The cold returned like a memory — sharp, familiar, endless.
Gin floated in the black, the Death's Realm pulsing with silent thunder. His chest still heaved with the weight of Minjae's name, of Yoon Seo's inclusion in a file he never got to see. The blade had gone deep — but not as deep as the truth. Each death stripped him, but now, something new settled beneath his skin: resolve.
"You look tired," Death whispered.
Gin didn't speak. His fists clenched. His eyes burned.
"You think you're ready now?" the voice curled around him like smoke.
"I don't just want to fight them anymore," Gin muttered, voice low, teeth clenched. "I want to break them. I want to end this game on my terms."
A silence.
Then a chuckle — old and endless. "Terms? You think you dictate the rules now?"
"I'm asking," Gin said. "Reincarnate me somewhere I can retaliate. I need to be in position. Someone with access. Power. Let me fight back."
Death's laughter stopped. For the first time… it sounded angry.
"You don't ask," it hissed. "You accept. That is the rule."
"I've died for your rules," Gin snapped. "Let me live for something else."
He barely saw it. Just a glimmer — then a flash of silver light.
Death's scythe tore through the dark.
And everything vanished.
---
POV: Death
There are threads in the weave of existence that shine brighter than others. Gin Chan's thread burns.
I have watched him die again, again, again. Mortal rage, mortal sorrow. Still, he climbs back.
He demanded I place him where he could strike, where he could rise and battle the Syndicate head-on. He forgets: this isn't his game.
"You don't command fate," I told him.
But mortals never listen. He begged. Pleaded. His defiance was nearly poetic.
So I gave him something poetic in return: silence. And then, another life.
----
The world returned in pieces — breath first, then sound, then pain.
Gin gasped and opened his eyes into low light. A leather chair. Dark marble walls. And soft jazz playing from invisible speakers.
He was seated in a sleek office, overlooking Seoul's skyline through a bulletproof window. He caught his reflection in the glass.
Sharp eyes. Clean-cut beard. Slicked hair. A tailored black suit.
His fingers moved on their own, pulling a file from a folder.
Han Jae-Yong.
Syndicate Intelligence Officer. Code Level Six. Master in Subterfuge and Surveillance.
Gin inhaled.
This was it. Death had placed him inside the machine. Not high enough to be a threat. Not low enough to be discarded.
He was now their eyes — the quiet ears in the walls.
A silent watcher.
---
Two weeks passed.
Gin walked the fine edge of shadow, navigating Syndicate corridors like a ghost. His past lives screamed inside him, but he learned to quiet them. His face remained unreadable, voice low, presence forgettable.
The Syndicate's new Seoul base was beneath an abandoned airport — massive hangars transformed into server rooms, training zones, and war councils. Everything ran through codenames and compartmentalized roles. Everyone served without question.
Gin, now Han Jae-Yong, used that.
He listened. He archived. He memorized.
He knew not to move too soon. Patience was the weapon now.
---
"Han," a voice called.
Gin turned. A tall man in gray tactical gear strode beside him — Commander Baek. One of the Syndicate's newer but respected field leaders.
"There's been chatter," Baek said. "Someone's been prying into old Seoul operations. A breach, possibly connected to the flash drive. Keep your ears open."
Gin nodded. "Of course."
Baek didn't linger. That was the code. You said what you needed. Nothing more.
But it told Gin something vital.
They didn't find Wook.
The original drive was still hidden.
---
By the third week, Gin had mapped out the Syndicate's inner systems. Encryption protocols. Coded speech. Agent movement cycles.
And he'd found a weak point.
Unit 17 — a courier team that handled internal data delivery. They passed encrypted messages between the higher-ups using old-school hardware to avoid tracing. Most of the team was low-risk, but one courier—Hyun-mi, a quiet woman with prosthetic fingers—stood out.
She moved differently. Never spoke to anyone. And wore a ring Gin had seen before — in a past life.
The boss's inner circle.
He began trailing her — subtly. Casual glances. Coincidental hallway meetings.
He waited for her to slip.
---
It happened on a Tuesday.
Hyun-mi entered the communication vault alone. Standard procedure. Five-minute windows. No cameras.
Gin was watching from the shadows. When she emerged, she was holding an unmarked folder — not part of her usual run.
She turned a corner.
He followed.
In the stairwell, she sensed it. Spun. Reached for her stun baton.
Gin caught her wrist midair. "Easy."
Her eyes widened. "You're not Syndicate-born, are you?"
Gin paused. Then released her wrist. "No."
"You don't know what you're doing," she whispered. "They'll erase you."
"Help me stop them."
"Why would I—"
"They've killed people across lives. Across realities. And they're targeting someone innocent. A girl named Yoon Seo."
At her name, something shifted in her face.
"You know that name," Gin said.
Hyun-mi hesitated. "No."
But her grip on the file tightened.
Gin stepped closer. "There's a war coming. You're on the wrong side."
She looked down the stairwell. Then back at him.
"I'll think about it."
---
The next day, Hyun-mi was gone.
Vanished.
No trace. No announcement. Not even a whisper.
Gin knew the Syndicate had found the leak.
And now they were watching.
---
The silence tightened around him. Gin became a shadow in a shadow, quieter than before, more careful than ever.
He stopped trailing couriers. Instead, he watched the servers.
The Syndicate's data center was buried in the basement — twenty feet underground, monitored by heat sensors and biometric scans. No one went in alone.
But then, an opportunity surfaced.
---
A fire alarm.
False trigger. Standard protocol. All upper-level personnel were evacuated except for emergency tech.
Gin grabbed a lab coat and a stolen clearance badge. Slipped past two guards. Entered the server room.
Rows of machines blinked in darkness, humming with hidden power. He reached a terminal, plugged in a drive — the copy Wook had given him before.
He didn't try to open it. Just linked it.
Data streamed. Hidden directories began revealing names, coordinates, operations.
Then — red.
Access Denied.
Security Alert: Unauthorized Ping Detected.
"Shit."
He yanked the drive and ran.
The Syndicate didn't wait.
---
The hunt was immediate.
Gin ducked through basement tunnels, pursued by two operatives in armored vests. Gunfire echoed behind him. He slid across a blood-stained floor, knocked out one guard with a fire extinguisher, and bolted up the maintenance ladder.
Alarms blared across the hangars.
He reached the surface and ran into the snow-covered woods that lined the base.
For two hours, he evaded searchlights, dogs, and gunfire.
Until he was finally cornered.
A drone spotted him near a dried riverbed. A net deployed. Taser darts followed.
Gin collapsed — shaking, breath ragged.
They took him.
---
The interrogation room was steel and silence.
Gin sat bleeding in the center. This time, not tied. Just surrounded.
A familiar voice walked in.
Minjae.
Clean suit. Cold eyes. The second-in-command.
"You again," Minjae said. "You just don't die right."
Gin smirked. "Guess I'm harder to kill than your average traitor."
Minjae walked around him slowly. "You accessed something you shouldn't have. That drive — it's from an old operation. One the boss buried years ago."
"Why?" Gin asked.
Minjae paused.
Then laughed. "You don't even know what's on it, do you?"
Gin said nothing.
Minjae leaned closer. "The girl. Yoon Seo. You think she's just a loose end?"
Gin's heart stopped.
"You're not the first to care about her. And you won't be the last."
"What's in the file?" Gin whispered.
Minjae smiled. "Your answer."
Gin lunged.
But something jabbed his neck. A tranquilizer.
He slumped — heart still burning.
---
He awoke… back in the black.
The Death's Realm.
Again.
---
"You're still breathing hatred," Death said.
Gin didn't answer. He lay curled in the void.
"She matters to you," Death mused. "Even when you're not supposed to remember. That's rare."
"She's in danger," Gin croaked. "And I don't even know why."
"You will."
Gin opened his eyes.
"I need another chance."
Death tilted its invisible head. "What do you want this time?"
Gin hesitated. Then said: "Not power. Just… a place. A way in."
"You don't get to pick."
"I'm not askin
g to win. Just to try."
Death was silent.
Then: "Fine."
Gin braced himself.
But no fall came.
Death's scythe gleamed.
"Sleep, silent watcher."
Then came the silver flash.
---