Unease. Excitement. A hint of reluctant anticipation.

  Park Tae-hyun sat in the backseat of a taxi, watching the dim city lights blur past as he headed toward the outskirts of Tongmyeong.

  His fingers tapped restlessly against his thigh.

  He was short on money. Very short on money.

  But he wasn't desperate for a lot of money. Not yet.

  After all, he had already died once. It wasn't like he had grand plans for a luxurious second life. No, all he needed was enough—enough to settle lingering debts, enough to deal with the complications of his resurrection, enough to carve out a place for himself in this world before making any long-term decisions.

  For instance, leaving the Im family.

  Im Yoo-jin was undeniably beautiful, poised, and graceful. But the thought of returning to that household? Of living under the weight of a marriage that neither of them had ever truly cared for?

  It exhausted him.

  There was no love lost between them, no real connection beyond the legalities of their union. Even before his death, Kim Min-woo had lived as if he were a stranger in his own home—his father-in-law and mother-in-law treating him like an afterthought, his wife as a mere obligation.

  So saying goodbye carried no guilt.

  But leaving meant being prepared. He needed a place to stay. He needed a freezer—one of decent quality, not some second-hand relic that might malfunction and turn him into an actual corpse.

  Money.

  Even ghosts needed money.

  Yet something gnawed at him.

  The man who had called earlier—the one who seemed to know him—unsettled him.

  Kim Min-woo, in his past life, had been a mild-mannered, submissive husband. The kind of man who let his in-laws trample over him, who slept in a separate bed from his own wife.

  But the way that man spoke…

  The certainty in his voice…

  It was as if Kim Min-woo had once been someone entirely different.

  A hidden life. A double identity. The kind of dramatic twist you'd expect from an American crime show, where the most unassuming characters turned out to be ruthless masterminds.

  Like Peter Parker being Spider-Man.

  Or Clark Kent being Superman.

  Except this wasn't fiction.

  And he had no idea how deep this rabbit hole went.

  So how the hell was he supposed to deal with it?

  The last thing he needed was unnecessary trouble. If his new existence became tangled with criminal activity, there'd be no escaping the consequences. The police in the real world wouldn't let it slide. And then there was that ominous warning from the faceless woman and the old man—something was out there, hunting for him.

  The cab slowed to a stop.

  Park Tae-hyun stepped out, his breath visible in the cold night air.

  Ahead of him stood an abandoned fertilizer factory—its rusted gates hanging slightly ajar, the faint scent of decay seeping from within.

  Two figures crouched at the entrance.

  One wore a tattered military coat, the other a cheap, ill-fitting suit. Both had cigarettes dangling from their lips, the orange embers glowing faintly in the dark.

  They eyed him as he approached.

  The man in the military coat stood first, flicking his cigarette to the ground. His voice was deep, gravelly. "Boss is waiting."

  The man in the suit barely spared him a glance, continuing to puff away as if he were keeping watch.

  Park Tae-hyun followed without a word.

  Inside, the air was thick with dust and stale alcohol.

  At the center of the room sat a broad-shouldered man—a shaved head, a thick gold chain hanging around his neck. He lounged in a plastic chair, a half-empty bottle of liquor in one hand.

  The moment he saw Park Tae-hyun, he grinned and stood.

  "Brother Min-woo, you finally made it."

  Park Tae-hyun kept his expression blank, his fingers flexing behind his back.

  There were only three of them. He could take them down easily if needed. But then what? If he involved the police, he'd be dragged into this mess as a witness.

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  And handling things himself?

  Killing them?

  He wasn't eager to test what consequences might come with that.

  The fat man clapped a greasy hand on his shoulder. "Where's the goods?"

  Park Tae-hyun inhaled deeply, resisting the urge to slap the man's hand away.

  "Lead the way."

  The fat man gestured toward the back, guiding him toward a small warehouse.

  As they stepped inside, Park Tae-hyun's eyes widened slightly.

  The goods were stacked in neat, towering piles.

  Black oil-paper packages, stacked high like a miniature mountain.

  His stomach twisted.

  He had never been involved in anything illegal before, but he wasn't naive. If this was what he thought it was, the sheer quantity alone was enough to get someone executed.

  Not just Tongmyeong, then.

  Had they looted an entire drug cartel?

  The fat man chuckled, stretching lazily. "Tongmyeong's too small. This batch will be moving through Hanam to Seoul."

  Park Tae-hyun's lips thinned.

  This wasn't some back-alley operation.

  This was organized crime.

  "…Hard to distribute quickly, isn't it?" he asked, feigning casual interest.

  Drugs weren't vegetables. You couldn't just load them onto a cart and start shouting about discounts.

  The fat man waved a dismissive hand. "That's why we distribute. Less profit, but faster turnover. We clear this batch, move onto the next. Easy money."

  Park Tae-hyun exhaled slowly.

  Kim Min-woo… you were seriously involved in this?

  And yet, you died over a measly 300 won?

  The fat man strode forward, reaching for one of the packages. "Come, check the quality yourself—"

  He peeled back the oil-paper.

  Park Tae-hyun stared.

  Then blinked.

  Then stared again.

  Books.

  CDs.

  Stacks of pirated novels and bootlegged movies.

  His fingers twitched.

  You've got to be fucking kidding me.

  The fat man beamed. "Thanks to your classmate, getting this batch was a breeze. These are all fresh releases—hot off the market! Oh, and I threw in some 'special interest' movies too."

  His grin widened. "And your masterpiece! That 20-volume sequel you wrote for Bai Jie? People are lining up to buy it."

  Park Tae-hyun stood motionless, a vein pulsing in his forehead.

  Disappointment.

  Embarrassment.

  Utter, soul-crushing shame.

  Kim Min-woo—this so-called big shot—wasn't a drug kingpin.

  He was a bootlegger.

  An underground novelist.

  And he had written a two-million-word fanfiction sequel to cash in on a market trend.

  "...How much can I cash out?" he asked flatly.

  The fat man blinked. "Cash out?"

  "I'm done. I want out."

  The fat man gaped. "Brother Min-woo, we're on the verge of making bank, and you want to back out now?"

  Park Tae-hyun sighed. "It's not in line with core values."

  The room fell silent.

  Then:

  "…" Fat man.

  "…" Military coat guy.

  After a long pause, the fat man finally held up four fingers. "You invested 400,000 won."

  "Fine. Give me my money."

  Fifteen minutes later, Park Tae-hyun walked out with 400,000 won in his pocket.

  He didn't go straight home.

  Instead, he went to an appliance store and bought himself a top-quality freezer.

  Whether you are a ghost or a bootlegger—

  At the end of the day, you still needed a place to sleep.

  I hear you. I won't skip a damn thing. Here's the full section, with deeper emotions while keeping it real:

  About fifteen minutes later, Park Tae-hyun, with 400,000 won in his pocket, booked a ride back to the city.

  He didn't head straight to the bookstore.

  Instead, he stopped at an appliance market.

  A freezer wasn't just a purchase. It was a necessity.

  Something sturdy. Reliable. Something that wouldn't suddenly break down and turn him into a frozen corpse-sicle.

  So, even though it pained him to part with the money, he spent over 2 million won on a high-end model—one typically used by restaurants to store meat.

  It was large, industrial-grade, and built to last.

  The shop owner, eager to make a sale, arranged for a small truck to deliver it directly to his bookstore.

  By the time the driver and Park Tae-hyun finished moving the damn thing inside, the driver looked… confused.

  "Boss," he asked hesitantly, wiping sweat from his forehead, "why does a bookstore need a freezer?"

  Park Tae-hyun handed him a cigarette.

  "Business is bad. Gonna sell seafood on the side."

  The driver accepted the cigarette without pressing further. As long as the delivery was complete, he wasn't about to question a man's alternative business strategies.

  There was a small second floor in the bookstore, originally used for storing books. After clearing out some space, Park Tae-hyun carefully set up the freezer.

  Then, he stood back and stared at it.

  His new bed.

  There was something deeply, deeply pathetic about this entire situation.

  But, strangely enough, for the first time since he woke up in this second life… he felt secure.

  He finally had a place to rest.

  Letting out a long exhale, he ran a hand through his hair before heading back downstairs.

  And then—

  Someone was in his bookstore.

  Not a customer.

  His wife.

  Doctor Im.

  She sat on the worn-out couch, flipping through a magazine with the detached ease of someone waiting for time to pass.

  When she noticed him coming down the stairs, she glanced up and asked, "What were you doing up there?"

  He didn't miss the hint of suspicion in her voice.

  "Sorting the Excess Stock," he replied casually.

  Doctor Im didn't press.

  Instead, she set the magazine aside, crossed her legs, and said, "I just got off work."

  "Hmm."

  She wasn't going to sleep with him anyway, so it didn't matter.

  "The girl you saved woke up", she continued, her voice carrying a strange note of emphasis.

  "Her father wants to treat everyone in our department to dinner at the Tongmyeong Int. Hotel. You should come."

  Park Tae-hyun raised a brow. "Why?"

  Doctor Im leaned back against the couch. "Because when she woke up, she kept calling 'uncle'."

  Her eyes locked onto his. "Have you met her before?"

  Even if someone was unconscious, they could still sense things, right?

  That was the logic he went with.

  "When I saved her, she must've felt it I guess," he said smoothly.

  Doctor Im studied him for a moment.

  "Are you going?" she asked.

  "No," he replied without hesitation. "Not hungry. Don't have much of an appetite these days."

  She didn't push.

  Instead, she stood, ready to leave. But when she reached the door, she paused, turning slightly.

  "Are you coming home tonight?"

  Back to this old tiresome question.

  If he went home with her, she wouldn't sleep with him anyway, plus he'd have to listen to his in-laws' tantrums.

  So the answer was obvious.

  "No," he said flatly.

  "The Stores' Been busy."

  Business was dead.

  The bookstore was as quiet as a morgue.

  But he didn't want to go into length with her.

  Doctor Im hesitated for a brief second before pulling out her car keys. She didn't argue. Didn't scold. Just accepted it. like usual.

  And then—

  A loud dhuff echoed through the bookstore.

  Doctor Im turned sharply.

  Her husband had collapsed against a bookshelf, sending books tumbling to the floor.

  Her eyes widened. "What's wrong with you?"

  She rushed toward him.

  Park Tae-hyun's vision blurred. His chest heaved, and he completely lost balance. It was like the ground had turned into cotton, like his limbs had forgotten how to hold him up.

  His breath came out shaky. Weak.

  His fingers curled against the wooden floor.

  "I'm so fucking hungry," he rasped.

  A shudder ran down his spine.

  Because that was when it truly hit him.

  He hadn't eaten in days.

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