The story begins in the heart of chaos—blades clashing, blood splattering, shadows dancing in the dim light.
Ji Ah moved like a phantom through the battlefield—silent, swift, and deadly. A secret hunter working for an underground agency sworn to protect the world from unexplainable, monstrous threats—creatures that defied logic, legends that turned real.
Every step she took was calculated. Every strike, precise. In her world, one mistake wasn't just failure—it was death.
After the brutal mission ended, Ji Ah returned home—her body bruised, her side bleeding through torn fabric. She closed the door behind her with a quiet click, locking the chaos of the night outside. Her apartment was dim, silent, and cold—just the way she liked it. Just the way it needed to be.
She sat on the edge of her bed, exhaling slowly as she peeled off her jacket. Her fingers were steady, used to pain, used to blood. The sting of antiseptic no longer made her flinch. But tonight... the ache went deeper than skin.
As she wrapped a fresh bandage around her arm, her thoughts began to drift—
To the dream.
The same one, again.
Fourteen years.
Fourteen years, and it never changed.
In the dream, there was only ruin.
Screams. Fire. Blood.
And a little girl—her—lying motionless in the center of a destroyed street, smoke curling around her like a curse. Her chest rose and fell weakly. Her eyes, wide with fear, reflected nothing but chaos.
Then came the shadow.
A tall figure emerged from the smoke—unfamiliar yet painfully familiar. He knelt beside her, shielding her from falling debris with his body.
His face was never clear. His voice, a whisper lost in the wind.
Ji Ah's chest tightened. Her breath hitched.
She dug her nails into the mattress.
"Who am I?" she whispered. "Why don't I remember anything before that dream? And who is he—the man who's been haunting my nights for fourteen years?"
Only silence answered. But within her, the storm raged louder.
---
The Next Day
The sky hung heavy and grey, matching Ji Ah's mood as she walked quickly through the side entrance of a hospital. Not the front—never the front. She was too used to staying hidden in the shadows.
She wasn't here for a check-up. She never was.
This place, for her, meant one thing:
Dr. Goo Shin-joo.
He wasn't just any doctor. He had once saved her life.
She had met him the day she was recruited. A mission gone wrong, nearly fatal. Shin-joo had stitched her up, covered for her, and kept her secrets ever since. Over time, he'd become more than a medic—he'd become her anchor. The only one who saw through her carefully guarded armor.
She knocked once before entering his small, cluttered office.
Shin-joo looked up from a file, glasses askew, a tired but knowing smile tugging at his lips.
"Let me guess," he said, eyeing the blood on her sleeve, "Gunshot? Blade? Or something… not entirely human?"
Ji Ah gave a faint smirk and sat down without answering.
He sighed, pulling on a pair of gloves. "You really don't know the meaning of 'day off,' do you?"
As he cleaned her wounds with practiced hands, his voice dropped to a gentler tone.
"You had the dream again, didn't you?"
Her smirk faded. She turned her face away, jaw tightening.
"It's worse now," she admitted softly. "I see more. The little girl, the blood, the blast... and the shadow. Always him."
Shin-joo paused, eyes narrowing with concern.
"Still no face?"
She shook her head. "Just this feeling... like I know him. Like he saved me. But I don't know how. Or why."
He placed a reassuring hand over her wrist.
"Ji Ah," he said, voi
ce quiet, steady, "What if it's not just a dream? What if it's a memory?"