Chapter 1 : The Chase

Bang!

The gunshot echoed against the brick building.

Lee Jun-hyuk panted heavily as he dashed into the alley.

His heart felt like it would burst.

Raindrops splashed against his face, and he almost tripped over the slippery stone pavement.

“Damn it…”

A curse slipped out naturally.

Footsteps came from behind.

At least three or four.

The sound of wet leather soles striking the stone floor grew louder.

“Why the hell are they after me…?”

He saw the end of the alley.

It was a dead end.

“Shit.”

He quickly turned his body.

There was a narrower alley to the side.

Trash cans lined up one after another, and the stench stabbed his nose.

It didn’t matter.

He had to survive.

He squeezed his body between the trash bins.

His black coat snagged on one of the cans.

It made a tearing sound.

“Stop right there!”

A croaky voice came from behind.

It was English, tinged with an Italian accent.

Bang! Bang!

More gunshots.

Chunks of cement flew off the wall.

Shards hit his arm.

It stung sharply.

He gritted his teeth and ran.

When he emerged from the alley, he reached a main street.

The wet glow of streetlamp light blurred in the rain.

Passersby stared at him with startled faces.

“Taxi!”

He raised his hand.

The yellow taxi didn’t slow down and passed by.

“Please, taxi!”

The second taxi also just drove past.

His appearance was probably too strange.

Soaked in rain, his coat torn, and blood smeared across his face.

“Get him!”

Men burst out of the alley.

Black fedoras and black coats.

Typical mafia attire.

The man at the front held a revolver.

Lee Jun-hyuk ran again.

Ahead, he saw a streetcar.

It was stopping at the train station.

“Please…”

He ran with all his strength.

The streetcar started moving again.

“Wait!”

He shouted.

The conductor turned around.

Then, he stretched out his hand.

“Hurry!”

Lee Jun-hyuk barely grabbed the conductor’s hand and boarded the streetcar.

His knees trembled.

His legs gave out.

“Ticket?”

The conductor asked.

“Ah, yes.”

With trembling hands, he rummaged through his pocket.

He found a few wet coins.

Probably five cents.

He looked out the window.

The men in black coats stood at the street corner, glaring at the streetcar.

One of them took off his hat to wipe the rain.

It was the Bald Man.

“That bastard is persistent.”

The streetcar accelerated.

Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief.

He collapsed into the seat.

His whole body was soaked like a drowned rat.

It was cold rain at the end of November.

His teeth chattered.

“This is driving me crazy, really.”

Two weeks.

Two weeks had passed since this madness began.

No, to be exact, two weeks and three days.

It all started when he first opened his eyes on November 8, 1918.

In the hospital bed.

The Head Nurse was looking down at Lee Jun-hyuk with a startled expression.

“Oh, you’ve come to your senses! Doctor!”

Back then, he thought it was just a simple accident.

They said he hit his head.

His memory might be a little fuzzy.

…Memory fuzzy?

“I have someone else’s memories completely.”

***

The streetcar jolted.

Lee Jun-hyuk brushed his wet hair back.

Water droplets fell one by one.

The woman sitting in front of him frowned, then quietly moved to another seat.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.”

He apologized silently.

He didn’t have the energy to say it aloud.

The first day at the hospital came to mind.

“Are you Lee Jun-hyuk? Is that right?”

When the doctor asked, he nodded.

The name was the same.

But the age—25 years old?

He himself was 38.

“Your friends were very worried. Especially a friend named Michael…”

Michael? Who was that?

“Ah, yes.”

Lee Jun-hyuk replied vaguely.

And then two days later.

The hospital room door was roughly flung open.

Three men wearing black fedoras entered.

The Head Nurse protested, but they paid no heed.

“Finally awake, you little rat.”

The Bald Man spoke.

He was the one who had been chasing him just now.

“Where did you hide Uncle Giovanni’s money?”

“What?”

‘Don’t play dumb. Where’s the safe key?’

He had no idea what they were talking about.

Giovanni? Safe? Key?

“I really don’t know.”

“That bastard.”

The Bald Man grabbed his words.

He tightened his grip on the hospital gown around Lee Jun-hyuk’s neck.

He was suffocating.

“Three months ago, you moved it yourself. Don’t you remember? Fifty thousand dollars, fifty thousand dollars.”

Fifty thousand dollars.

By 1918 standards, that was over a million dollars in today’s money.

“I really don’t know. My memory… because of the accident…”

“Shut up.”

The Bald Man raised his fist.

Just then, the hospital door opened again.

“What are you doing here?!”

The doctor and hospital guards rushed in.

The Bald Man slowly lowered his fist.

Then, he whispered low into Lee Jun-hyuk’s ear.

“I’ll give you time until your discharge. Think carefully. Otherwise…”

He made a throat-slitting gesture.

And so two weeks passed.

They came to the hospital every day.

Sometimes the Bald Man alone, sometimes with his henchmen.

The intimidation became more blatant.

And today.

The day of discharge.

As soon as he stepped out of the hospital main gate, they were waiting.

So he ran.

He ran with all his strength and made it here.

The streetcar jolted again.

“Number 14!”

The conductor shouted.

It was the street where his boarding house was.

“Can I go back…?”

They probably knew the address of the boarding house.

But right now, he just wanted to change clothes.

He was freezing.

Maybe that’s why his judgment was a little off.

“Must’ve already turned around. Darkness lies beneath the lamp.”

Lee Jun-hyuk got off the streetcar.

The rain was easing.

Two blocks to the boarding house.

He walked, looking around each building corner carefully.

Fortunately, no suspicious people were in sight.

“What the hell did the original owner of this body do?”

Lee Jun-hyuk.

Same name, different life.

Who was the original owner of this body?

A Columbia University student?

That alone didn’t explain it.

A student who could be entrusted with the mafia’s fifty thousand dollars?

He saw the boarding house entrance.

He looked around once more, then stepped inside.

“Oh my, this student!”

The landlady in the hallway looked at him with a surprised expression.

“You shouldn’t be out in the rain. The Spain Flu is so dangerous these days!”

“Ah, yes… I’m sorry.”

“Hurry upstairs and change your clothes!”

He nodded and climbed the creaking wooden stairs.

Breath caught as he climbed to the fifth floor.

After lying in the hospital bed for two weeks, his body was completely broken.

His legs felt like they would give out.

He opened his room door and stepped inside.

As expected, it was a mess.

The closet doors were all open, the mattress on the bed was askew.

Books on the desk had spilled onto the floor.

“He’s already left.”

A sigh escaped.

Still, the wardrobe was untouched.

He took off his wet clothes and changed into dry ones.

A worn sweater and pants.

Not warm, but at least better than being soaked.

“What should I do now?”

He sat on the edge of the bed and thought.

He couldn’t afford to lose.

No money, no place to go.

Above all, they didn’t seem like they would give up.

Fifty thousand dollars.

An amount that no one could let go of even by 1918 standards.

“Might as well go to the police…”

No.

What could the New York Police do against the Italian mafia in 1918?

More likely, they had their own men inside the police force.

At that moment.

Footsteps.

Several people in the hallway.

Lee Jun-hyuk held his breath.

The footsteps grew closer.

And stopped in front of his door.

Knock, knock.

“Lee Jun-hyuk, I know you’re in there.”

It was the Bald Man’s voice.

“Open the door. Let’s end this peacefully.”

He looked at the window.

Fifth floor.

If he jumped, he would die.

Emergency stairs?

None.

No cheap boarding house had such things.

Bang!

The door was kicked.

The loose door creaked.

“I have to do something.”

He quickly looked around.

Nothing that could be used as a weapon.

The ink bottle on the desk?

What could he do with that?

Bang! Bang!

The door rattled louder.

Then his gaze fell on one of the books on the floor.

A diary.

A small leather-bound diary.

“No way?”

He hurriedly grabbed the diary.

Bang!

The door broke open.

The Bald Man and two henchmen entered.

The Bald Man held a revolver.

“You ran well.”

The Bald Man sneered.

“But this is as far as you go.”

“Wait, this.”

Lee Jun-hyuk held up the diary.

“Aren’t you looking for this?”

The Bald Man’s eyes narrowed.

“What?”

“The safe key. It might be in here…”

No proof.

Just a stall tactic.

But the Bald Man’s expression subtly changed.

“Give it here.”

“Lower your gun first.”

“That bastard…”

“Or I’ll throw it out the window.”

A lie.

He’d be shot before even reaching the window.

But the Bald Man hesitated.

Fifty thousand dollars was on the line.

What if the key really was there…?

“Fine. But if you mess around, you’re dead.”

The Bald Man lowered his gun slightly.

Lee Jun-hyuk slowly opened the diary.

Turning pages with trembling hands.

Then.

“Huh?”

There really was something.

Around the middle of the diary.

Between the pages, a flat object was slipped in.

A small key-shaped thing.

“Really…?”

Even he was surprised.

“That’s it.”

The Bald Man stepped forward.

“Give it here quickly!”

Lee Jun-hyuk took out the key.

But with the key, a folded paper note slipped out.

“Give me that, too.”

The Bald Man reached out his hand.

He had no choice.

Lee Jun-hyuk handed over the key and the paper note.

The Bald Man unfolded the note.

He seemed to be reading something.

Then he smiled with satisfaction.

“Finally found it.”

The Bald Man looked back at his henchmen.

“It’s over. Let’s go.”

“Boss, what about this guy?”

One henchman asked.

The Bald Man looked at Lee Jun-hyuk.

Cold eyes.

“Originally, he should be dead…”

Lee Jun-hyuk’s heart thumped.

“But today, I’m in a good mood, so I’ll let you live. But stay quiet. If you go to the police or do anything useless, that’s when you’ll really die. Got it?”

Lee Jun-hyuk nodded.

He had no words.

“Good. Let’s go.”

They left.

Their footsteps faded beyond the broken door.

Lee Jun-hyuk sank down.

His legs gave out.

His whole body trembled.

Relief at being alive mixed with rising anger.

“Damn bastards…”

But he couldn’t freeze.

He had no strength.

No money, no backing, no connections.

He was just a 25-year-old Asian student in Paris.

He sat there for a while before standing up.

The broken door.

What was he supposed to do with this?

The landlady would probably make a fuss if she found out.

She’d yell at him to pay for repairs…?

‘First, let me look at the diary.’

He picked up the diary from the floor again.

On the cover, it was written in big letters.

1918.

This year’s diary.

He opened the first page.

It was the original owner’s handwriting.

Or rather, the handwriting of the original owner of this body.

Neat Korean script.

Mixed here and there with English.

He turned the page.

At first, it was ordinary daily entries.

Classes, assignments, appointments with friends.

Typical diary of an overseas student.

Then, around March, the tone changed.

Michael.

The name the doctor had mentioned at the hospital.

Safe?

It became increasingly ominous.

And then August.

After that, only normal entries.

No direct mention of where the safe was hidden.

“So. Is it really in that paper note?”

Lee Jun-hyuk sighed.

He regretted the fifty thousand dollars, but it ended cleanly.

The mafia got what they wanted, and he lived.

Now he could start fresh without getting involved anymore.

‘But who is Michael…?’

He thought he was a friend, but he was actually mafia.

How did the original owner of this body get tangled up with such a person?

Knock, knock.

His heart thudded as he sat down.

‘Again…?’

“Are you okay, student?”

It was the landlady’s voice.

“Yes… I’m fine.”

“What’s that noise? Why is the door like this?”

“Ah, that…”

How was he supposed to explain?

“I’m sorry. I’ll get it fixed.”

“You have to be really careful. This neighborhood has gotten dangerous.”

The lady’s footsteps receded.

Lee Jun-hyuk tried to close the broken door somehow.

The hinge was broken, so it wouldn’t close properly.

“You need money to fix it anyway…”

He sat on the bed.

Outside the window, the dome sat low.

The sound of rain.

But the sky was still overcast.

Two hundred thirteen dollars.

No, after spending five cents on the streetcar, two hundred twelve dollars and ninety-five cents.

That was his entire fortune.

“What should I do?”

He was at a loss.

Even if he knew the future, without money, he could do nothing.

Stocks?

At least a few thousand dollars were needed to matter.

Business?

It was the same.

“I have to earn some money first.”

Marketing?

If this were the future’s digital world, it would be the easiest time to make money since ancient times.

Raising capital wouldn’t even be hard.

But right now, even that was difficult.

Almost nothing could be done without capital.

Whatever he did, he needed money.

But how?

Then, on the desk.

A messy stack of newspapers caught his eye.

They were a few days old.

Scattered on the floor as the mafia searched.

He picked one up.

Job ads.

Daily wages were two to three dollars.

‘That’s not nearly enough…’

Then, another ad caught his eye.

Trading business.

And Spanish.

“Spanish…”

Lee Jun-hyuk opened the diary again.

There was a record from April.

Cuba.

Sugar.

And.

1919.

The sugar boom about to begin.

Something seemed to be connecting steadily.

But he needed five hundred dollars.

More than twice what he currently had.

“I should sleep first.”

He was exhausted.

Today had felt like a month.

Lee Jun-hyuk lay down on the bed.

Light from the hallway filtered through the broken door.

He didn’t want to, but he couldn’t help it.

“The rest is up to me…”

He slowly closed his eyes.

The rain began again.