Seung-ho didn't remember deciding to go home
His legs simply carried him forward.
The city moved around him in fragments—neon signs bleeding into one another, the rumble of passing cars sounding distant and unreal. His breath came shallow, uneven, like his lungs were forgetting how to work properly.
Panic sat heavy in his chest.
Not the sudden kind.
The slow, crushing kind that came when hope had nowhere left to hide.
Every step echoed Death's words back into his mind.
Too late.
There is no going back.
He had imagined—stupidly—that if he walked long enough, if he blended back into the streets he used to know, something would click into place. That the night would end. That he would wake up and everything would feel normal again.
But the city didn't recognize him anymore.
Or maybe… he didn't recognize it.
His hands shook as he shoved them into his pockets.
"I didn't ask for this," he whispered.
No one answered.
The street narrowed ahead, buildings crowding closer together as if the city itself were closing in. The lights grew dimmer. The sounds thinner.
That was when the feeling hit him.
A pressure.
Not supernatural.Not dramatic.
Just… intent.
Seung-ho stopped.
Three figures stepped into the narrow road ahead, blocking his path.
They didn't rush him.Didn't threaten him.
They simply stood there—calm, confident, unhurried.
Hunters.
His heart pounded violently.
One of them tilted his head, studying Seung-ho like a defective product.
"So that's him," the man said. "He doesn't look like much."
Seung-ho clenched his fists. His mouth felt dry.
"Move," he said.
Another man snorted. "Relax. We're just here to confirm something."
The third stepped forward.
Seung-ho's instincts screamed.
He didn't think.
He moved.
His body reacted before his fear could stop it—shoulders twisting, legs pushing forward, everything aligning into a single, desperate strike he'd seen a hundred times in underground videos.
An uppercut.
Clean.Upward.Explosive.
His knuckles connected with the man's jaw.
There was a sharp crack.
The man's eyes went wide as his feet left the ground. His body slammed backward, hitting the pavement hard and going limp instantly.
Silence.
Seung-ho staggered back, breathing hard.
"I… I did it…"
For a heartbeat, hope sparked.
Then agony ripped through his side.
A kick drove into his ribs, knocking the air from his lungs. Another blow followed—his vision flashed white as pain exploded across his face.
He hit the ground hard.
Boots came down on him.
Again.Again.
No hesitation.
No mercy.
He tried to move.
His body refused.
His arms trembled uselessly as another kick crashed into his stomach. He tasted blood.
"Still weak," one of them muttered.
Seung-ho's vision blurred.
The streetlights fractured into fading streaks.
And then—
Nothing.
He woke up curled on his bedroom floor.
The familiar ceiling greeted him like an accusation.
For a long moment, he didn't move.
Didn't breathe properly.
Then the pain came rushing in.
His body ached everywhere. His ribs screamed with every breath. His knuckles were bruised and swollen.
Someone had brought him home.
The thought hit harder than the beating.
They hadn't even considered him worth finishing off.
A broken sound tore from his throat.
He laughed.
Then cried.
Then both.
Tears soaked into the floor as he pressed his forehead against it, shoulders shaking violently.
"I'm pathetic," he whispered. "I can't even die properly."
He stayed there for a long time.
When the tears finally stopped, something cold and sharp remained.
He pushed himself up slowly and stared at his reflection in the dark window.
His eyes looked different.
Hollow.
But burning.
"I won't run anymore," he said quietly."I won't beg.""I won't pretend this didn't happen."
His fingers curled into fists.
"I'll climb," he whispered. "No matter what it takes."
Morning came.
Seung-ho returned to the same small restaurant.
Same table.Same seat.
When Death appeared across from him, Seung-ho didn't hesitate.
"I want to learn how to fight," he said.
Death watched him closely.
"And?" Death asked.
Seung-ho met his gaze, eyes steady despite the fear still crawling in his chest.
"I want revenge."
Silence stretched between them.
Then—
Death smiled.