In the heart of Seoul, where neon lights mask the rot beneath, where skyscrapers scrape the sky as if to defy the heavens themselves, lived a man named Jae-Hyun Carter.
Twenty-six years old. A man of two worlds - Korean mother, American father. But in this city, he was neither Korean enough nor foreign enough. Just... enough to survive.
His days were a blur, stuck in the gray, fluorescent hellscape of MiraiTech Corporation, a soulless tech giant built on exploitation and faceless labor.
They called it opportunity. He called it enslavement.
He wasn't ambitious.
He was desperate.
Desperate to keep his family afloat. His once-proud father, David Carter, a US Army veteran who had fought in the brief, bloody skirmish when the two Koreas danced on the edge of annihilation, now sat broken in a rusting wheelchair - paralyzed from the waist down, his spirit long gone. The bullet lodged near his spine might've spared his life, but it took everything else.
Jae-Hyun's Korean mother, Yoon-ji, worked night shifts at a supermarket before illness pinned her to bed. And his younger half-brothers - Min-su and Eli - were still in high school, born into the wreckage of a family that never had a chance to heal.
He didn't want riches.
Just a raise. A small, damn raise.
After three years of breaking himself for MiraiTech—pulling all-nighters, debugging code for projects he never got credit for, enduring the smug smirks of managers who took his work and put their names on it - he had finally asked for a promotion.
"No."
That was it. No explanation. No review. No consideration.
Just "No."
He stared blankly at his superior, a corporate drone named Mr. Han, whose Rolex cost more than Jae-Hyun's entire savings.
"You're a valuable asset, Carter," Han said with a rehearsed grin. "But there are... company metrics. Maybe next year."
Next year.
Next. Fucking. Year.
He walked out of the glass tower as the city lights flickered on, swallowed by shadows and traffic noise. His phone buzzed. Min-su had sent him a text.
"Hyung, can we order pizza tonight? Mom's feeling a bit better. Movie night?"
He replied with a thumbs-up emoji. His hands trembled.
The rage had taken root.
The apartment was dark when he got home. Odd. He had told them he'd be late, but the place was always warm, noisy. He stepped inside, setting his briefcase down by the door.
"Mom?"
No answer.
A smell hit him.
Burnt copper. Rot.
He flicked the lights on - and froze.
The hallway walls were painted in blood.
Handprints. Smears. Drag marks.
His breath hitched as he stepped forward, the leather soles of his shoes sticking to the tacky floor. He reached the living room - and fell to his knees.
His mother lay sprawled on the couch, naked, her body a canvas of brutality. Bruises darkened her neck. Her eyes were still open, empty.
"No…"
He turned. His father's wheelchair was toppled. His head - severed, placed on a plate like a twisted offering.
Min-su. Eli.
He staggered toward the bedrooms.
Min-su's body was hung on the wall, like a grotesque piece of art, limbs hacked off, eyes gouged. Eli was found in the closet - charred, as if someone had poured gasoline on him and watched.
Jae-Hyun fell to the floor, his body convulsing.
He couldn't even scream.
Then - footsteps.
Heavy. Confident.
From behind. A whisper:
"Perfect timing."
Pain.
A white-hot flash as something pierced his neck. A choke. A gasp. Darkness.
...
...
...
...
It seemed this was not the end of life of Jae - Hyun Carter.
Death is supposed to be peaceful.
But for Jae-Hyun Carter, it was... static.
A distant hum. Like wires sizzling underwater. Then—
[SYSTEM INITIATING…]
[HOST HAS BEEN SUCCESSFULLY REJUVENATED.]
[PROTOCOL: RETRIBUTION AND VENGEANCE.]
His eyes shot open.
Cold. Bright white light. The smell of antiseptic.
He was lying on a morgue slab. Naked. A tag still attached to his toe: Unidentified Male, approx. 25–30, cause of death: homicide.
He sat up.
Breath trembling. Muscles twitching. No wounds.
"What... the hell…"
[WELCOME, JAE-HYUN CARTER.]