High above the clouds, the plane finally broke free of the violent turbulence and thunderstorm. The shaking cabin gradually steadied, and as the aisle lights automatically went out, the passengers relaxed their taut nerves and grew drowsy.
Amid a nearly inaudible sound, the tightly sealed cargo hold quietly opened.
A black-clad "air marshal" pulled down his top hat and moved through the dim aisle, his entire face obscured by darkness.
He was back.
Near the front seats connecting economy class to business class, a middle-aged man in a dark wool coat glanced over, slightly relieved. The fingers gripping some hard object inside his clothes slowly loosened.
Strange, why was he alone?
Just as a few doubts surfaced in the middle-aged man's mind, the black-clad "air marshal" raised a hand and discreetly made a strange prayer gesture before him, putting him somewhat at ease.
Could there have been another problem with disposing of the bodies?
The middle-aged man began speculating about the possible complication, deeply dissatisfied with these fellow believers who were anything but professionals.
As the man pondered, the black-clad "air marshal" had already arrived beside him and casually sat in the empty seat next to him, turning slightly as if he wanted to explain the situation.
A subconscious glance made the middle-aged man's pupils contract sharply, jolting him awake.
No! His skin wasn't this pale!
But before he could speak, the hand that had somehow landed on his shoulder instantly numbed his entire body.
At the same time, his heart, struck precisely by some force, suddenly spasmed. His vision went black, and his consciousness sank into boundless chaos.
Watching the hijacker before him, whose physical features and seat number both matched, silently slump sideways like a sleeping passenger, Samael used the dim lighting as cover to search the man