The Silence of the Fourth Death

Nam's eyes narrowed as he took in the details of the door. It was painted a deep brown, and the walls were crafted from stone bricks, adorned with golden spiral patterns. But someone had made the questionable decision to paint the wall gray. Nam couldn't help but grimace. *What a terrible choice,* he thought.

His gaze shifted to a poster nearby. It was nothing but text—no images, no flair, just words. Nam sighed. "What a terrible choice!" he muttered under his breath. He couldn't read it, but the message was clear enough: it was a job posting.

Steeling himself, Nam pushed the door open and stepped inside. The interior was a stark contrast to the drab exterior. The walls were lined with dark wood, and towering bookshelves filled every available space. A heavy oak table dominated the center of the room, cluttered with old medical instruments, handwritten books, and bottles filled with dried herbs.

In the corner sat a wide leather armchair, facing an ornate high-backed chair. A writing desk by the window was strewn with quills and wax seals. Oil lamps hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, hazy glow over the room. A faint scent of incense and the musty aroma of old books filled the air.

The room was nearly empty, save for two people: a woman and a man. The woman appeared to be in her thirties, her hair pulled into a tight bun, not a strand out of place. She wore a dark, high-collared maroon dress made of fine fabric, with a small antique silver necklace around her neck. Her fingers were long and slender, resting delicately on the arm of her chair.

The man was tall and well-built, with a commanding presence. His gray hair was swept back, and his face was expressionless, his sharp jawline and piercing eyes giving him an air of intensity. He wore a long dark brown coat and slim-fitting trousers with subtle stripes. In his hands was a thick, ancient-looking book, its maroon cover worn with age.

The woman, Margot, took a slow drag from her pipe before addressing Nam. "Welcome. What brings you here?"

Nam hesitated, his eyes darting around the room. He was captivated by the atmosphere, something he had only read about in books. "Well, the job posting—" he began, but Margot cut him off.

"You're hired. No need to say more." Nam blinked, stunned. *Wait, I didn't even finish my sentence!* he thought, but Margot's indifferent expression told him arguing was pointless.

Before he could protest further, Margot continued, "We're psychologists." Nam's jaw tightened. *Can I kill her?* he wondered, but quickly dismissed the thought. *No, I can't. Damn it!*

Margot gestured to the man. "I'm Margot, and that's Bastian, who has incredibly bad taste." She took another puff from her pipe, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied Nam.

Bastian didn't even glance up from his book. He seemed completely absorbed in its contents, his expression unreadable.

Margot waved a hand dismissively. "Come back tomorrow for work. We're closed today. Now, get out of my sight." Her tone was cold, and Nam knew better than to argue.

As he turned to leave, he noticed Bastian's eyes flicker toward the necklace he wore, but the man said nothing. Nam stepped out into the night, his mind racing. He walked aimlessly, his thoughts consumed by questions he couldn't answer.

Was Luth safe? Reina was strong enough to survive, but what about Luth? Why did he feel so attached to her? Was this world even real? What was the meaning of existence? Why did humans die if they were created by God? If heaven was the reward, why didn't God make the world a better place? Was it because of humans?

Nam's thoughts spiraled as he wandered through the empty streets. He turned into a narrow alley, barely wide enough for two people, and decided to spend the night there. He lay down on the cold ground, his mind still churning with unanswered questions.

---

Nam's eyes snapped open as a dagger struck the ground where he had just been lying. He rolled to the side, his heart pounding. Standing before him was World, a figure he had hoped never to see again.

World was tall, about 1.90 meters, with a balanced physique and deep blue eyes that seemed to pierce through the darkness. His dark brown hair was slightly wavy, and he wore a high-collared dark blue outfit with light shoulder armor. His boots were sturdy and unassuming, and a hat sat atop his head. His face was partially obscured by a metal mask, painted pure black, leaving only his eyes visible.

In his hand was Cosmic Fang, a dagger that gleamed ominously in the dim light. World's voice was cold and calm as he spoke. "Give me the parchment."

Nam's mind raced. He remembered the words written on the parchment: *"If you're reading this, know this—right now, you will either kill or be killed."* He clenched his fists, trying to steady his breathing.

"Like I'd give it to you!" Nam shot back, his voice trembling. "Save me first, then kill me, huh?"

World didn't respond. Instead, he took a step forward, his dagger gleaming. "Five seconds," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

Nam didn't wait. He turned and ran, his feet pounding against the cobblestone streets. He could hear World's footsteps behind him, growing louder with each passing second. His lungs burned, but he pushed himself to keep going.

He turned into another alley, his mind racing as he tried to calculate his next move. The alley was cluttered with barrels and crates, forcing him to slow down and jump over obstacles. His heart pounded in his chest as he realized how dire the situation was.

World was gaining on him, breaking through walls and closing the distance with terrifying speed. Nam's fear doubled as he realized he was running out of time.

"I'm going to die, I'm going to die!" Nam's vision blurred, and he could barely feel his body, but he kept running. He turned another corner, heading toward the city center, but World was already there, waiting for him.

Nam stumbled and fell to the ground, his body trembling. World stood over him, his dagger raised. "I remember you," World said, his voice cold. "You're the kid who died at the hands of those two, right?"

Nam's eyes widened as realization struck him. World had saved him from those two entities, but now he thought Nam was dead. Nam's body shook, and he could feel sweat and blood mixing on his skin.

World's eyes narrowed as he studied Nam. "Answer me. How did you not die?"

Nam's voice trembled as he spoke. "I don't know… I just…" He reached into his pocket and pulled out the parchment, handing it over. "Here, take it."

World took the parchment, but before he could examine it, Nam tore it in half. "Even if I give it to you, will you let me go? I don't think so!" Nam shouted, his voice filled with desperation.

World's eyes flashed with anger. "Hey!" he shouted, swinging his dagger. Nam's head rolled to the ground, his body collapsing in a heap.

For Nam, the world seemed to stop. He felt as if he were being pushed away by unseen hands, rejected by both heaven and hell. He was in purgatory, a place where he didn't belong.

World picked up the torn parchment, his eyes widening as he realized it was blank. This was Nam's fourth death, but the story of his first two deaths remained untold—a mystery that would be revealed in time.

Nam's body lay still, his head staring up at the night sky. His final thoughts were filled with regret. He could have lived a good life, full of adventures, but now it was over. His biggest regret was looking at World with the eyes of a killer.

World stood over Nam's lifeless body, his expression unreadable. The parchment was blank, but the truth it held was far more complex than anyone could imagine. The cycle continued, and Nam's story was far from over.