The room was dim and silent.
Mae-Bi sat on the edge of the bedroll, sharpening his dagger with slow, steady strokes. The faint scrape of steel on stone was the only sound.
Then—
A knock.
Three soft taps.
His hand froze mid-motion.
That rhythm.
That voice, a moment later:
"Mae-Bi, you in there?"
It was warm.Unnaturally warm for a place like this.
Mae-Bi didn't answer right away. He just stared at the door, breathing quietly.
That voice… It can't be.
CRACK.
The door creaked open.
A boy stepped inside, scroll in hand, grinning like they weren't all bred to kill.
"Finally found you," he said. "Squad leader assigned us to the same team. Looks like we're on mission duty together."
Mae-Bi looked up.
And there he was.
Jin Seori.
Same gentle tone. Same easy smile. Messy black hair that never quite followed rules. A little taller now than he remembered, but the eyes they hadn't changed.
Eyes that didn't belong in this place.
In Mae-Bi's past life, Jin Seori had been the only one who tried to leave the cult out of principle, not fear. The only one who spoke about love. About freedom. About meaning.
He had died for it.
The centipede in his heart had torn him apart the moment he stepped beyond the mountains.
Back then, Mae-Bi hadn't known what to feel.
Now, it was like someone had reached into his chest and squeezed.
He swallowed the lump in his throat.
"You're late," he said flatly.
Seori laughed, stepping in and tossing the scroll down beside him. "Not my fault. Handler made me do breathing drills with a guy who smelled like dead frogs."
Mae-Bi didn't respond. He couldn't.
He just watched him. Quietly.
Seori sat down, cross-legged, completely unaware of the storm in Mae-Bi's chest.
"First mission as a squad. Just a patrol, nothing exciting. But hey maybe we get lucky and someone tries to kill us. Wouldn't that be fun?"
Mae-Bi scoffed.
"Hilarious."
"See? You do have a personality."
Seori grinned again and leaned back on his palms. "You seemed kind of cold when I first saw you. But I dunno. Right now You've got this… old-man vibe. Like you've seen everything already."
Mae-Bi didn't answer.
Instead, he turned away slightly, pretending to check his blade.
Behind the mask of indifference, his heart was heavy.
I couldn't save you last time.
But as Seori laughed again, something stirred in Mae-Bi's chest.
Not pain.
Gratitude.
He was alive.
That was enough for now.
"…Let's go," Mae-Bi muttered, standing up.
Seori rose too, stretching with a groan. "You know, you could smile at least once before we die."
Mae-Bi didn't smile.
Smiling wasn't something they were trained to do especially not before a mission, no matter how small. Even the simplest task could turn into a grave if you dropped your guard.
He pulled on his black uniform, adjusted the wrappings around his arms, and slid his twin daggers into their sheaths. Then he reached for the face wrap a cloth mask soaked in the cult's bitter scent of ash and poison.
Behind him, Seori waited patiently.
Mae-Bi opened the door and stepped out, the younger assassin falling into step beside him.
They moved through the outer yard in silence.One crouch, one breath, one leap they cleared the fence and landed on the far side of the compound wall.
The forest greeted them like a second home dark, still, and waiting.
The two of them sprinted through the undergrowth, using light leaps to glide over roots and uneven ground. But Seori was fast. Too fast.
Mae-Bi clicked his tongue.
I always hated this part.
Veil Step was a technique for silent movement, but using it while half-awake and trying to keep up with someone naturally quicker was just insulting.
Then the system's voice echoed in his mind, smooth and precise:
[Would you like to copy his movement technique and replicate its precision?]
Mae-Bi stiffened.
…You can do that?
[Affirmative. Skill replication possible through continuous observation and spiritual link. Processing now…]
[Replication cost: 3 System Points. Confirm?]
Do it, he thought immediately.
A pause.
Then—
[Confirmed. Replicating…]
A sharp spike of pain lanced through Mae-Bi's head. Like a needle threading through his mind, tugging and twisting at muscle memory that didn't exist yet.
He gritted his teeth but a sharp breath escaped him.
"Gah—!"
Seori skidded to a stop and doubled back.
"You alright?"
Mae-Bi straightened, steadying his breath. His vision had already cleared.
"…Nothing. Keep moving."
Seori hesitated for a second, then nodded and took off again.
Jin was ahead of Mae-Bi, glancing back every few steps.
He knew Mae-Bi was the slowest when it came to speed drills — never won a single footrace during training. But even so, Jin always held back a little. Just enough so Mae-Bi wouldn't feel like dead weight.
That's the kind of person he was.
But then—
Whoosh.
Mae-Bi suddenly surged forward, passing Jin with silent, clean steps.
Jin blinked. "…Huh?"
Mae-Bi didn't look back. He was moving like the wind — sharp, fluid, controlled. The Veil Step technique he'd struggled with for years now came effortlessly.
Four years to master this in my first life, he thought. Now I've perfected it in a glance.
He smirked to himself. Not too much just enough to enjoy the moment.
Jin caught up quickly, matching pace. "Hey! Since when could you do that? You were always last in drills."
"I've been training," Mae-Bi replied, tone flat. "Secretly."
"Sure you have." Jin rolled his eyes, grinning. "Guess you're full of surprises now."
Before Mae-Bi could answer, a voice cut through the trees like a knife:
"You two seem to think this mission is a game."
Both of them froze mid-step and turned.
Behind them, silent as death, was Cho Gwan their squad senior.
Narrow-eyed. Blank expression. Barely eighteen, yet already their team's appointed leader. Not because of rank, but because he was effective. Fast. Efficient. Cold.
A perfect product of the cult's brainwashing.
"We apologize, Squad Leader," Mae-Bi and Jin said in unison, bowing slightly.
Cho Gwan stared at them a moment longer, then said:
"Take this seriously. We don't serve each other. We serve the Heavenly Demon."
"Yes, Squad Leader."
Cho Gwan turned without another word and leapt forward into the trees.
Jin and Mae-Bi followed close behind, their footsteps silent across the branches.
Their first mission wasn't glamorous.
Just a routine patrol between two outposts.
But in the Demonic Cult, even "routine" could become a bloodbath in seconds.
"Three exits," Jin muttered under his breath, eyes scanning the terrain. "Two elevation points. No Qi signatures so far."
"You're too loud," Cho Gwan snapped without looking back.
Jin grimaced but fell silent immediately.
Mae-Bi said nothing.
His ears were open. His steps precise. Every movement measured.