Blood. The first thing Gin Chan felt as he regained consciousness was the thick, coppery scent of it. Not his own — not yet — but it soaked the floor beneath him. His wrists were tied above his head, the coarse rope biting into raw skin. Cold concrete kissed his knees, and the ache in his bones told him this body had been here for days.
Then came the memories. Not his own, but the man's whose body he now occupied. Jae-Hwan. Enforcer. Executioner. Loyal hound of a gang called The Crimson Fangs — one of the Syndicate's most feared subdivisions. Ruthless, disciplined, and precise, Jae-Hwan was once a rising legend, known for leaving no survivors.
Until her.
Her name was Sori — the boss's lover. Beautiful, manipulative, intoxicating. She whispered escape like a lullaby and painted love as rebellion. And Jae-Hwan believed her.
During a covert mission in Busan, he vanished with her — and a flash drive containing Syndicate data so sensitive, it could unravel entire territories. But Sori, whether by fear or betrayal, disappeared before he could even hand it over.
And now? Now, Gin Chan — reborn in Jae-Hwan's skin — dangled in a basement that reeked of iron, pain, and death.
A door creaked open. Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate.
"Still alive, huh?"
The voice was gravel wrapped in razor wire. Min-seok — second-in-command of the Crimson Fangs and Jae-Hwan's former mentor. He stepped into view, eyes dark as obsidian, knuckles cracked and bloodied from previous interrogations.
"You've got more lives than a cockroach."
Gin didn't reply. His tongue was heavy, his lips cracked. But inside, the fire was building. He had to escape. Had to find that drive. Had to understand why this version of Jae-Hwan trusted a woman like Sori.
Min-seok raised a blade. Short, curved, ceremonial.
"Time to carve away your sins."
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