The neon lights of Seoul flickered in the distance, casting eerie reflections onto the wet pavement. Rain drizzled down from the blackened sky, washing away the blood that pooled beneath me. My body refused to move, my limbs heavy as if chains bound me to the ground. Each breath came out ragged, burning my throat.
Footsteps echoed through the alley, slow and deliberate. The sound of leather boots splashing against the puddles sent a chill down my spine. I forced my eyes open, though my vision was blurred by blood trickling down my forehead.
And there he stood.
The man who took everything from me. The murderer of my family. My killer.
Dressed in a sleek black suit, he towered over me like a reaper, his presence suffocating. His sharp, chiseled features were illuminated under the dim streetlight, his dark eyes holding no emotion. In one hand, he held a bloodstained knife. My blood.
"What a shame." His deep, indifferent voice sliced through the rain. "If only you hadn't gotten in my way, you might have lived a little longer."
I wanted to scream, to curse him, to ask why. But my throat was too dry, my voice a mere whisper lost in the downpour.
Memories flashed before my eyes.
My mother's warm smile as she prepared breakfast.
My father's strong hands as he ruffled my hair.
My younger sister's laughter, full of life.
Now, all gone. Stolen from me in a single night.
A sharp pain spread through my chest as I struggled to move. My fingers twitched, but the strength in my body had long since faded. He had made sure of that.
I was dying.
But I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me beg.
With the last ounce of energy I had left, I glared up at him. My lips curled into a smirk, blood seeping between my teeth.
"You think... this is over?" My voice was hoarse, barely audible over the storm.
For the first time, his expression shifted. A flicker of amusement, or perhaps curiosity.
"Oh?" He crouched down, leveling his gaze with mine. "Even at death's door, you're still this defiant? I admire that."
He pressed the tip of his knife against my chest, right where my heart should be. A cruel smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"But it's too late."
Pain.
A sharp, unbearable agony exploded in my chest. My body convulsed, my vision darkening at the edges.
So this was how it ended.
Not with justice. Not with revenge.
But with death.
---
Or so I thought.
---
When I opened my eyes again, the first thing I noticed was warmth.
Not the cold, suffocating rain. Not the biting pain of my wounds.
Just warmth.
I gasped, my body jerking upright as I sucked in a breath—clear, steady. My hands trembled as I touched my chest. No wound. No blood.
Panic surged through me as I scanned my surroundings.
A dimly lit room. Traditional Korean-style decor. Wooden furniture. A large, ornate mirror across from me.
I stumbled out of bed, my feet unsteady. My heart pounded as I approached the mirror, dread coiling in my stomach.
And then I saw him.
Not me.
Him.
The reflection staring back wasn't my own.
It was someone else.
Short, jet-black hair. Cold, sharp eyes. A lean but muscular frame. The face of a stranger.
No.
Not just any stranger.
A name surfaced in my mind, unbidden. A name I had heard countless times before.
The name of one of his men.
One of his most loyal subordinates.
The right-hand man of the bastard who murdered me.
I had been reborn as his servant.
My hands clenched into fists, nails digging into my palms.
This wasn't over.
Not by a long shot.
I stumbled backward, my breathing ragged as I clutched my chest. The face in the mirror—his face—stared back at me, cold and unfamiliar. My heart pounded in my chest, the rhythm erratic as my mind reeled from the impossible truth.
I was supposed to be dead.
I felt myself die.
Yet here I was, standing in a body that was not my own.
I forced myself to take slow, deep breaths, trying to suppress the rising panic. The room around me was unfamiliar yet unsettlingly luxurious. Dark wooden walls, a neatly arranged desk with stacks of documents, and a bookshelf lined with expensive-looking tomes. Everything screamed wealth and power.
I turned my gaze back to the mirror, my fingers trembling as I traced the contours of my new face.
Jang Hyun-woo.
The name hit me like a sledgehammer. I knew this man. He wasn't just some random subordinate. He was his right-hand man. The trusted confidant of the bastard who had slaughtered my family and ended my life.
Memories that were not my own surged through my mind.
Orders given. Blood spilled. Secrets shared in hushed whispers.
I saw glimpses of people I never knew, conversations I never had, decisions I never made. It was overwhelming, a flood of information crashing into me all at once.
This body, this identity—he was a killer. A ruthless enforcer. The kind of man I had once despised.
I clenched my fists, trying to steady myself.
Was this some kind of cruel joke?
Had fate decided that dying wasn't enough? That I had to become one of them?
My legs felt weak, but I forced myself to stand. This wasn't the time to lose control. If I had really taken over Hyun-woo's body, that meant—
"Fuck."
A sharp knock on the door made me freeze.
"Hyun-woo, are you awake?" A voice called from the other side.
I recognized it immediately.
Kang Ji-ho.
Another high-ranking member of the organization. A man just as dangerous as Hyun-woo himself.
I swallowed hard, pushing away my panic. If I hesitated for even a second, he would suspect something was wrong.
"Yeah," I said, my voice rougher than I intended.
The door opened, and Kang Ji-ho stepped inside, his sharp gaze sweeping over me. He was a tall man, dressed in a fitted suit, his dark eyes unreadable. His presence alone carried an air of authority, a reminder of the brutal world I had been thrust into.
"Boss wants to see you."
I nodded, forcing myself to remain calm. Boss. That could only mean one person.
Him.
The man who destroyed my life.
I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms.
This was my chance.
A twisted fate had brought me back, thrown me into the den of the very man I swore to kill.
I didn't know how or why I was given this second life, but one thing was clear.
I would not waste it.
I would make him pay.
With a slow breath, I stepped forward, wearing the mask of Jang Hyun-woo.
The hunt had begun.