A Life Turned Upside Down
As though black ink had spread through water, his vision went completely dark.
A strange sensation washed over his entire body, like he was walking through deep water.
Of everything else, one thing was certain: he was being dragged somewhere.
Drawn in. Sucked deeper and deeper into the far distance.
So this is the road to hell, huh.
The thought had barely formed when the pitch-black world bleached white, then quickly filled with color.
At the same time, feeling began to return to his body, inch by inch.
"Hey! Shit, I think we're fucked! This bastard isn't breathing!"
He opened his eyes again.
His eyes rolled as he swept his surroundings.
".....?"
Unfamiliar.
And yet so vivid that it felt unreal.
"What the hell are you babbling about, idiot? His eyes are wide open, aren't they?"
"Huh?"
At his friend’s words, the curly-haired boy turned his head.
Where his gaze landed, a student in a dirt-stained school uniform was staring blankly around the area, looking every bit as lost as a newborn calf.
"Wh-what is this? He definitely wasn’t breathing just a second ago..."
They had been beating him with enthusiasm, then one mistake had led to his head being stomped too hard.
He had slammed into the hard cement floor with far too much force.
At first, they’d figured he had simply blacked out and waited, killing time with a smoke break—but even after ten minutes, he still hadn’t woken up.
Alarmed, they had checked beneath his nose, only to find no breath at all.
Their heads had gone white with panic, and now that he was up and looking perfectly fine, they felt both relieved and annoyed as hell.
Thwack!
"You little shit, Song Tan! You scared us half to death! We thought you were dead!"
The curly-haired boy—who was wearing three-striped slippers—swung them in his hand and smacked Song Tan, No. 28, across the head.
The dull impact sent his vision rocking, and at the same time, someone else’s memories came surging into his mind like a tidal wave.
As if two gears that had been misaligned for far too long were suddenly forced into place.
Two different sets of memories converged into a single point.
The vividly remembered stench of fresh blood from moments ago.
A cold stone floor, rusted chains, torture implements caked with layer upon layer of blood.
Even the strategist Zhuge Gun, who had met a miserable death as little more than a stain of blood and water.
Am I No. 28, or Song Tan, a second-year student at Cheongsol High School?
The pain in his skull was so fierce that his face twisted on its own.
The darkness of the torture chamber and the shadow of the school grounds began to overlap, bit by bit.
The shapes of the suffering were different, but their end was much the same.
The two memories did not devour one another.
Nor were they erased.
They simply layered together.
The monster who had lived hidden in the shadows of the Murim Alliance, and the boy who had been crushed to death by school violence.
Those two beings had opened their eyes inside a single body.
No. 28’s coldness cooled Song Tan’s fear, and Song Tan’s rage awakened No. 28’s numbness.
He didn’t know what kind of impossible event had caused this, but one thing was clear.
One side had died, and the other had died as well.
So what remained now was neither one nor the other, and yet both at once.
"Damn, this bastard really lost it."
"Holy shit, man, you should go into acting. I really thought I was done for when you were gasping like that."
"You’ve really outdone yourself now, haven’t you?"
His vision sharpened further.
Three boys were looking down at him, snickering.
Their faces wore that familiar expression of superiority.
Information about them surfaced naturally.
The bullying had started in his first year.
There had been no reason. Violence that began because he was irritating to look at had repeated with the regularity of breathing, until it had become part of daily life.
Song Tan’s emotionless gaze swept over their faces one by one.
Then the curly-haired one frowned harshly.
"Where the hell do you think you’re staring, you loser?"
He was the lowest in the hierarchy of the three.
Which was why he had tormented him especially viciously, desperate to prove his own worth.
"Oh? You wanna keep those eyes nice and open, do you?"
As if he intended to make an example, the curly-haired boy stepped closer.
The crooked grin, the drooping shoulders, the swaggering gait.
He was completely off guard.
But his opponent was huge, whereas Song Tan himself was so gaunt he looked as though only skin and bones remained.
Still, it didn’t matter. More than anyone, he knew exactly how vulnerable the human body was to pain, and precisely where to strike so it would collapse at once.
"You son of a bitch. You’re really dead today. Let’s just pick this day and end it."
The curly-haired boy came right up to his face.
The instant Song Tan’s foot began to move—
"Knock it off. That bastard’s already been beaten up too much today."
At his friend’s call, the curly-haired boy flinched.
Then he turned and shouted back, "Why? I’m just getting started and now you’re killing my mood!"
"What if you beat him so badly he ends up in the hospital? Shit, Hyeokjin’s going to make a scene like crazy—can you handle that?"
At that, the curly-haired boy dragged a hand roughly through his hair.
"This is fucking bullshit. How long are we supposed to keep watching that bastard’s face?"
"Tch. You fucking idiot. You can’t even say a word to him in front of his face."
The square-jawed one, who had been laughing along, stepped forward and hooked an arm around Song Tan’s neck.
"Hey, Stupid Tan. Whatever happens, get me thirty thousand won by tonight. Shit, it’s not like thirty grand is anything huge, right? Right?"
Leaning in with a swagger, the square-jawed boy whispered into Song Tan’s ear.
"If you can’t come up with the money, we’ll beat you until you really do die. Got it? Your hyung believes in you, yeah? I know our stupid Tan can pull it off."
He let go of the shoulder lock and looked at the other two.
"Come on, let’s go. We’re out of cigarettes."
"Tsk, I’m not even warmed up yet."
The curly-haired boy clicked his tongue at Song Tan one last time before finally turning away.
And just like that, the three delinquents left.
"........"
Silence settled over the abandoned factory, leaving Song Tan alone in the empty ruin.
His school uniform was smeared with dirt all over.
He stood there blankly for a while, like a statue.
Then—
Stepping softly across the floor, he picked up the school jacket lying discarded on the ground and quietly left the abandoned warehouse.
***
Beneath the wealthy district of Seongbuk-dong, in a neighborhood packed tight with multi-family homes.
As Song Tan climbed the stairs, he looked down at the school uniform he was wearing.
The bloodstains had already dried to a dark red-brown, and dust had soaked into the fabric until it had gone stiff.
Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep—
Click.
When the front door shut, a silence fell that made the world feel severed from him.
Without a word, Song Tan took off his uniform.
Shirt, pants, underwear—he shoved everything into the washing machine at once and pressed the start button.
The machine rumbled to life with a heavy thud.
Then he headed straight into the bathroom.
Water poured down, washing blood-mixed grime into the drain.
When he finished showering, Song Tan looked at the mirror above the sink.
The face reflected there was still that of a seventeen-year-old boy, but the eyes were different.
They were the eyes of the Blood Questioner who had once driven countless martial artists to terror.
After a thorough shower, Song Tan changed into comfortable clothes and walked over to the refrigerator.
A yellow Post-it note was stuck to the door.
Sorry, Tan. I’ve got to go on an urgent business trip with the boss today, so I probably won’t be home until the day after tomorrow. Don’t wait around for me—there’s dinner in the fridge, so heat it up and eat. Love you.
Short sentences, a rough hand.
And yet, strangely, his eyes stung and something deep in his chest turned heavy.
He stared at the note for a long moment, then went into his room and threw himself onto the bed.
Creak—
The iron springs groaned under his weight, and the faded ceiling came into view.
What, exactly, happened to me...?
It didn’t feel like he had been shoved into a completely unrelated person’s body.
His memories of living as Song Tan were far too vivid for that.
This isn’t a dream, is it?
To test it, he pinched his cheek.
Pain shot through it clearly and sharply.
The life of Song Tan, a seventeen-year-old high school student in South Korea.
And the life of the Blood Questioner, who had lived in the shadows of the Murim Alliance as a torture specialist with no name at all.
Both were certainly real.
There wasn’t even the faintest trace of wrongness.
Slowly, Song Tan closed and opened his eyes, then lifted his hand.
It was a thin, bony hand, without much in the way of tendon or muscle for a grown man.
He didn’t know what exactly had happened, but one thing seemed certain.
A new chance has been given.
For Song Tan, and for No. 28 both.
He propped his upper body up.
A vicious pain ran through his entire frame.
Oddly enough, he found himself smiling, as if this pain were proof that he was still alive.
"This time, I’ll definitely..."
He would live differently.
He would not move stupidly only when someone else ordered him to.
He would not sell himself for words like justice or the greater good.
He would never again be manipulated like an idiot.
Song Tan made that vow with absolute resolve.
"Hoo..."
He took a deep breath in, then let it out slowly.
The heat in his head cooled a little.
He quietly closed his eyes.
This time would be different. He would live a life of his own choosing, and he would shoulder the responsibility for it himself.
And he would make his father, who had spent his whole life giving everything for him, happy.
No matter what it took, he would do it.
Song Tan kept repeating those words to himself like an incantation.
***
The next day, Song Tan went to school in a freshly washed uniform.
"You crazy son of a bitch, how dare you ignore my calls? Don’t even think about walking out of here alive today, you got that? You damn bastard?"
From early morning, he had to endure a merciless barrage of curses from the delinquents who had swarmed him like a pack of dogs.