Prologue: Death and New Life

***

The raindrops descended with a deafening thunder, pounding relentlessly on the tile roof of the old house. Each impact echoed through the worn wooden walls, flooding the atmosphere with the constant whisper of water.

Inside, in the gloom, a young man in his thirties sat in a worn chair. His figure was silhouetted against the weak light filtering in from the window, barely illuminating the contours of his face. White wireless headphones adorned his ears, enveloping him in a bubble of sound that isolated him from the outside world. With each beat of the music, his head swayed in a rhythmic motion, as if he were following the beat of a secret melody.

The atmosphere was charged with a tense calm, broken only by the constant rumbling of the rain outside, which seemed to want to infiltrate the interior of the abandoned dwelling.

Suddenly, the young man's hands move quickly to a back pocket of his pants, pulling out a gleaming pistol, he quickly points it at the wooden wall and fires twice.

"Aggh, damn it" A thick voice is clearly heard, following the young man's shots.

The young man fixes his gaze on the door wearily and mocking words come from his lips.

"So the organization is finally going to get rid of me, eh, what little respect they have for sending scumbags like you."

"Haha, Mikael, you look pretty relaxed for the day of your death," mocks the relaxed and elegant voice from the shadows, flowing like a deadly whisper behind Mikael.

Feeling the cold of the cannon press against his temple, Mikael exhales a long sigh, his breath coming in ragged gasps from the palpable tension in the air. "Uh, so they sent you, Lucien," he replies with apparent calm, his voice ringing with a hint of resignation and acceptance. "Now I don't feel so bad, dying by your hands is quite flattering." The words, laden with subtle sarcasm.

Looking at the young man sitting across from him with a grim expression, Lucien lets out a bitter smile. "Why are you doing this, Mikael? You know that leaving the organization is tantamount to seeking to get yourself killed," he says in a voice cracked by the sadness seeping into his words.

Mikael, undeterred, lets out a tired laugh, as if carrying the weight of countless internal battles on his shoulders. "I got tired of killing people," he confesses with sincerity, his voice laden with heartfelt longing. "I got tired of pretending to be someone I'm not, just to take out a fat guy with a lot of money. I got tired of this life, I just want to have a normal life, cook, do what I like... maybe have a wife, a child... just live." In his voice you can feel the intensity of the dreams and hopes that have been burning in his heart for so long.

"Hahh, I understand, Mikael," Lucien replies with a mixture of compassion and resignation. "For being the only person who could have been on par with me, I'll give you a painless death." Pulling a small bean-sized pill from his pocket, he hands it to Mikael with a serene but meaning-laden gesture.

With surprising calm, Mikael takes the pill between his fingers, weighing its fate in the palm of his hand. His eyes glide briefly over the small object before he lets out a dry chuckle, as if he has accepted his fate with resignation.

Without hesitation, with a quick and precise gesture, Mikael brings the pill to his lips and swallows it without hesitation. The gesture is almost mechanical, as if he had replayed that action countless times in his mind before it became reality.

"I hope that, in your next life, you will fulfill your wishes, Mika," Lucien murmurs with a mixture of respect and sadness in his voice, as he watches helplessly as life leaves Mikael's body. The young man, now motionless, seems to have become a wax figure, his wishes and dreams suspended in the air along with his last breath.

With a piercing gaze, Lucien calmly observed the six people who burst into the room, their presence interrupting the stillness that had reigned moments before. In an instant, his training and lethal skills kicked into action. With swift and precise movements, he unleashed a deadly dance, eliminating each intruder without mercy. The dull sound of bodies hitting the floor echoed through the room, creating an atmosphere charged with tension and horror.

With a cigarette between his fingers, he looked out into the void with a grim expression. "I guess you would have liked to at least smoke your last cigarette, Mika," he muttered to himself before disappearing into the rainy night.

***

The tall, dark-haired man, with dyed white hair and light blue eyes, lay on his bed, his body covered in a thin layer of sweat. His agitated breathing echoed in the room, like an echo of his internal struggle. Suddenly, her eyes opened in surprise and confusion, reflecting a look lost in the labyrinth of her mind.

Her light blue eyes, normally serene, now showed a glint of anxiety and fear. As he struggled to regain control of his breathing, a sense of bewilderment came over him, as if he were trapped in a dream from which he could not escape.

The earrings in his ears glistened faintly in the dim light of the room, while the tattoos on his skin told silent stories of a tumultuous past.

"Where am I?"