Chapter 1: Death's Silver Smile
Gin Chan's life had always been a battle — a relentless fight against the crushing weight of poverty and despair. Born in the shadowed alleys of a sprawling city, he had known hunger before he knew hope, and cold before he felt warmth.
His earliest memories were fragments of hardship: the sharp sting of hunger gnawing at his belly, the bitter chill that seeped through the thin walls of their crumbling shack, and the tired eyes of his mother, who carried a fading dream despite the years of hardship etched into her face.
"Promise me, Gin Chan," she had whispered on her deathbed, her voice fragile like a breeze in autumn. "Promise you'll live… truly live."
Those words settled deep in his heart — a flicker of light in a life too often swallowed by shadows.
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But life rarely gives what it promises.
In the years after his mother's death, Gin Chan found himself sinking deeper into a world that demanded more than he had to give. The city's streets were unforgiving. Jobs were scarce, and trust even scarcer. Debts piled up like towering walls, isolating him further.
Yet amid the darkness, there was one person who refused to let him fall entirely — Yoon Seo, his childhood love.
She was the gentle light in his bleak world, a constant who saw beyond his brokenness and the bitter rage that often bubbled beneath his surface. She held hope for both of them, even when Gin Chan could not.
But hope is a fragile thing, and anger is a stronger tide.
Over time, the bitterness of his failures — the endless struggle, the betrayals, the gnawing shame — twisted his heart. He pushed Yoon Seo away, convinced that his brokenness would only drag her down.
"I'm nothing, Yoon Seo," he had said one cold evening, his voice cracking under the weight of his own despair. "I'll only bring you pain."
Her tears fell silently as she begged him to stay, to fight, to believe. But Gin Chan's mind was made up. He ended their relationship, severing the last lifeline to light he had left.
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That final night, Gin Chan wandered the cold streets alone. His heart was heavy with regret and anger — a volatile storm. The city around him was silent, draped in darkness like a shroud.
He clutched a small knife, not for others but for himself — a tool to end the pain that clawed inside his chest.
As he stood at the edge of a narrow alley, he muttered under his breath, a bitter laugh escaping his lips:
"After all… death is nothing but the ending."
Those words hung in the air like a challenge.
But Death had heard him.
From the shadows, betrayal struck — swift and merciless. A blade plunged into his back, piercing flesh and bone. The coldness of the steel was nothing compared to the burning rage and sorrow that exploded within him.
Gin Chan collapsed onto the damp cobblestones, the world around him blurring into darkness. His final breath was a hollow laugh, a bitter surrender to the cruel absurdity of his fate.
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Then, everything stopped.
No darkness. No light. No sound. No time.
He was suspended in a void — endless, silent, timeless.
The air was thick, almost tangible, pressing gently against his skin. Shadows curled and twisted around him, frozen in an eternal dance.
Gin Chan opened his eyes. The world was unlike anything he had ever known.
Here, there was no sun or moon, no stars to guide the night. The sky was an endless expanse of deep, shifting gray, and beneath his feet, the ground seemed to be made of mist — soft and intangible.
Time did not exist in this place. It was a realm where moments stretched into infinity, where past, present, and future collided into a single breathless instant.
And in the heart of this strange realm stood a figure.
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She was Death.
Not the monstrous reaper of legends, but a calm, composed presence wrapped in shadows. Her form was slender, elegant, unnervingly still. A cloak woven from midnight itself flowed behind her, and her hair was liquid darkness.
Her eyes glimmered like distant stars, cold and unyielding. But beneath that silver gaze was something else — a strange kindness, or perhaps a quiet understanding.
Upon her lips rested a smile — thin, silver, haunting.
"You laughed when I gave you a choice," she said softly, voice echoing through the timeless void like a whisper on the wind.
Gin Chan's heart pounded. No words came.
"So I gave you a curse," Death continued.
Her voice was neither cruel nor kind. It was a statement of fact — inevitable, unchangeable.
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Gin Chan felt the curse settle into his bones like a cold shadow.
"You will live again," she said, "but not as yourself. You will be forced to walk through the final moments of others' lives — thieves, soldiers, beggars, kings — each with their own pain, fears, regrets."
He swallowed hard as her words sank in.
Every death. Every life he would inhabit would leave its mark. The pain would be his. The memories, his to carry.
"You will remember every scar. Every failure. Every broken promise."
Gin Chan's mind reeled.
Why him? Why this cruel fate?
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Death's silver smile never wavered.
"In this endless game," she said, "you will find answers — or lose yourself forever."
The timeless realm held its breath.
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Then Death slowly lifted a small, short gun — its surface shimmering like liquid silver, engraved with strange, otherworldly runes that glowed faintly in the timeless gloom.
Without a word, she raised the gun and fired.
A ghostly silver bullet sliced through the stillness, striking Gin Chan's chest.
A searing pain bloomed — then everything blurred and twisted, pulling him into the next life.
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And as the silence stretched, Gin Chan's thoughts flickered back — to Yoon Seo's tear-streaked face, to the promise to his mother, to the life he had lived and the choices he had made.
Would he ever be free? Could he ever truly live?
Yet somewhere deep inside, that stubborn flicker refused to die.
He would endure.
He would survive.
He would learn what it truly meant to live.
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The game had begun.
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