99 Lives of Vengeance

I'm Kang Jiwon, and I'm screaming. My head feels like it's being split open with a cleaver, pain searing through every nerve as if someone's pouring molten iron into my skull. I claw at my temples, collapsing to my knees on cold asphalt, the stench of blood and garbage choking my lungs. Where am I? This isn't home. This isn't the hospital bed where I last saw Min-soo, his chest stitched with knife wounds, his eyes glassy but still smiling at me. My brother. My only family. Dead.The pain ebbs, and a flood of memories crashes in—not mine. I'm in someone else's body. Kim Tae-ho, 19, a street punk with a rap sheet for petty theft. I see his life: a drunk father, a runaway mother, nights spent dodging gang recruiters in Seoul's underbelly. His last memory is a knife to the gut in this alley, blood pooling under him as his vision faded. Now I'm here, in his skin, his torn jacket sticking to my sweat-soaked back. I touch my face—unfamiliar scars, a crooked nose. My hands tremble, still Jiwon's hands in my mind, but not in reality.Ten days. That's what the Voice told me. Ten days to find Min-soo's killer, or I die again. And again. Ninety-nine times.It started three days ago. Min-soo and I were walking home from his favorite ramen shop in Hongdae. He was laughing, telling me about his latest article—a bombshell on a human trafficking ring tied to politicians. "Jiwon," he said, ruffling my hair, "you gotta live big, okay? Don't let fear stop you." I grinned, too naive to sense the danger. Then the alley. Shadows moved fast—three men, masked, knives glinting under streetlights. Min-soo shoved me behind a dumpster. "Run!" he yelled. I didn't. I couldn't. I lunged at one of them, a scrawny kid with no fighting skills, and felt a blade rip through my stomach. The last thing I saw was Min-soo's body hitting the ground, blood spraying like rain.Then darkness. Not death, not quite. A void, red and pulsing, like the inside of a beating heart. The Voice spoke, low and grating, like stones grinding together. "Kang Jiwon," it said, "your brother's soul cries for justice. You have 99 lives to find his killer. Ten days each. Fail, and you return here. Succeed, and you're free." I tried to scream, to ask who it was, but my voice was gone. "The price is blood," it whispered. "Yours or theirs."I woke up in Kim Tae-ho's body, head splitting, memories flooding. Now I'm here, in this alley, with Tae-ho's switchblade in my pocket and a fire in my chest. Min-soo's killer is out there, and I'll tear Seoul apart to find them.I stumble out of the alley, legs shaky, Tae-ho's memories guiding me to a rundown bar in Itaewon where he hung out. The neon sign flickers: Red Dog. Inside, it's a haze of cigarette smoke and cheap soju. Thugs eye me—Tae-ho's face is known here. I spot a guy in the corner, broad shoulders, snake tattoo curling up his neck. Tae-ho's memories scream: Park Jun-seo, local enforcer. Stabbed me over a debt. My heart pounds. Not Min-soo's killer, but a start.I approach, keeping my voice steady. "Jun-seo. We need to talk." He smirks, cracking his knuckles. "Tae-ho, you're supposed to be dead." I grip the switchblade in my pocket, my hands clammy. I'm not a fighter, not yet. But rage burns hotter than fear. "Who runs the gangs around here?" I ask. "Who's big enough to order a hit on a journalist?"His smirk fades. "You're asking for a second funeral, kid." He lunges, faster than I expect, and his fist slams into my jaw. I hit the floor, tasting blood. The bar erupts—chairs crash, bottles shatter. I roll, dodging a kick, and flick open the switchblade. Tae-ho's muscle memory takes over, and I slash his thigh. Blood sprays, hot and sticky, and he roars. The crowd cheers, thinking it's just another brawl.Jun-seo grabs a broken bottle, and I see my mistake. I'm not ready for this. He charges, and the glass rips into my side. Pain explodes, but I'm still moving, driven by Min-soo's face in my mind. I tackle him, stabbing wildly, blood coating my hands. His screams gurgle as I hit something vital. He collapses, and the bar goes silent.I stagger out, clutching my side, blood soaking Tae-ho's jacket. Tae-ho's memories point to a name: Lee Dong-hyun, a mid-level syndicate boss who might know about Min-soo's hit. I have nine days left. I limp to a safehouse Tae-ho used, a dingy apartment in Mapo-gu. My vision blurs—blood loss. I bandage the wound, but it's deep. Too deep.By day five, infection sets in. Fever racks me, and I'm too weak to chase Dong-hyun. I curse myself, Min-soo, the Voice. On day seven, I collapse, the world fading. As I die, the Void returns. The Voice hums, amused. "Failure number one. Learn, Jiwon. Blood demands blood."