The crimson glow of the ring on his finger flickered — once, twice — before fading into dead black. Its faint warmth vanished with it, leaving only the chill of absence. That could mean only one thing:
Time to suit up.
He glanced over at his kids, their laughter echoing like ghosts from a life he barely remembered. Their smiles were pure — untouched by the world he lived in. The world he bled in.
"Daddy's gotta go to work," he murmured — a whisper swallowed by their innocence.
They smiled wider — oblivious. That was the point.
With a slow breath, he reached for the suit. The tie — once bright red, now dull and drained of life — hung like a noose around his neck. He caught his reflection in the mirror — a flash of a man he used to know. A stranger now.
A thought — the gun appeared in his hand, smooth and silent. Its weight settled him. It was the only thing left that ever did. Another thought — gone again.
He stepped outside into the night, scrolling through the endless list of bounties on his phone. Faces. Names. Prices. His heart didn't skip. His stomach didn't turn. Nothing.
Until one job caught his eye.
It wasn't the payout. Wasn't even the target.
It just felt right.
He pocketed the phone and slid into the Lamborghini — sleek, cold, and fast, like him. The engine roared to life beneath him, a beast waiting for orders.
As the city blurred past in neon streaks, he wondered how much longer he could wear this mask — this lie of a life. His family saw him as a protector. A provider. A hero.
They didn't know what he really was.
A monster.
He remembered the first time he walked through the gates of the Contractor Academy — a kid with nothing but hunger and hate. Back then, surviving felt like the hardest thing he'd ever do.
He was wrong.
Survival was easy. Living with what survival made you do — that was the curse.
They called him Naka Not Nice back then. But names fade — like scars. Eventually, even that name fell away. Only Not Nice remained.
Years of killing shaped him. Hardened him. Hollowed him.
Until the Wraith Seal.
The ring.
It gave him back something he didn't think he could feel anymore — a piece of his soul. But it came with rules. Rules written in blood.
The ring's glow would fade with time — or worse — with peace.
To reignite it?
He had to kill.
Simple. Brutal. Necessary.
Now, with a wife who asked no questions and kids who saw him as untouchable, he worked not just to survive — but to stay human. To keep feeling. To keep the ring alive.
But the glow was gone.
And the emptiness was creeping back in.
Without the ring, he was slipping — back into the abyss. Back into the thing he swore he wouldn't be again.
A killer with nothing left to lose.
He thought of his wife — the way she pretended not to notice the late nights, the distance in his eyes. He thought of his kids — how they saw him as a superhero.
God, if only they knew.
But he couldn't stop. Not now. Not with everything on the line.
The city lights sharpened around him, cold and bright. Another job. Another life to take. Another inch lost of who he used to be.
But this time… this time it felt different.
This time, the emptiness was hungry.
This time, it might take more than blood to bring the red back.
It might take something darker.
He tightened his grip on the wheel.
Minutes later, he pulled up outside a crumbling warehouse — his phone vibrating with the contract details.
Simple job. In and out.
But he knew better.
He checked the ring.
Black.
Dead.
"Just a little more," he whispered. "Just enough to feel something again."
Then he stepped into the dark.
And let the monster off the leash.