Ten meters—
It's a very interesting distance.
Laid out flat on the ground, it's a distance a person can cover in a brisk two- or three-second sprint.
But turn it vertically, and a person will still consume it in roughly the same one or two seconds.
It's a simple physics problem involving velocity and gravity. But if you broaden the conditions—if you magnify the significance of the "human" variable in the equation—it ceases to be a simple problem.
Because jumping from that height isn't an equation. It's suicide.
A ten-meter drop is more than enough to shatter bones, inflict incurable, lifelong trauma, or simply snap a neck and end a life on the spot.
And what is the actual probability of standing at that height, leaping, and landing flawlessly on a target moving at fifty kilometers per hour?
What are the consequences of failure?
Honestly... no matter how impulsive a person is, when they stand on the precipice, looking down from a terrifying height, adrenaline has a funny way of making them suddenly very calm. It forces them to think carefully. To hesitate. To feel regret.
Pacing... hovering... the hyper-active brain will frantically begin to reflect, and even fantasize.
Just regret it... In the face of death, taking a step back isn't shameful.
Really, it isn't.
Ten meters... Shu, that's thirty feet in the air.
There's no swimming pool down there. There's no inflatable stunt cushion waiting to catch you.
Your life has absolutely zero margin for error. If you jump, there is no 'try again.'
If your landing angle is off by even a single degree, the impact to your spine will upgrade from 'never walking again' to 'never waking up.'
And the roof of a van isn't flat. It's curved. It has roof racks and reinforcing ribs.
When you smash into it, your body will bounce. You will slide. You will roll right off the edge.
When you fall, your head might crack against the asphalt. Your neck might hit the guardrail. Your hands might be sliced open by the jagged metal of a broken roof rack.
You'll leave a smear of blood across the roof before you finally hit the road.
And then what?
The asphalt is colder than your body temperature. You'll feel the cold first, and then the agonizing pain.
Or maybe the pain will never come. Because you'll be dead before you hit the ground.
Your neck will bend at a grotesque angle. Your vertebrae will snap. The connection between your brain and your body will be severed in an instant.
You won't feel the cold. You won't feel the pain. You won't feel the gravel biting into the freshly healed wounds on your palms.
You won't feel anything at all.
...
So... go back. Go back, pick up your phone, and strap yourself back into your safety belt. Go back and hide in that metal shell. It will take you back to where you belong.
Then you'll be 'safe.'
That's what everyone wants to see.
...
The cold wind filled his lungs. The white van approached from the distance, growing larger and larger. In a few seconds, it would pass directly beneath him and vanish in the blink of an eye...
Just like the setting sun.
Suddenly, Shu let out a soft exhale. His racing heart, his taut nerves... in that single moment, they all vanished.
Only he could hear his own voice.
"Shu..."
"Jump!"
——
A sense of weightlessness... exactly like the exhilarating release after diving off a bungee platform.
Gravity gently pulled him exactly where he was meant to go. He had known this all along.
But—
I know exactly what I'm doing. I know the consequences, the impact of my actions...
And I have never hesitated.
I will never regret it!!
——
Shu threw himself off the edge of the elevated expressway. His body traced a sharp arc through the air as he plummeted toward the road below!
The violent sensation of freefall tore at his consciousness. He threw his arms up, curled his body into a ball, and forcefully contorted himself mid-air, preparing his side to absorb the impending, catastrophic impact.
Taking that step was the last active choice he could make.
As for the rest...
Trust yourself!
KRAAAANG—!!!
The deafening shriek of violently buckling metal and the bone-rattling thud of a massive impact erupted simultaneously. The sheer momentum from the fall ripped all control from Shu's body. He bounced and tumbled, the world spinning in a violent blur.
One more half-roll, and he would pitch right off the roof and smash into the unforgiving asphalt.
But in that split second, the arm that hadn't taken the brunt of the impact shot out. His hand clamped onto the twisted, partially sheared metal of the van's luggage rack!
The jagged metal immediately sliced a deep gash into his palm. The agonizing, bone-deep pain acted like a stimulant, sharpening his focus just enough to slam his other hand onto the rack, locking his grip!
He didn't have a second chance!
Inside the van, the hoodie-wearing man was humming a cheerful tune, glancing smugly at the bulging black canvas bag on the passenger seat. He was marveling at his own good luck.
He was approaching the reservoir. Once he reached the water's edge, he'd ditch the van, hop on a boat across the lake, and vanish without a trace.
Even if the owner called the cops later, they'd never track him down. And with the cash he'd get from selling this expensive purebred, he'd be living the good life...
KRAAAANG—!!
A massive section of the roof suddenly caved inward. Something incredibly heavy had plummeted from the sky and smashed directly onto the van.
The driver shrieked in terror. He jerked the steering wheel wildly, his leg locking straight out of sheer panic and mashing the accelerator to the floor.
A moment later, he realized his mistake, scrambled to slam his foot on the brake, and cursed violently as he twisted around to look out the back window. He wanted to see what kind of bastard had thrown something off the overpass to ruin his car.
But the road behind him was completely empty. It was as if the massive dent in his roof was a hallucination.
Yet, when he looked up, the caved-in ceiling was undeniably real... Did whatever hit me not fall off?
Maybe... I should pull over and see what—
He rolled down the window and stuck his head out, trying to look up at the roof.
Before he could even angle his eyes upward, a dark shadow swung down from the top of the van.
A bloodied fist, wrapped tightly in a jacket, smashed directly into his face!!
The brutal strike instantly incapacitated the driver. His body seized in a chaotic string of reflex reactions—his leg jammed the accelerator again, and his hands flailed wildly, dragging the steering wheel with them.
Under the panicked, erratic control, the van veered sharply off course, careening straight toward the guardrail by the side of the road.
BOOM—!
Before Shu could throw a second punch, the speeding van slammed head-on into the metal barrier.
The violent impact was the straw that broke the camel's back. The vehicle flipped, rolling violently down the shoulder, scattering parts and debris in its wake.
Shu, whose grip had already been failing, was instantly violently thrown from the tumbling vehicle. He crashed hard onto the ground a short distance away, his vision immediately going black at the edges.
Inside the wreckage, the deployed airbags and the locking seatbelt saved the hoodie-wearing man's life, though the sheer trauma of the crash left him teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.
After the horrific, deafening noise of the crash finally subsided, a brief, eerie silence fell over the desolate stretch of road.