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 concrete floor, my hands—rough, scarred—clutching my head as if I can hold it together. The Void's punishments grow worse, as if it's feeding on my failures. Yoon Seo-jun's body is gone, shot in that Gangnam club, Kim Woo-bin's mocking words ringing in my ears: Park Soo-jin. Knows too much. Like your brother. Now I'm someone new, and the memories flood in, a torrent of someone else's life.I'm Jung Woo-sik, 29, a mechanic in Incheon's industrial district, working for a chop shop tied to the syndicate. His life unravels in my mind: a quiet kid who loved cars, sucked into the underworld to pay for his sister's hospital bills, betrayed by a boss who didn't like questions. Woo-sik's last memory is a wrench to the skull, his body dumped in a scrapyard. I'm lying in his garage, surrounded by rusted tools and oil stains, the faint hum of machinery buzzing in the dark. Blood crusts on the concrete—Woo-sik's, not mine. Not yet.I'm Kang Jiwon, and I have ten days to find Park Soo-jin. She's a hacker, tied to Min-soo's exposés, and she knows something about his murder. Lee Dong-hyun's name still burns—a syndicate boss I've chased through four lives—but the Shadow's shadow looms larger now, a codename whispered by a dying man. Min-soo's face flashes—his laugh, his blood in that alley. I grit my teeth, pushing through the pain. The Voice's taunt echoes: Blood demands blood. I've spilled plenty, but it's not enough. Not yet.I stagger to my feet, Woo-sik's stocky frame heavy but strong, his calloused hands familiar with tools that can double as weapons. The garage is a mess—car parts, oil drums, a flickering fluorescent light. Woo-sik's memories point me to a locker: a crowbar, a burner phone, and a photo of a young woman in a hospital bed—his sister, Ji-yeon, dying of leukemia. His guilt twists in my chest, mingling with my own. I pocket the phone and crowbar, checking the messages. One stands out, from a contact labeled Hyung: Meet at Docks, Pier 7, midnight. Bring the package. Woo-sik was supposed to deliver stolen car parts, but his memories hint at more—drugs, maybe weapons, tied to the syndicate. The docks are a hub for their operations, and Lee Dong-hyun runs Incheon's smuggling routes. This could be my way in.I glance at the clock—10 PM. Two hours. I search the garage, finding a map scrawled with drop-off points. Pier 7 is marked, along with a name: Choi Min-kyu. Woo-sik's memories paint him as a brutal enforcer, Dong-hyun's right hand. My pulse quickens. This is closer than I've ever gotten. I grab a jacket, stained with grease, and head out into Incheon's night, the air thick with salt and diesel.The docks are a maze of shipping containers and cranes, lit by harsh floodlights. Waves crash against the piers, and the wind carries the stench of fish and oil. I clutch the crowbar, staying low behind a crate. Woo-sik's memories guide me to a warehouse at Pier 7, where shadows move inside. My heart pounds—not just fear, but anticipation. Min-soo's killer is out there, and every step brings me closer.
The warehouse is a cavern of shadows, stacked with crates and reeking of chemicals. I spot Choi Min-kyu near a loading bay, a hulking man with a shaved head and a scar across his knuckles. Two others stand with him, armed with pistols, their eyes scanning the dark. Woo-sik's memories scream: Danger. He killed me. Min-kyu didn't trust Woo-sik, thought he was skimming profits. I grip the crowbar, staying hidden. I need answers, not a fight—not yet.I creep closer, catching Min-kyu's voice, low and rough. "Dong-hyun's pissed. The Seoul job's got heat—cops sniffing around, some hacker digging too deep." My breath catches. Hacker. Park Soo-jin? Min-kyu continues, "We need to move the shipment tonight. No loose ends." One of his men nods, muttering about a "journalist who got too close." My blood runs cold. Min-soo. They're talking about Min-soo.I step out, crowbar raised, Jiwon's rage overriding Woo-sik's caution. "Choi Min-kyu," I say, my voice steady. "Tell me about the journalist. Kang Min-soo. Who killed him?" Min-kyu's eyes narrow, but he laughs, a guttural sound. "Woo-sik? You're supposed to be scrap. What's this about a journalist?" His men draw their guns, but I see it in his eyes—recognition, just like Woo-bin's. He knows Min-soo's name.I don't wait. I swing the crowbar, catching the first goon's wrist. Bone cracks, and his gun clatters. The second fires, the bullet grazing my shoulder, blood welling hot. I dive behind a crate as shots splinter wood around me. Min-kyu's shouting, "Kill him! He's not Woo-sik!" How does he know? My heart races, but there's no time to think. I grab a loose pipe, hurling it at the second goon. It hits his chest, and he stumbles, giving me an opening.I charge Min-kyu, crowbar swinging. He dodges, faster than his bulk suggests, and pulls a knife. The blade slashes my arm, blood spraying, but I'm past pain. I slam the crowbar into his knee, hearing it crunch. He roars, falling, and I'm on him, pinning him to the concrete. "Park Soo-jin," I snarl. "Where is she? Who killed Min-soo?" Blood drips from my arm, mixing with his.Min-kyu spits blood, grinning. "You're in over your head, mechanic. Soo-jin's a ghost, like you. The journalist? He pissed off the wrong people. Ask the Shadow." His words hit like a punch. The Shadow? A name, a codename, something new. Before I can press, a gunshot cracks, and pain rips through my back. The second goon, back on his feet. I collapse, blood pooling, Min-kyu's laugh fading as my vision blurs. Day five.But I'm not done. With my last strength, I swing the crowbar, catching Min-kyu's skull. Blood sprays, bone cracks, and he goes still. If I'm dying, he's coming with me. The world fades, and the Void swallows me.The Void is redder now, hotter, like I'm drowning in molten iron. The Voice is there, its tone sharp, almost angry. "Four lives, Jiwon. Four failures. The Shadow. A name to chase. Will you break?" I try to scream, to demand what it wants, but my voice is gone. Pain tears through me, worse than death. "Blood demands blood," it hisses, and I'm falling, falling—