocalypse? That's your job, hero. The rest of us just try to stay out of the crossfire."
Jinho snorted, half amused, half resigned. "You make it sound like being chosen is a punishment."
Narin's eyes met his, kind for a moment. "It is. But someone's gotta do it, right?"
Jinho grinned, shaking his head. "They never pay enough for this."
"They never do."
Tanaka piped up from the back. "Narin-ssi, you said half the region's heard about the theft. Anyone else sniffing around? Any other groups after the Seal?"
Narin swung the truck onto a narrow road, barely wider than two cars. The jungle pressed in close on either side, green and restless. "Funny you ask. Word is, there's a crew moving through the area. Not locals, not government types. They've got money to burn, don't talk much, and—honestly—they move like pros. It's obvious they've done this sort of thing before. Private team, definitely. They make people nervous."
"Got a description?" Tanaka asked, voice sharpening.
"That's where it gets weird. No one's managed to get a good look. They keep to the shadows, always pay in cash, don't stick around long enough for questions. But—" Narin hesitated, glancing up at the rearview. "Two days ago, someone spotted one of their number. Just a glimpse, but it was enough."
Jinho leaned forward, alert. "And?"
Narin's eyes flicked to him, serious now. "Description matches one of the Bangkok vault thieves. Young woman, early twenties. Moved like military—fast, efficient. She was overheard speaking Japanese."
Tanaka straightened, the change in her demeanor immediate. "Japanese?"
Narin nodded. "Yeah. That mean something to you?"
"Maybe." Tanaka was already scrolling through her phone, quick and precise. "Tokyo's been tracking a cell—we call them the Obsidian Covenant. They're old hands at this sort of thing. High-profile thefts, sabotage, a few suspected assassinations. Their ideology's a mess—something about chaos being the catalyst for human evolution. They want to accelerate disaster, force entire regions into upheaval."
Jinho snorted. "Sounds like a bunch of maniacs with a manifesto."
"Pretty much," Tanaka said. "But they're organized. And when they show up, things get ugly fast."
"If the Covenant's here," the Jade Emperor spoke suddenly, the weight of his presence pressing into the cab, "then the stakes have just risen. They don't take half measures."
"They tried to end the world in Jakarta five years ago," Phoenix added, her voice a low flame. "Thousands dead. It was only by luck and sacrifice they didn't succeed. And Seoul, two years before that. Bombings, riots, engineered pandemics."
"And that incident in Siberia," the Demon King said, almost with a grim admiration. "The one the governments still pretend never happened. They're relentless. Always two steps ahead."
Jinho rolled his eyes. "Let's not start a fan club for the doomsday cult."
Narin glanced over in confusion. "Say something?"
"Nothing. Just the gods getting chatty."
Narin grinned. "That's what happens with triple blessings. My grandmother used to say, 'Too many gods in your head, not enough room for peace and quiet.'"
"She sounds wise."
"She was. Also a smuggler, back in her day. Retired at seventy, built herself a beach house on money the taxman never found. Wisdom comes in many forms." She flicked her cigarette out the window, the ash trailing away in the wind.
The truck crested a rise, and a small village came into view—two dusty lanes, maybe twenty buildings. The air shimmered with new sunlight. People were already moving: a boy herding chickens, an old man patching a fence. Smoke rose from cook fires, carrying the scent of garlic and chili, pungent and comforting.
"Breakfast," Narin declared, pulling into a dirt patch that passed for a lot. "Best khao soi in the north. You'll thank me."
They piled out, stretching stiff legs. Jinho flexed his shoulders, feeling the ache of too many cramped hours. Tanaka looked as composed as ever, her shirt still crisp, not a hair out of place. Jinho found it increasingly hard to decide whether to admire or resent that.
The "restaurant" was a patchwork roof over mismatched tables and plastic chairs, open to the morning breeze. An older woman manned a battered pot, stirring something golden and fragrant. She grinned at Narin's rapid-fire Thai and nodded, already ladling steaming broth into bowls.
"Three khao soi, three coffees," Narin translated, dropping into a chair. "We've got maybe fifteen minutes before people start noticing outsiders. Let's get our next steps in order."
Cups arrived—coffee dark and hot, probably instant but strong enough to jolt Jinho awake. Tanaka sipped hers unhurried, as if the chaos of the morning were a distant rumor.
"So," Narin said, lighting another cigarette, "you're all chasing the Phoenix Seal. You think it's in Ban Pong. What happens when you find it?"
"Bring it back," Jinho replied.
Narin raised an eyebrow. "That's a wish, not a plan."
Jinho shrugged. "I'm working on the details."
"You're improvising," Narin said, amused.
"I prefer to think of it as creative problem solving."
Tanaka set her cup down with deliberate care. "We need a proper recon. Check the area, spot any surveillance, count how many people are guarding the place. If the Covenant is here, we're walking into a hornet's nest."
Narin grinned. "See? She's got a plan."
"Her plan involves effort," Jinho retorted. "I like plans that don't require me to break a sweat."
"And what's your plan, then? Just waltz in and hope no one notices?"
"My plan is to unleash overwhelming divine force and let the cleanup be someone else's problem."
All three gods groaned in unison. "That's not a plan," they chorused.
"It's worked before," Jinho insisted, only half joking.
"Barely," Phoenix muttered.
"With more collateral damage than results," the Jade Emperor said pointedly.
"But it worked," the Demon King crowed. "Which is more than you can say for most mortals."
Their food arrived—bowls piled high with golden noodles, crispy fried shards, a wedge of lime on the side. The curry was rich, coconut-scented, flecked with chili oil. Jinho dug in, grateful for the distraction. Tanaka ate with precise, practiced motions, never dropping a noodle. Narin ate quickly, eyes always scanning the road, the habit of someone who learned young not to linger.
Narin wiped her mouth and leaned forward. "Alright. You two have gods on your side. Powers, blessings, all that. But that doesn't mean much out here. The Golden Triangle doesn't care about divine heritage. You could call down thunder and fire, but one bullet from a nervous kid with an old rifle and it's all over. Never forget that."
Tanaka's eyes met hers, steady. "Understood. We're not invincible."
Narin nodded. "Good. Because if this is the Covenant, you need to understand how they work. They don't play by any rules. They'll use the locals, bribe officials, poison wells—whatever gets the job done. And the people here? They know how to keep quiet. Outsiders make them nervous. If things go bad, they'll scatter, and the Covenant will vanish before you even know where to look."
She leaned back, exhaling a long plume of smoke. "We're up against more than just thieves. These people believe in what they're doing. They're fanatics with resources. And in these hills, belief is a weapon all its own."
The village around them stirred—kids laughing, a rooster crowing, the world oblivious to the weight of history and danger converging on its doorstep.
Jinho set down his spoon, appetite fading a little as the reality settled in. "So. Recon first. Then we figure out who's guarding the Seal—and who's waiting in the shadows to take it from us."
"Exactly," Tanaka said. "No heroics until we know the lay of the land."
"Counterpoint," Jinho said, mouth full of noodles, barely pausing between bites. "That's exactly what I was planning."
Narin just looked at him, eyes narrowed, as if she could see through the bravado to whatever half-baked scheme he was actually cooking up. "Are you actually serious?"
"He's never serious," Tanaka said, sounding exhausted, like he'd spent years trying and failing to teach Jinho the meaning of caution.
Jinho waved his chopsticks in the air, a stray noodle dangling from the tip. "I'm serious sometimes. Just not before I've had my coffee." He flashed a crooked grin, the kind that always made people underestimate him—sometimes even his friends.
"When it matters, he's serious," the Phoenix said. She actually sounded impressed for once, which was saying something, given her usual scathing commentary. "The rest of the time, he saves his energy, like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike."
"Pretty sure that's just called being lazy," said the Jade Emperor, his voice dry as dust.
"Lazy, efficient—same thing if you ask me," the Demon King chimed in, his tone amused, almost fond. "Why waste effort on things that don't matter?"
Jinho slurped up the last of his khao soi—honestly, this little roadside place was punching far above its weight class—and leaned back, letting the food settle. Sunlight poured in through the open windows, cutting across the scratched tabletop, warming his skin and making the whole world feel slow and golden, as if the day itself wanted to linger before whatever came next. For a fleeting moment, it was easy to pretend they were just a group of friends on a road trip, not a mismatched team about to chase down ancient magic and possibly die trying.
"Here's the plan," he said, voice bright and confident as if the universe always bent to his will. "We drive to Ban Pong, check things out. If the Seal's there, we grab it. If someone gets in the way, I'll deal with it." He made it sound so simple, as if he hadn't seen plans like this fall apart a dozen times before.
Tanaka raised an eyebrow, skepticism radiating from every inch of him. "Not exactly overflowing with details."
"It's detailed enough. We'll figure out the rest on the fly." Jinho's tone was breezy, but there was a steeliness underneath, the kind that came from having survived situations where improvisation was the only thing that kept them breathing.
Tanaka shook his head, lips pressed into a thin line. "You mean, improvising. Again. Because that always works out so well."
Jinho grinned wider, not at all chastened. "I mean, being adaptable. There's a difference. One's desperate, the other's just… flexible."
Narin ground out her cigarette, the stub hissing in the dregs of her tea, and stood up with the practiced ease of someone who'd seen more than her share of reckless plans. "You're the blessed agents. I'm just driving. But for what it's worth?" She fixed Jinho with a look sharp enough to cut steel. "Your 'adaptable' plan is going to get someone killed."
Jinho shrugged, cheerful as ever, as if death was just another pothole in the road. "Probably. But if we're going by the numbers, odds are it won't be me." His flippancy was armor—no point worrying about what he couldn't control.
Narin rolled her eyes, exasperation warring with a grudging respect. "That's not exactly comforting."
"I'm not here to comfort anyone," Jinho said, his voice suddenly quieter, but no less certain. "I'm here to get the Seal and go home." It was the closest he ever got to being vulnerable—admitting, in his own way, that he wanted to survive as much as anyone.
They paid—Narin tossed some cash on the table, quick and practiced, probably straight out of KSID's budget, not that anyone here would ever know or care about the ledger lines in some distant office. They left behind empty bowls and the faint scent of spices, stepping into a world that had already begun to shift from sleepy dawn to the bustling pace of morning. The village was really coming alive now—vendors arranging fruit on carts, kids chasing stray dogs, old women sweeping dust from their stoops. None of them had any idea that a handful of world-saving weirdos had just finished breakfast in their restaurant, plotting the next move in a game that could shatter reality.
Back on the road, deeper into the mountains, the world felt wild and ancient. The jungle pressed in from both sides, green and tangled, as if it might swallow the road whole if given half a chance. The pavement grew rougher with every kilometer—potholes lurking like traps, gravel rattling beneath their tires, even a few washed-out patches where the rains had chewed through the earth. But Narin handled the truck like she'd done this a million times, hands steady even when the wheels threatened to skid.
"Two hours to Ban Pong," she announced, eyes never leaving the twisting road. "Maybe less if we get lucky." Her voice was flat, but there was a hint of challenge there, as if daring fate to prove her wrong.
Jinho leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Are we ever lucky?" The question hung in the air, heavier than it should have been.
"No," Tanaka answered right away, not even a pause for hope.
"Yeah, fair." Jinho let himself sink back, letting the rumble of the engine and the endless green outside the window lull him into a kind of uneasy peace. He watched the trees blur together, thick and mysterious, hiding secrets older than the road itself. Somewhere ahead, someone had stolen a piece of a Primordial Spirit's prison—a Seal powerful enough to change everything if it fell into the wrong hands. And the Obsidian Covenant? They were out there too, always lurking at the edges, almost certainly plotting something world-ending. It was practically their brand at this point.
Inside his head, those three gods were already bickering, their voices threading through his thoughts like an unwelcome radio he couldn't switch off—each one convinced they knew best, each one certain disaster was just around the next bend.
Just another day on the job.
"This is going to be a disaster," the Jade Emperor declared, his tone regal and unyielding. "You'll see."
"Probably," the Phoenix agreed, but there was a note of excitement in her voice, as if chaos was something to savor rather than fear.
"But it'll be fun," the Demon King added, laughter curling around the words. "Don't pretend you're not looking forward to it."
"Fun," Jinho muttered, pressing his forehead to the cool glass of the window. "Right. Let's call it that." He wasn't sure if he was talking to them or himself, but it hardly mattered. He'd learned long ago that sometimes the only way to survive was to pretend the danger was just another game.
The truck rattled over another pothole, jolting them all, and the road stretched on, winding deeper into the unknown. Ban Pong waited ahead—another stop on a journey that felt less like a mission and more like a test, one that none of them were sure they'd pass. But for now, they rolled on, sunlight slanting through the leaves, carrying them toward whatever waited in the mountains—a stolen Seal, a hidden enemy, and the next chapter of a story that only seemed to get stranger the longer it went on.