The pain crashes into me like a thousand needles piercing my brain, each one dipped in fire. I scream, collapsing onto a creaking wooden floor, my hands—slender, ink-stained—clawing at my skull as if I can tear the agony out. The Void's punishments grow worse, as if it's feeding on my failures. Jung Woo-sik's body is gone, shot in that Incheon warehouse, Choi Min-kyu's skull crushed under my crowbar. His dying words haunt me: Soo-jin's a ghost, like you. Ask the Shadow. Now I'm someone new, and the memories flood in, a storm of someone else's regrets.I'm Park Ji-hoon, 25, a freelance graphic designer in Seoul's Yeouido district, scraping by on odd jobs and a side hustle selling stolen data. His life unravels in my mind: a dreamer who wanted to be an artist, trapped by debt and a gambling addiction, roped into hacking gigs for the wrong people. Ji-hoon's last memory is a betrayal—a client, a woman with sharp eyes and a cold voice, slipping poison into his coffee. He died here, in his cluttered apartment, choking on his own vomit. The taste lingers in my throat, sour and wrong.I'm Kang Jiwon, and I have ten days to find Park Soo-jin. She's a hacker, tied to Min-soo's exposés, and she knows something about his murder. Lee Dong-hyun's name still burns—a syndicate boss I've chased through four lives—but the Shadow's shadow looms larger now, a codename whispered by a dying man. Min-soo's face flashes—his laugh, his blood in that alley. I grit my teeth, pushing through the pain. The Voice's taunt echoes: Blood demands blood. I've spilled plenty, but it's not enough. Not yet.I stagger to my feet, Ji-hoon's lanky frame unsteady, his worn sneakers scuffing the hardwood. The apartment is a mess—sketchpads, empty soju bottles, a cracked laptop glowing on a desk. Ji-hoon's memories guide me to a hidden USB drive taped under a drawer, loaded with stolen data: bank records, shipping manifests, names. One name stands out: Lee Dong-hyun. My heart skips. Ji-hoon was digging into the syndicate, just like Min-soo. His memories point to a contact—Soo-jin—a hacker he met online, trading info for cash. She's real, and she's close.The laptop pings. A message from an encrypted chat: Ji-hoon, you missed the drop. Explain. —Ghost. Ghost. Soo-jin? My pulse races. I type back, mimicking Ji-hoon's sloppy grammar: Got held up. Where u at? Need to talk. The reply comes fast: Old factory, Mapo-gu, 1 AM. Come alone. No games. It's 10 PM now. Three hours to prepare. I search Ji-hoon's apartment, finding a switchblade in a drawer and a burner phone with texts from "Ghost" about syndicate deals. One mentions the Shadow—a boss above Dong-hyun, untouchable. My blood runs cold. Ji-hoon was scared of this name, scared enough to die for it.I grab the switchblade, USB, and a hoodie, heading into Seoul's neon-lit night. Mapo-gu's industrial sprawl feels like a graveyard, all rusted steel and broken windows. The factory's a crumbling relic, perfect for secrets. I'm early, scoping the place from a shadowed alley. Ji-hoon's instincts scream trap, but Jiwon's rage pushes me forward. Soo-jin knows Min-soo's truth. I need her alive.
The factory's dark, smelling of rust and damp concrete. I move quietly, Ji-hoon's lithe body built for stealth. A figure waits in the central bay, lit by a flickering lantern—a woman, early 20s, short black hair, sharp eyes glinting like knives. Park Soo-jin. She's alone, but I sense eyes in the dark. Ji-hoon's memories know her: brilliant, paranoid, always one step ahead. "Ji-hoon," she says, voice low, "you're late. And you're not acting right." Her hand hovers near her jacket—armed."I need answers," I say, keeping my distance. "Kang Min-soo. The journalist. You worked with him. Who killed him?" Her eyes narrow, and I see it—recognition, suspicion. "How do you know that name?" she snaps. "Ji-hoon wouldn't care." She's sharp, too sharp. My heart pounds. She's already piecing it together.Before I can answer, tires screech outside. Headlights flood the factory, and men pour in—four, armed with bats and knives, syndicate muscle. Soo-jin curses, drawing a pistol. "You led them here!" she hisses, firing at the nearest thug. His chest explodes in red, and he drops, blood pooling. The others charge, and I dive behind a crate, switchblade out. Ji-hoon's reflexes are quick, but Jiwon's rage is quicker.I lunge, slashing a thug's arm, blood spraying like rain. He screams, swinging his bat, but I duck, driving the blade into his thigh. He collapses, blood gushing. Soo-jin's a whirlwind, her shots precise—another thug falls, skull shattered, brains splattering the concrete. The violence is raw, sickening, but I'm numb to it now. Min-soo's face drives me. Two left. One swings a knife at Soo-jin; she dodges, but he grazes her side, blood staining her jacket. I tackle him, my blade finding his throat. Blood gurgles, hot and sticky, coating my hands.The last thug grabs me from behind, his arm around my neck. I choke, vision blurring, but Soo-jin fires, the bullet tearing through his shoulder. He drops me, and I finish him, stabbing until he's still, blood pooling under us. The factory's a slaughterhouse—four bodies, blood everywhere, the air thick with death.Soo-jin's panting, clutching her side, eyes locked on me. "You're not Ji-hoon," she says, gun raised. "Who are you?" My heart stops. She knows. I can't lie, not now. "I'm Kang Jiwon," I say, voice raw. "Min-soo's brother. I… come back. Every time I die. I have to find his killer." Her eyes widen, but she doesn't shoot. "Min-soo was my friend," she says, voice breaking. "He dug into the Circle—a network of syndicate bosses, politicians. The Shadow runs it. Dong-hyun's just a pawn."A trapdoor creaks behind us—more men. I shove Soo-jin behind a crate as bullets fly, one catching my leg. Blood pours, pain searing. I return fire with a gun from a dead thug, hitting one, his chest blooming red. Soo-jin grabs my arm. "Run!" We sprint, weaving through crates, but a shot hits my back, and I fall, blood filling my lungs. Day six. Soo-jin kneels beside me, horrified. "Jiwon… you're telling the truth," she whispers. I choke out, "Find… the Shadow." The world fades, her face the last thing I see.
The Void swallows me, red and pulsing, hotter than ever. The Voice is there, its tone mocking, cruel. "Five lives, Jiwon. Five failures. Park Soo-jin lives. The Shadow waits. Will you break?" I try to scream, but my voice is gone. Pain tears through me, worse than death. "Blood demands blood," it hisses, and I'm falling—I wake in a new body, head splitting, pain like knives in my brain. I'm in a Seoul alley, the stench of garbage thick. Soo-jin's words burn: The Circle. The Shadow. She's alive, and she knows my secret—my first ally, but a dangerous one. The Shadow's real, and the Circle feels bigger, darker. Min-soo's killer is out there, and I'm closer than ever. But Soo-jin's suspicion means I can't hide anymore.