"I will capture you, villain!"
The hero of justice declared, his voice firm and heroic as he raised his sword.
"Oh, hero… don't you understand?"
"Stories about heroes and villains always end in the same cliché."
The hero fell silent, struck by the words of the criminal hunted by the entire city.
"Of course I do!"
"Justice always triumphs over evil!"
The words burst from the hero's mouth with forced confidence, despite his battered body and labored breathing.
"No," the man replied calmly.
"It's not because of justice."
"It's because when death draws near, villains lose their reason to keep going."
The man wanted across the city spoke with unsettling composure, even though one of his arms had already been severed by the hero's blade.
"You're just making excuses, bastard."
The hero killed him.
Just like that, years of terror ended by his hand.
But what had he truly done?
Did the hero become a hero because he killed a murderer?
Or did he become a hero simply by becoming a murderer himself?
Inside a dim apartment, a man sat alone, watching a film from a genre few people cared for anymore—thriller.
But this man was different.
He wasn't just a fan. He was obsessed.
No one loved the genre more than he did. Nothing else in his life came close.
And because of that obsession, something inside him had fractured.
He was a shut-in. No ambitions. No talents. No direction.
Only thrillers.
That night, heavy fists slammed against the apartment door.
"Morry!"
"How long are you going to dodge the rent?!"
"If you can't afford it anymore, then get out!"
Morry stayed silent inside his room, forcing himself not to move, not to respond, hoping the landlord's voice would eventually fade away.
That was how he always escaped responsibility. By doing nothing. A complete waste of society.
But this time, the noise did not end as it usually did.
The sound of a door opening echoed through the hallway. Then came more footsteps. Too many. Before Morry could react, several men stormed in and dragged him outside.
That became Morry's last clear memory.
Now, his body lay sprawled across the street.
He had tried to save a small child, only to realize too late that the child had never been real. Just a hallucination born from his fractured mind.
The impact came without mercy.
"Why?"
"Why does everything always end in failure
I know there are always those who lose in this world, but does it really have to be me for my entire life"
He muttered weakly. Blood slipped from the corner of his lips as his vision slowly blurred. Sounds overlapped, panicked shouts, hurried footsteps, voices calling out to him, until everything dissolved into darkness beneath the streetlights.
Why do you only notice me when I am dying
That was the last sentence inside his mind.
His head felt unbearably heavy.
Every muscle in his body screamed, as if needles were piercing through every nerve.
Then his eyes opened.Towering buildings greeted him.
Not a hospital room.
"Huh"
The sound escaped him as he stared at the unfamiliar surroundings. Only then did he realize his clothes were soaked in blood, yet there were no wounds on his body.
Morry slowly looked around, confusion tightening in his chest. He tried to stand, and though a faint ache still lingered in parts of his body, it was nothing compared to what he remembered.
"Why am I here ?what actually happened Wasn't I supposed to die and go to the place people call the afterlife Or is this the afterlife?"
He questioned himself while walking forward, his steps unsteady. His eyes widened the moment he noticed something nearby. Bodies. Human corpses lay scattered across the area, each one dead in a different state.
"What the hell is this What happened here?"
Morry instinctively rushed over, checking them one by one, searching for any sign of life. Anyone who might still be breathing. There was nothing. Not a single one of them was alive.
"The hell Who could do something like this"
As soon as the thought crossed his mind,
his gaze shifted toward a mirror. The reflection staring back at him was unfamiliar, a man with black hair and blue eyes.
"Who is that, Me?Why do I look different"
Questions flooded his head as he tested the reflection, raising his hand and tilting his head. The image mirrored every movement perfectly. There was no mistake. That was him.
There were many rumors back in his original world. They said that if someone lived a good life or performed a truly noble act, then among a thousand chances, they might reincarnate as someone blessed.
Wow this is insane I really did get reincarnated and I even look kind of handsome
He muttered while awkwardly posing in front of the mirror.
"But what did I even do to deserve reincarnation Well whatever it doesn't matter What matters is that in this life I won't waste it again"
That thought dragged old memories to the surface. A childhood where he was always pushed aside, never chosen, never prioritized, not even considered an option.
Footsteps echoed behind him. A man in a neat suit holding a pistol approached Morry calmly.
"Hey What are you doing?"
The man's voice was heavy.
Morry immediately turned toward him.
Who are you
The question slipped out innocently.
"Huh"
The man raised an eyebrow.
"Eh?"
Morry grew even more confused by the reaction. Maybe this man knew the original owner of this body, though the idea had not fully settled yet.
"Are you joking? We've been partners for six years Assassins"
The man spoke firmly, his tone sharp yet oddly casual.
"Oh partner assassins huh ,Wait a second Did he just say assassins?!"
The words echoed inside Morry's head. His eyes widened as he stared at the man, realization slowly sinking in. It seemed his reincarnation was not exactly the blessing he had imagined.