January 2nd, 2027
At the morgue - 10:13 PM
He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think.
Jae-Hyun Carter lay on the cold slab of the morgue, his limbs stiff, his breath shallow, his heart... beating? His mind was clouded with panic and disbelief.
Around him, metallic trays, white walls, and the sterile scent of antiseptics surrounded his barely conscious form. Cold sweat ran down his back. His eyes fluttered open.
Was this a nightmare?
No.
He could feel the pain. The ache in his chest. The unbearable, suffocating weight pressing on his soul. The horror of it all. He remembered it.
Everything.
His mother - her lifeless eyes, the bruises, the humiliation before death.
His father - decapitated, the man who once stood tall in a battlefield, now a headless memory.
His two younger half-brothers - unrecognizable. Limbless. Burnt. Screaming voices - he could still hear them.
His hands trembled as he stared at them. They were shaking. Covered in dried blood. Not his. Theirs. His family's.
Then the message.
[SYSTEM INITIATING]
HOST HAS BEEN SUCCESSFULLY REJUVENATED
PROTOCOL: RETRIBUTION AND VENGEANCE
It had echoed in his mind like a divine judgment. Cold. Mechanical. Inevitable.
"What... the fuck?" he croaked, voice hoarse and dry. The sound of his own voice was foreign to him. It had the grit of a man dragged through the afterlife.
Before he could process more, he heard the sound.
Footsteps.
Rapid. Coming from the far end of the hall. Echoing.
Panic seized him. They know I'm dead. I should be dead.
His instincts screamed.
Get out.
He leaped from the steel slab, muscles screaming in protest. He was completely naked, skin pale and covered in small red patches from where he'd bled out.
But he didn't care. He couldn't afford to care. He stumbled around the morgue in the half-dark, trying not to hyperventilate.
The cold bit at his skin, but he pushed forward, opening every drawer and locker until he found a bag of donated clothes - an old hospital policy for corpses with no family. Ironically, it now saved his modesty. A black hoodie, oversized cargo pants, and a pair of dusty sneakers.
He looked in the mirror.
Sunken eyes. Pale skin. Bruised neck.
Dead man walking.
He slipped out of the morgue through the back emergency exit, sticking to the shadows of the Seoul alleyways. The night was cold.
People walked by. Neon lights shimmered on wet pavement. The city was still alive, unaware that something had just come back from the dead.
Jae-Hyun stumbled through the city like a drunken ghost. Disoriented. Muttering to himself. A passerby bumped into him and muttered under their breath, "Drugged-out junkie."
He ignored them.
He had only one destination.
Home.
The streets blurred. Every traffic light. Every honking horn. Every distant conversation sounded distorted - as if he were stuck in a different frequency of existence. A ghost in his own world.
When he reached his apartment complex, he halted.
Police tape.
Yellow. Loud. Intrusive.
"DO NOT CROSS – POLICE INVESTIGATION IN PROGRESS"
It fluttered in the night wind.
He stepped forward anyway.
Gently, almost reverently, he lifted the tape and slipped underneath it. No one saw him. Not a soul. His heart pounded harder with each step as he approached the front door - splintered and stained.
He pushed it open.
The stench hit him first. Blood. Smoke. Burned flesh. Death.
The apartment was a war zone.
Furniture overturned. Walls blood-splattered. The family photos… shattered. A cracked picture frame of his younger brother smiling during a summer trip lay broken on the ground, glass shards glittering like tears.
He stepped inside.
He dropped to his knees.
And it all came crashing down.
Grief slammed into him like a collapsing building.
He screamed. He howled. The cry of a wounded animal. Raw. Unfiltered.
Tears poured from his eyes. He clawed at the floor like he could dig into the past and rip them out of death's grip. His fists pounded the wooden boards until blood smeared across his knuckles.
"I'm sorry… I wasn't here. I wasn't here - why - WHY!"
He curled up into a ball and sobbed. For minutes. For hours. Time didn't exist anymore.
Then, as if something cracked deep within him…
The grief turned.
Into hate.
Into wrath.
Into the purest desire for vengeance.
His tear-soaked face contorted. His trembling lips tightened. His breathing slowed, deepened. He stood up, shaking.
He walked to the wall, clenched his fist, and without thinking -
PUNCHED.
A loud CRACK split the silence. The wall split open. Drywall and splinters flew out.
Jae-Hyun stumbled backward in shock.
"What the…?"
He looked at his fist. No pain. No blood. Only strength.
[SYSTEM DETECTED: PHYSICAL IMPROVEMENT 1.25% COMPLETE]
He spun around.
The glowing words materialized in front of him like a hologram. No sound. Just visual text.
Then another message.
[SYSTEM REBOOT COMPLETE]
[PROTOCOL ACTIVATED: TRAINING INITIATED]
[DAY 1 TASKS:]
DO 50 PUSH-UPS
LIFT HEAVY OBJECTS (10 REPS)
LEARN A SINGLE MARTIAL ARTS MOVE
CONSUME A HIGH-PROTEIN MEAL
[TIME REMAINING: 24 HOURS]
[WARNING: FAILURE TO COMPLETE TASKS WILL RESULT IN SYSTEM PENALTY]
He blinked at the floating words.
"What the hell is this... some kind of twisted hallucination?"
He wiped the sweat off his brow.
"I must've been drugged. Before they killed me… maybe they did something. Some experimental trip."
He backed away from the system text.
"I'm not doing this. Screw this."
He stormed toward the kitchen - what was left of it - and poured himself a glass of water with trembling hands.
His stomach growled.
He found an old protein bar that had survived the carnage, still sealed in its wrapper. He ripped it open and took a bite. His mind was a haze.
"I'm going insane. This… this isn't real."
But the memory of his fist cracking the wall like it was cardboard -
That was real.
He stared at his hands again.
They were changing. Stronger. Veins more prominent. Joints firmer.
[SYSTEM: 50 PUSH-UPS REMAINING - TIME: 23:42:17]
He sighed. Looked at the ground.
"I'm doing push-ups now? This is bullshit…"
But some deep, primal part of him - a whisper from within - told him to obey.
Something was awakening.
Something ancient. Vengeful. Relentless.
He dropped to the floor.
And he started to push.