The pain slams into me like a freight train, my skull splitting as if someone's driving spikes through my temples. I scream, collapsing onto a cold, tiled floor, my hands—too soft, too clean—clawing at my head. The agony is worse this time, sharper, as if the Void is punishing me for failing again. Han Min-jae's body is gone, shot through the chest in that Busan bar, blood pooling under me as Oh Seung-tae's dying words echoed: You're chasing ghosts. Now I'm someone new, and the memories flood in, drowning me.I'm Yoon Seo-jun, 22, a college dropout turned courier for a shady delivery service in Seoul's Gangnam district. His life unravels in my mind: a scholarship kid who cracked under pressure, a gambling debt that spiraled out of control, a job running packages for men with cold eyes and hidden knives. Seo-jun's last memory is a betrayal—a client, a man with a scar across his cheek, shoving a silenced pistol against his forehead. The shot was quick, the pain brief, but the fear lingers in my bones. I'm lying in an upscale apartment, the kind with marble floors and floor-to-ceiling windows, but it's wrong—too clean for a courier's life. Blood stains the tiles near my feet, Seo-jun's blood, already drying.I'm Kang Jiwon, and I have ten days to find Lee Dong-hyun. He's the thread tying my last two lives together, a name whispered by dying men. Tae-ho pointed me to him in Seoul; Seung-tae confirmed it in Busan. He's a mid-level syndicate boss, and he might know who killed Min-soo. My brother's face flashes—his laugh, his blood in that alley. I grit my teeth, pushing through the pain. I won't fail again.I stumble to my feet, Seo-jun's lean frame unsteady, his designer sneakers squeaking on the tiles. The apartment's a front, Seo-jun's memories tell me—used for drop-offs, not living. A black duffel bag sits on the counter, stuffed with cash and a burner phone. I check the phone: one contact, labeled Boss. Seo-jun's memories scream danger, but also opportunity. This body worked for someone high up, someone who might lead to Dong-hyun. I pocket the phone and a sleek knife from Seo-jun's jacket—small, but sharp enough to cut through bone.The burner buzzes. A text: Drop at Neon Vault, 11 PM. Don't be late. Neon Vault is a high-end club in Gangnam, a playground for the rich and the rotten. Seo-jun's been there before, delivering packages to men in suits who smelled of blood and cologne. I glance at the clock—8 PM. Three hours to prepare. I search the apartment, finding a hidden compartment under the sink: a 9mm pistol, loaded. Seo-jun wasn't just a courier; he was trusted, at least until he wasn't. His betrayal feels too close to Min-soo's murder—a knife, a gun, a life snuffed out for knowing too much.I head out, Seoul's neon jungle swallowing me. Gangnam's streets pulse with life—salarymen, clubbers, street vendors hawking skewers. Seo-jun's memories guide me, but Jiwon's rage drives me. Lee Dong-hyun. I need to find him, and this drop might be my way in.
Neon Vault is a fortress of glass and steel, its bassline throbbing like a heartbeat. Bouncers eye me—Seo-jun's face gets a nod—and I slip inside. The club's a sensory assault: strobe lights, sweat, and liquor. I spot my contact in a VIP booth, a wiry man with a scar across his cheek—the one who killed Seo-jun. His name surfaces: Kim Woo-bin, a syndicate enforcer. My pulse spikes, but I keep my face blank. Seo-jun's memories warn me: Woo-bin's loyal to someone bigger, maybe Dong-hyun himself.I approach, sliding the duffel onto the table. "Delivery," I say, my voice steady despite the fire in my chest. Woo-bin smirks, unzipping the bag to check the cash. His eyes flick to me, and I see it—suspicion. "You're late, Seo-jun. Boss doesn't like that." He leans closer, his breath sour. "And you're looking… off."I tense. Does he know Seo-jun's dead? No, he's just fishing. "Rough night," I mutter, channeling Seo-jun's cocky tone. "Who's the boss tonight? I need a name."Woo-bin's smirk fades. "You don't ask questions, courier." He signals, and two goons materialize from the crowd, hands on concealed weapons. My heart pounds, but I'm not the scared kid from Tae-ho's life or the desperate runaway in Min-jae's. I've died twice. I've learned.I move first, slamming the table into Woo-bin's chest. He crashes back, spilling cash and liquor. The goons draw knives, but I'm faster, Seo-jun's reflexes honed from years of running. I fire the pistol, the silencer muffling the shots. One goon drops, blood spraying from his neck, the other takes a bullet to the knee, screaming. The club erupts—screams, shattering glass, bodies scattering. Woo-bin's back on his feet, a blade in hand, and he's fast. He slashes, catching my arm, blood welling hot and red. I grit my teeth, diving low and tackling him into the booth."Lee Dong-hyun!" I snarl, pinning him, the knife at his throat. "Where is he?" Blood drips from my arm, mixing with the spilled liquor. Woo-bin laughs, choking under my grip. "You're dead already, kid. Dong-hyun's untouchable. Ask Park Soo-jin. She knows." His eyes glint with malice, and I realize he's stalling. A shadow moves behind me—another goon, gun raised.I roll just as the shot grazes my shoulder, burning like fire. I throw the knife, catching the goon in the chest. He collapses, blood pooling, but Woo-bin's on me again, his blade sinking into my side. Pain explodes, but I grab his wrist, twisting until it snaps. He screams, and I drive my fist into his face, again and again, until his nose is pulp and his eyes go dull. Blood coats my hands, slick and warm, and I feel nothing but rage. Min-soo's face burns in my mind."Park Soo-jin," I rasp, shaking him. "Who is she?" Woo-bin's fading, but he spits blood and grins. "Hacker. Knows… too much. Like your brother." My heart stops. He knew Min-soo. Before I can press, a gunshot cracks, and pain tears through my chest. Another goon, hidden in the chaos. I collapse, blood filling my lungs, Woo-bin's laughter echoing as I die. Day four.
The Void engulfs me, red and pulsing, the air heavy with ash. The Voice is there, its tone sharp, mocking. "Three lives, Jiwon. Three failures. Park Soo-jin. A name, a thread. Will you pull it, or snap it?" I try to scream, to demand why it's doing this, but my voice is gone. The pain surges, like knives carving my soul. "Blood demands blood," it whispers, and I'm falling, falling—I wake in a new body, the pain in my head unbearable, like my skull's being crushed. I'm in a dark room, the smell of oil and metal thick. Lee Dong-hyun's name burns brighter now, but Woo-bin's words haunt me. Park Soo-jin. Knows too much. Like your brother. She's my next lead, but Woo-bin's grin, his knowledge of Min-soo, feels like a trap. The syndicate's bigger than I thought, and I'm running out of lives to untangle it.