Death’s Embrace, Life’s Awakening
The metallic scent of blood filled the warehouse, thick and suffocating. The dim light flickered above, casting long, ominous shadows across the concrete floor, where bodies lay unmoving. Sunoo stood amidst the carnage, a gun in his gloved hand, his black suit speckled with crimson.
"Boss, it's done," one of his men muttered, wiping blood from his knife.
Sunoo exhaled slowly, lowering his weapon. This was just another night, another job. He had built his empire through ruthlessness, climbing from the gutters to the throne of the underworld. No mercy. No weakness. That was his law.
But then—
A sharp whistle. A gunshot.
Pain exploded in his chest.
His breath hitched. The world tilted. He staggered back, his vision blurring as he clutched the wound just below his ribs. His men shouted, drawing their weapons, but he couldn’t focus on their voices.
Who? Who dared—
His legs gave out. The cold floor welcomed him like an old friend. His body convulsed as warm blood seeped between his fingers. Someone kneeled beside him, whispering hurried words he couldn’t understand.
Betrayed.
His lips curled in amusement. So this was how it ended?
As his vision darkened, his last thought was bitter. If I could live again… I would make them all kneel.
—
A sharp gasp tore from his lips.
Sunoo's eyes flew open.
Bright light seared his vision. The air was thick with the scent of herbs and unfamiliar perfumes. He tried to move, but his limbs felt foreign, weak. His fingers twitched, and something warm covered his hand—
A woman's sobbing voice.
"Lucien! My son, please wake up!"
His brows furrowed. Lucien?
He forced himself to look. A beautiful woman sat beside him, her delicate features contorted in grief. Tears streamed down her face as she clutched his hand desperately. Behind her, figures in regal clothing hovered, their expressions filled with concern.
Where was he?
His breath hitched. This wasn't the warehouse. This wasn’t his world.
What the hell just happened?