012. Prelude to Fury

Universe Special Investigation Bureau Headquarters, Yu-na Lee's Bedroom

Knock. Knock. Knock.

A soft knock broke the silence.

"This is Geon-woo Lee,"

came a calm yet deliberate voice from the other side of the door.

"Come in,"

Yu-na replied, her voice steadier than she felt.

The door opened, and Geon-woo Lee entered. In his hand was a thick file of test results, which he placed on the desk with practiced ease.

"All the tests came back clear. There's no issue with proceeding with the genetic modification procedure."

"I see."

Yu-na nodded. Though her reply was firm, her gaze wavered.

"Nervous?"

Somehow, Geon-woo noticed.

Yu-na hesitated briefly at his question, clenching her fists and forcing a determined expression.

"No. I'm fine. I came prepared for this. I can do it."

"Good. Then let's get started. Change into the surgical gown, and we'll proceed immediately."

"Um… will the procedure take long?"

"The procedure itself isn't complicated or lengthy. It's just one injection."

Yu-na clenched and unclenched her fists, her fingers trembling. Each breath felt heavier as the enormity of her decision loomed. She stared at the transparent liquid in the syringe. It shimmered under the harsh light, as though holding the weight of her entire future. Her hands trembled slightly, but she clenched them into fists, willing herself to stay strong.

She took a deep breath, clenching her trembling hands into fists. It's just one injection, she tried to convince herself. But the moment Geon-woo spoke again, her resolve faltered.

"The issue is what comes afterward."

"What… afterward?"

A sense of dread darkened her face.

"It varies from person to person, but it involves intense pain,"

he said, his voice unnervingly calm for someone delivering such grim news.

"After all, this is a procedure designed to enhance human capabilities beyond what ordinary people can achieve."

Yu-na didn't respond. She closed her eyes tightly, questions swirling in her mind.

What if it fails? What if I die in agony, achieving nothing? Could I endure this? Would I regret this choice, or would regret come too late to matter?

But all those questions coalesced into a single thought:

There's no other choice. If I falter now, I'll never find justice for my family. Pain is temporary—failure is forever.

Dressed in a thin green surgical gown, Yu-na stepped into the sterile operating room. The sharp scent of alcohol stung her nose, and the low hum of machines reverberated like an ominous warning. The fluorescent lights above her buzzed faintly, casting a stark white glow that reflected off the metallic surfaces. Every shadow seemed sharper, every sound amplified. The thin, cold fabric of the gown brushed against her skin, intensifying her nerves.

Soon after, Yu-na lay on the cold, metallic operating table. Nurses entered and began strapping down her arms and legs. The feeling of being firmly restrained made it hard to breathe.

"Why are you tying me down?" Yu-na managed to ask.

"It's to keep you from moving during the procedure. It's for your safety, so don't worry,"

Geon-woo answered, his voice steady.

He had an uncanny ability to make her feel even more uneasy. Yu-na bit her lip, holding back any further questions to avoid escalating her anxiety.

"Alright, I'm administering the injection now. It'll sting a bit,"

Geon-woo said, holding the syringe filled with the transparent liquid.

Yu-na instinctively tensed as the cold needle pierced her skin. The initial prick of the needle was mild, almost insignificant. But within seconds, a fiery torrent surged through her veins, as though molten metal were being poured into her body. Every nerve screamed in agony, each second stretching into eternity. It was as though fire coursed through her veins, igniting every nerve.

The initial sting exploded into a fiery torrent, molten heat searing through her veins. Every nerve felt like it was being flayed with blades. She couldn't hold back her scream.

"Ahhh!"

Yu-na thrashed against the restraints, desperate to escape the unbearable pain. She gritted her teeth, trying to endure, but her entire body trembled violently. Her heart pounded wildly, cold sweat dripped down her face, and the agony seemed to scorch every fiber of her being.

"Ms. Yu-na, hold on a little longer. This pain is just the price for a new beginning. Once it's over, you'll gain strength beyond anyone's imagination,"

Geon-woo's voice said, though it sounded distant.

Yu-na barely managed to nod. Yet, a single thought echoed in her mind:

I must endure. If I fail here, everything ends—my vengeance, my purpose, my family's memory.

***

Saeya sat on a chair placed outside the funeral hall.

Cheol-su Kim had failed to recover even a fragment of his parents' remains. He had watched their ashes scatter into the wind, the sight searing itself into his memory like a cruel brand. Yet, he refused to let himself fully acknowledge it, knowing it would break him.

The existence of funerals in this world didn't surprise her much. After all, this world was similar to the one she had come from.

Would things have turned out differently if I had told Cheol-su the truth?

Countless possibilities swirled in her mind.

If I had revealed everything to him, would the situation now be any different?

But she quickly shook her head. The outcome was already determined. No matter how much one struggled, the trajectory of fate wasn't easily altered.

The weight of deceiving Cheol-su pressed down like a boulder, heavier with each passing moment. She had convinced herself that withholding the full truth was necessary—her only option. But was it truly the right choice? Was protecting her secret worth the growing chasm between them, or the shadow of betrayal that loomed over their fragile alliance?

Clenching her teeth, she steeled herself. The guilt smoldering within her was something she tried to push aside with a cold resolve.

A black car glided into the funeral grounds, its polished surface gleaming under the dim afternoon sun. It moved slowly, almost ceremonially, slicing through the heavy stillness like a predator stalking its prey. Wails of grief echoed faintly, intermingling with the rhythmic creak of the wind-chimes swaying gently near the entrance, their haunting melody amplifying the sorrowful atmosphere.

Cheol-su, having finished all the rituals, appeared composed. Throughout the entire funeral, he hadn't shed a single tear. His face showed no emotion, as if everything inside him had been shut off, leaving only a deep focus etched in his expression.

His younger sister emerged first. Her face carried the unmistakable sorrow of someone who had lost something precious.

I must have worn that same expression once,

Saeya thought.

Hastily shaking her head, she forced herself to suppress the memories trying to surface.

Cheol-su's sister took a seat on a chair far away from where Saeya was sitting.

Shortly after, Cheol-su walked toward Saeya.

"Let me ask you one thing,"

he said.

Saeya met his gaze without averting her eyes.

"What is it?"

"You didn't actually see my parents being killed, did you?"

"No, I didn't see… that much."

For a moment, Cheol-su said nothing, locking eyes with Saeya. His piercing gaze wasn't just searching for lies—it carried a quiet anger, a frustration born from losing everything and knowing he had no choice but to rely on her. The intensity of his stare made it hard to look away.

"Why… why are you looking at me like that?"

"Are you sure?"

His voice became sharper, more demanding. His piercing gaze seemed to weigh her words, as if trying to discern truth from lies.

"I'm sure."

Saeya hesitated briefly but quickly made up her mind, responding with conviction.

"Alright, I'll believe you."

His words were simple, but she couldn't tell if he meant them or if he just wanted to end the conversation.

"I'm going to start my revenge now," he said, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. It carried a weight that left no room for doubt, no space for hesitation.

"If you want to help me, stay. If you don't, you're free to leave. But don't get in my way. I have no patience left for distractions."

His voice was as cold as ice, and his eyes were filled with an unwavering determination to abandon everything for the sake of vengeance.

"If that's what you want, then I'll do it,"

she said, her voice steady despite the storm brewing inside her.

"I need your help anyway."

As the words left her lips, she couldn't help but wonder if she was making a choice she would one day regret.

"Right, to find your mother," he said.

Saeya nodded instead of replying.

"Like I said before, I'll help you. So I hope you'll do the same for me, with no secrets. From now on, we're comrades. But remember this, Saeya—betray me, and there will be no forgiveness."

Once again, Saeya nodded in agreement.

"Then let's head back to the main house together,"

Cheol-su said.

Everything was unfolding exactly as Saeya had foreseen. Of course, it was the "real" future she had seen, the one she hadn't told anyone about.

***

During the funeral for his parents—an empty ritual without their bodies—Cheol-su Kim clenched his teeth so hard it felt as if they might crack. It was a searing, all-consuming rage—an inferno that scorched every corner of his soul, more vivid and blinding than anything he had ever endured.

The funeral hall was steeped in a subdued sorrow. Occasional sobs could be heard, but Cheol-su, trapped in his own world, seemed to hear nothing. The white chrysanthemums atop the empty caskets seemed to mock him, their fragile beauty a cruel reminder of the parents he could no longer touch.

"What a sudden and tragic loss…"

"Our deepest condolences."

"You must be devastated."

Many visitors came to offer their condolences, giving Cheol-su glimpses into the lives his parents had lived.

His father had been an excellent, kind teacher, husband, and father.

His mother had been a diligent, compassionate nurse, wife, and mother.

And someone had killed them. They had deliberately hurled a fireball at them. It was clear the perpetrator wasn't an ordinary person.

Why? Who could have done this? Was it deliberate, or were his parents mere collateral damage in an attack targeting Kang-hyeok Lee or his gang?

Questions swirled chaotically in his mind.

The chances of the attack having been directly aimed at his parents were slim.

They weren't the kind of people who would provoke anyone's hatred.

That left only one conclusion.

"Kang-hyeok…"

Cheol-su quietly murmured the name. The answer had to lie within the web of connections surrounding him.

Throughout the funeral, he maintained a composed facade while sifting through the memories of those he had killed. Reading memories felt like wandering through an endless maze, with countless scenes and voices crashing over him like waves. His sole focus was to find the individual capable of throwing fireballs.

Reading memories wasn't something that could be completed quickly. It felt like reading someone's autobiography.

Still, he concentrated and meticulously examined every memory.

He found no one with the ability to throw fireballs. But he did uncover two other names: Red Mask and Spark.

These weren't just aliases. They belonged to two figures who controlled the shadows of South Korea's three major criminal organizations. The mere mention of their names inspired fear.

Red Mask, hidden behind his crimson mask, orchestrated operations with ruthless precision, leaving no trace. Spark, on the other hand, thrived on chaos, his explosive temper carving bloody paths wherever he went.

Cheol-su stared at his parents' empty caskets for a long time before letting out a deep sigh.

I will avenge them—no matter the cost, no matter the path I must take.

He slowly turned around and walked out, cutting through the heavy air of the funeral hall with each step. As he crossed the threshold, the stark contrast between the hall's cold atmosphere and the blazing sunlight outside hit him like a blow to the chest. The harshness of reality struck him like a blow, cold and unrelenting, leaving no room for escape.

After exchanging a few words with Saeya, he approached his sister, who was sitting alone some distance away. Her face showed clear signs of exhaustion, but her gaze was resolute. Cheol-su stopped in front of her without saying a word.

He simply looked at her, saying nothing for a long time.

In that silence, she lifted her head to meet his eyes. What passed between them wasn't words. It was determination—a shared strength to endure.

"I'll move all your stuff to my house. Just know that,"

Cheol-su said firmly. Yu-hwa nodded without a word.

"Living in the house where Mom and Dad lived… it's just…"

Cheol-su trailed off. Yu-hwa lowered her head without replying.

"Don't worry about the rooms. I moved into a bigger house with plenty of space."

At his mention of moving, Yu-hwa raised her head.

"You moved? When?"

"Not long ago. It's a big house with a yard."

"A house with a yard? Where did you get the money for that?"

Yu-hwa's skeptical expression made Cheol-su give an awkward smile.

"I won the lottery."

Yu-hwa stared at him, her gaze fixed on the floor as if lost in thought. After a moment, a short sigh escaped her lips.

"People who win the lottery usually go broke fast."

Cheol-su cautiously sat beside her.

"Don't think about that right now," Cheol-su said softly, his voice unusually gentle. "Focus on your studies. That's what Mom and Dad would have wanted."

Yu-hwa looked up at him. Her eyes were filled with exhaustion and despair, but beneath that lay emotions far more complex.

"College, success—what's the point? In the end, death makes it all meaningless."

Her voice was barely above a whisper, yet each word felt like a knife carving through Cheol-su's chest, leaving behind a raw, aching emptiness.

"Yu-hwa,"

he finally said, his voice low and heavy.

"I…"

He started to speak but couldn't find the right words. Her gaze passed through him, fixed somewhere in the void, reflecting the traces of emotions worn out by grief.

"Fine. I get it. Let's just go home. I'm tired."

With a sigh, Yu-hwa turned her head and gestured toward Saeya, who was sitting on a nearby chair.

"But… you're not planning to bring your girlfriend to live with us, are you?"

"She's not my girlfriend; she's a friend. And she'll stay with us for a while. She doesn't have anywhere else to go."

"Do whatever you want."

Cheol-su, Yu-hwa, and Saeya returned to their parents' house in strained silence.

The family home had four bedrooms, so space wasn't an issue. Cheol-su took his old room, Yu-hwa stayed in hers, and Saeya was given the guest room.

Of course, Cheol-su had already set up a separate hideout for his Executor activities. He couldn't let his sister be exposed to any danger.

Once they settled Yu-hwa at home, Cheol-su and Saeya headed straight to the hideout, the weight of their mission pressing heavily on their shoulders. Taking out his Executor mask, Cheol-su turned to Saeya.

"Are you sure you're up for this?"

He couldn't help but worry about Saeya's slender frame.

"Do you even know who I really am?" she asked, her tone filled with quiet confidence.

"What are you talking about?"

Cheol-su frowned.

"I'm an assassin. Quick, quiet, and lethal. If you want to win this war, you have no choice but to rely on me."

she declared, her smirk sharp as a blade.

"Quick, quiet, and deadly. That's who I am—and who I've always been."

she declared with a sly smirk, her voice dripping with confidence. In one swift motion, she revealed an array of concealed weapons—a gleaming dagger, throwing knives, and a compact pistol—each appearing as if conjured out of thin air.

"When did you even—"

"I told you. I'm an assassin. Quiet, quick, and lethal."

Cheol-su thought he'd have to learn more about her past later—after dealing with Red Mask and Spark.

The problem was finding their hideout. No matter how much he sifted through the memories of those he'd killed, he couldn't locate them. They had always been the ones to approach the gangsters.

"We'll drag them out of hiding,"

Cheol-su said, his voice sharp and unyielding.

"Whatever it takes."

Cheol-su said, his voice cold and unyielding. The weight of his determination hung in the air, a promise of retribution that would soon unfold.