The forest's breath was hushed in the dead of night, only the soft rustle of leaves and the chorus of insects serving as a backdrop. Atop a high cliff overlooking the shadowed city, Death stood still, as if part of the darkness itself. His eyes beneath the mask were fixed on a distant target—the mansion of a "Crooked General," a trafficker of both drugs, weapons, and humans.
"Are you sure you want to start a new life again?" his grandfather's voice crackled through the comms.
"...If anyone else has to suffer like May did, as her brother, I will never stand idly by," Death replied flatly.
"Then finish it... and come home."
The infiltration began in the dead of night. Death's form flowed with the shadows, like a specter of death itself. He moved past two layers of high-security walls with precise, silent movements, so quiet not even the guard dogs dared to bark.
Inside the mansion, dim lights illuminated the luxurious hall. A portly man in a military uniform sat drinking whiskey on a central sofa, surrounded by heavily armed subordinates.
Death hid behind a velvet curtain. He took a deep breath before lunging out swiftly.
Bang!
The first volley of bullets took down two gunmen before they could react. He rolled behind a wall, threw a knife at a third target, then leaped to kick a fourth crashing onto a table. The sound of shattering glass echoed.
The mansion's internal sirens blared. The sound of dozens of mercenaries rushing towards him grew louder.
Death pulled a flashbang from his belt, throwing it before dashing through the disorienting white smoke. He swept through the room, eliminating targets with cold, ruthless efficiency, his mastery of both combat arts and weaponry almost unbelievable.
When the gunfire ceased, only still bodies littered the mansion. The General, the mastermind, leaned against a wall, blood gushing from his shoulder.
"Who... are you..." he stammered.
Death slowly removed his mask, revealing a cold, impassive face.
"I'm no one... Just a brother who doesn't want to see anyone else become a victim like his sister."
That night, the anti-trafficking police received all the information from an "anonymous source," along with evidence of human and drug trafficking. The next day's headlines screamed: "Human Trafficking Ring Decimated, Mastermind Arrested with Solid Evidence."
But no one knew who sent the information. No one saw the face of the "shadow" that erased evil in the darkness.
One week later – Chiang Mai
Warm morning sunlight filled the old wooden house. May was packing her clothes, preparing to leave for her studies. She turned to her brother, who was gazing out the window.
"Are you going somewhere again?" she asked softly.
Death turned, his eyes calm and serene.
"Not anymore... I want to spend the time I have left with the family I have left."
May smiled, tears welling in her eyes, before walking over to hug him again.
Their grandfather came to stand beside them, one hand gently patting Death's shoulder.
"It's over, isn't it, grandson..."
Death nodded slowly, his eyes as tranquil as still water.
That night, he wrote a letter, placing it under his pillow.
"If I had died in that fight, there would be no regrets. But if I survived… I will no longer live the rest of my life in the shadows. Because the shadows have no home, no sister, no heart."
And tomorrow...
A brother would walk his sister to the train with a smile, not as "Death," but as "Kay."
Morning at Chiang Mai train station. A station bustling with people, the sound of steel wheels grinding on tracks, announcements, laughter, and farewells. Everything seemed to mark a new beginning.
Death—or his real name, "Kay"—wore a simple shirt and plain jeans, an unfamiliar sight for someone used to bulletproof vests, masks, and the scent of blood.
May stood beside him, dressed in her brand-new medical student uniform, her suitcase by her side. She turned to her brother and smiled.
"You don't look like an assassin today."
Death chuckled softly. "Well, I don't want to be an assassin anymore."
The train announcement sounded. May picked up her suitcase and turned to hug him tightly.
"You'll be okay, right..."
"I promise," he replied, before letting go and watching his sister board the train.
Two hours later – The rooftop of an apartment building in the city.
Death sat alone in silence, the wind gently rustling his shirt. He stared at the mobile phone in his hand.
A message from his grandfather:
"Be careful. They might not be finished with just that mansion."
He glanced at a file beside him. It contained a picture of a pale-skinned man in a suit, with sharp, narrow eyes, and a "snake entwined around a heart" tattoo on the back of his hand.
"Viktor Crane" – The head of an international secret organization behind human trafficking operations across Asia.
The information in the file indicated that the previous mansion was just one branch of the organization. He had only touched the 'tail of the snake.'
That night, while walking through a narrow alley back to his lodging, Death sensed something behind him.
Unnaturally silent footsteps.
A faint metallic scent in the air.
And a shadow… that shouldn't be there at this hour.
He stopped walking and spoke softly without turning around.
"If you're planning a sneak attack… you've picked the wrong person."
The sound of metal being drawn from a sheath—a short knife flew towards him. Death dodged, spun, and kicked the masked enemy in the forehead.
Three more assassins emerged from the shadows, wielding sharp knives and silenced pistols. They said nothing, just moved with swift, systematic precision.
Death became Death once more.
After a violent yet silent struggle, all enemies were down. None survived.
He panted slowly and picked up a piece of paper hidden in one of their pockets.
It was a letter typed on an old typewriter:
"We've seen you, 'Death Walker.'
You stopped one, but forgot there's an entire nest waiting.
See you soon... in Bangkok."
The next morning – Grandfather's house.
Death returned to eat breakfast silently with his grandfather while watching the news on television.
"Last night, a group of unidentified assassins were found dead in an alley in the Wat Ket area. Police have yet to find any leads on the perpetrator…"
His grandfather turned off the TV, put down his spoon, and spoke in a flat tone.
"It seems you'll have to step back into the shadows again."
Death was silent for a moment before replying softly.
"It's not because I want to go back in… but because there are still people inside who need to be saved."
Death opened a drawer under the table and took something out—his jet-black mask. He had once considered burning it.
But now…
He put it on again.
Not to "kill."
But to walk through hell… to pull someone out into the light.
New destination: Bangkok.
The central nest of the "Snake-Heart."
The real enemy… had just revealed its shadow.
(Next episode: "Hell in the City")