Chapter 01
“…You were pretending to be Secretary Hong?”
The director let out a hollow laugh as he stared at the gun pointed at his head.
This man had single-handedly broken through security that no one had ever managed to breach before—and now, he had the barrel of his gun pressed against the director’s forehead.
And he was doing it while wearing the face of someone who had been by the director’s side for over 20 years—Secretary Hong.
“Because he’s the last person you’d ever suspect.”
The man looked down at the director sitting in the middle of the rooftop, where a large Ⓗ was painted, his gaze calm and unshaken.
“I even cleared you a back route, yet you chose the main stairs?”
“You suffer from claustrophobia. There’s no way you’d take a secret passage.”
The director’s eyes twitched slightly beyond the barrel of the gun.
His claustrophobia was a secret even Secretary Hong, his closest aide, didn’t know about.
But this man… had discovered even that.
Clap, clap.
The director’s twitching eyes curved into a smile as his hands came together slowly.
Clap—
“As expected, you’re my greatest masterpiece. If you had just lived as I told you… money, fame, everything would have been yours!”
Fury flashed in the director’s eyes as he smiled bitterly.
The children he raised were nothing more than disposable tools to him.
But this man…
The perfect hitman, who brought death without fail under countless faces. A killer with a 100% success rate.
The one who erased his own codename—an enforcer of death who no one could surpass.
Former codename: Inevitability (必然).
Faceless.
The greatest killer ever produced by “Myung,” the orphanage disguised as an assassin training facility.
He wasn’t some throwaway tool—he was the director’s one and only, irreplaceable masterpiece.
“…Masterpiece.”
The man’s eyes trembled faintly as he aimed the gun at the director.
– Acting is a tool.
Everything taught in this orphanage, this assassin training ground, was a means for missions and survival.
Acting, too, was nothing more than a tool.
Yet, the boy’s eyes had always sparkled during those acting lessons.
For him, acting wasn’t just training. It was a way to dream—if only for a moment—of living another life.
It was the driving force that helped him endure the grueling training that toyed with life and death.
“And you let yourself be seduced by a mere tool.”
“….”
“Was it then?”
Facing the director beyond the gun, he remembered that moment.
The small but decisive turning point when a tool became a dream.
It was during an infiltration mission for intel, at a local cultural center.
From the ceiling above the stage, where the lights were set, he watched an amateur troupe perform.
‘Isn’t living true to yourself more important?’
‘….’
‘Be honest. What do you really want to do?’
‘I… want to keep painting. To capture my world on canvas, and that world….’
Below the stage were only a handful of people—just enough to count on one hand.
The actors on stage performed awkwardly, yet…
He couldn’t take his eyes off that small stage that belonged solely to them.
‘So that… is real acting.’
The actors on stage and the audience below were all smiling brightly.
It was as if they were speaking to him:
Real acting isn’t just a ‘tool.’
It’s a story where another “me,” another “you,” and everyone together create a world.
From that day onward—
What was once a tool for missions, survival, and escape became his dream.
Eventually, at the risk of his life, he confessed his dream and desire to retire to the director.
‘An actor, huh? Big dreams are good. But erasing your killer codename won’t be easy.’
The director hadn’t objected when he said he wanted to quit being a hitman and chase his dream. Instead, he gave him a path.
Simple, yet brutal.
Because not a single person had ever succeeded in erasing their codename and walking away.
But he did.
He became the best hitman and erased his codename.
Though he was at an age where chasing a dream felt late…
He prepared to leave with joy in his heart.
But then—
“You even used the kids.”
His eyes grew bitter as he adjusted his aim at the director.
The darkness he’d stepped into refused to let him go.
“You chose to come back, Inevitability.”
“….”
“No matter how special they are, the kids are just tools. That was your choice.”
The director looked at him coolly beyond the gun barrel.
When he’d tried to leave the underworld, the director told him this:
His empty spot would be filled by countless children from the orphanage.
The director’s threat—to send those children to their deaths—made him falter.
As much as he longed for his dream, he couldn’t turn his back on children in the same situation as him.
So, in exchange for their freedom, he stepped back into the darkness at the brink of his dream.
“You should’ve drawn the line.”
But the director broke that one promise.
Instead of freeing the children, he sold them off to various places overseas while the man was away on missions.
By the time he learned the truth, it was already irreversible.
And so—he raised his gun at the director.
To end everything.
“…You’re my greatest masterpiece.”
The director smiled faintly as he pressed his forehead against the barrel aimed at him.
But his eyes shifted past the man—toward his subordinates, who now had their guns aimed.
If given even a split second, even this man couldn’t survive unscathed—
“No. I’m—”
Whether he realized it or not, the man calmly readjusted his grip.
A strange sense of unease flickered in the director’s mind.
By now, anyone would have shown an opening… but he hadn’t.
Instead, his dark-brown eyes and steady gun barrel grew even calmer.
“—not your masterpiece.”
BANG! BANG!
Gunfire tore through the rooftop, and the director’s body crumpled, eyes wide in disbelief.
Bang! Bang-bang! BANG!
Bullets rained down on him from behind.
Agonizing pain seared through his body as he collapsed onto the blood-soaked floor.
—Boss! Boss, you—!
—Inevitability, how could you…!
His vision dimmed as he stared blankly at the blue sky.
And in those final moments, what filled his mind were the countless masks he had worn—
The countless acts for survival, the bitter outcomes…
And the irony that only behind a mask could he reveal even a fragment of himself.
‘If there’s a next time… I want to act for real.’
Darkness swallowed him whole.
Surrounded by people, under a strangely vivid blue sky—
* * *
“End of the line! Time to get up….”
“—Hah!”
Startled by a gruff male voice, he instinctively shot upright.
At the wheel was a burly middle-aged man who had just taken his hands off the steering wheel.
“First day on set and you’re napping like a baby. You’ve got some nerve, huh? Come on, get out. I need a smoke.”
After the man stepped out, he shook his head slightly to shake off the drowsiness.
‘That dream again….’
Straightening his messy hair, he looked into the rearview mirror.
Gone was the scar that once slashed across his cheek—replaced by smooth, baby-like skin.
The cold, dark-brown eyes that never missed a target were now warm hazel.
And his jawline, skin without a single blemish…
Reflected in the mirror was Woo Yeon-hwi, age 27.
‘My previous life… my past self.’
Along with that reflection came vivid fragments of another life—
The memories of “Inevitability,” more real than reality itself.
The sudden flash of long-buried memories didn’t faze him.
It felt less like a shock and more like a long-awaited reunion.
“Yeon-hwi! Quit dawdling, or we’ll be late!”
The man’s voice snapped him back to reality, and he stepped out of the car.
The middle-aged man, exhaling smoke into the dusky sky, turned to glance at him.
“First shoot usually makes people nervous. But you look calm as a lake.”
“I am nervous. And… thanks for the early ride.”
“Appreciate that, but hey—I’m hurt, you know? When did you even start this acting thing? Didn’t tell me a word.”
“Not long ago.”
He brushed it off with a smile.
One day, he stumbled upon a YouTube video—film students making their own short film.
On the cramped rooftop of a worn-down school, under old lights, those students shone brilliantly.
Laughing, joking, building a new world together—
Something deep inside him had sparked then.
That was when the past—his life as Inevitability—came rushing back.
And along with it, a dream he thought was forever out of reach:
The dream to truly act.
“Well, just don’t get hurt trying to show off. Got it?”
“Yes, boss.”
“Outside, call me hyung, will you? Now go knock ’em dead.”
Patting his shoulder, the man left him with a word of encouragement before walking off.
“…Finally.”
Far off, lights gleamed, and people bustled around cameras.
For a moment, he stood and watched.
It felt like he had taken the longest road in the world to get here.
Maybe because he could still feel the weight of Inevitability’s years—years where he could only watch from afar.
‘This is the start.’
Woo Yeon-hwi took his first step onto the field.
His first true step toward his dream.
