"How many times have I died?"
A flicker of static. Numbers spiral endlessly: 112934793214719497237472749127@@!$$@%@@#%@36♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️.
"Will I get a happy ending?"
A voice—distant, detached, neither cruel nor kind.
"...Your choice will decide it."
Jungyu Seehan stood in the center of the bloodstained suite. His black eyes darted through the empty space, searching. Footsteps echoed. But there was no shadow. Only the dim glow of a flickering light bulb above his head.
His body was riddled with holes. Fresh wounds, old wounds. The scent of iron thickened the air.
BANG!
A bullet tore through his skull.
Darkness.
Then—
Restart.
The light bulb flickered back on. His body was whole again. The gunfire resumed.
BANG!
Darkness.
Restart.
Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again.
Time had no meaning. Pain had no end.
Was this punishment? A test? A nightmare? Or something worse?
Seehan exhaled. Blood dripped from his lips. His fingers twitched. The cycle repeated, but something within him shifted.
Maybe this time—maybe this loop—he could break free.