G.O.D Complex

The beeping sound of the alarm echoed in the room—pointless now, for the person who set it would never wake again.

Life moved on, mechanically. The apartment's automated system triggered, drawing open the blinds at daybreak. With a soft hiss, the curtains rose, letting in the warm glow of morning. Orange sunlight poured into the room, brushing over the blood-soaked bedsheets. A man lay still on the bed, eyes open in horror, mouth twisted in a permanent scream. Rigor mortis had set in. Judging by the state of his body, he had died sometime the previous day.

And yet… the bed shifted.

A muffled groan escaped from beneath the blanket.

She stirred.

Pushing the blanket aside, the woman sat up, her eyes blank and unfocused, lost in thought. This was always her routine—waking late after a "hot night" with a client. But this morning was different. She had two contracts to fulfill, and failing either would displease her handler.

With visible effort, she pushed away the lethargy and stood up. The blanket slid off her figure, revealing a young, breathtakingly beautiful woman. Her form was flawless—graceful curves, a perfect silhouette, and radiant skin that gleamed in the morning light. Her every movement was unintentional seduction. What marked her most was the dried blood on her waist—unnoticed, unapologetic.

She walked, unbothered, to the bathroom, leaving the corpse behind without a second glance.

The cold water poured over her skin, washing away the traces of blood and sweat. She moved deliberately, scrubbing herself clean. An hour passed before the doorbell rang. She stepped out of the shower, wrapped herself in a bathrobe, and answered the door.

"G-Good morning, ma'am. This is the breakfast you ordered," the young hotel waiter stammered, doing his best not to stare at her wet hair or the seductive tilt of her lips.

She didn't notice the effect she had on him. She simply nodded, took the tray, and closed the door with a gentle kick, ignoring his attempt to say something more.

Soft music played in the background as she settled into the couch, eating calmly. When she finished, she rose, discarded the robe, and began preparing for her next mission.

What she equipped could only be described as elite military-grade gear—sleek, silent, and deadly. As she finished strapping the last holster, she stepped onto the balcony and peered over the edge. The city below stretched far and wide, a sea of lights and life. She didn't blink.

Hooking a cable gun to the railing, she fired at a nearby wall. The spear-like tip embedded itself firmly. Without hesitation, she leapt.

Twenty floors below, a businessman and his family were enjoying breakfast.

The children laughed, tapping away at their tablets. The parents whispered playfully.

"You're the best gift I could ask for," the man said, kissing his wife's forehead.

Bang!

Time seemed to freeze.

The window shattered. The wife collapsed, lifeless.

The man barely had time to scream before bullets tore through his limbs. He dropped to the floor in agony, blood painting the tiles red.

The assassin walked through the broken window, cold and unhurried. Her gaze swept the room. The children clutched each other, sobbing in terror.

Then—he grabbed her ankle.

"Please… spare them… they're just kids…" the father begged.

Bang!

A shot to the wrist silenced him. She continued forward and crouched in front of the children.

"What's your name?" she asked gently, her voice sweet like a lullaby.

"...Mary. My name is Mary… and this is my brother, Josh," the older child whispered.

"That's a beautiful name. Your parents chose well," the assassin replied with a soft smile. Then, from a hidden sheath, she produced a knife and handed it to Mary.

"I have a game for you," she said. "If you win, I might let one of you live. If you lose… everyone dies."

The children trembled. Despair overtook them. The girl added coldly, "You can only save one. Decide between yourself and your brother."

Mary stared at the knife, eyes wide with fear. As the assassin turned her back and walked toward the father, rage swelled in the girl's chest. Trembling, she rushed forward, screaming—

"DIE!"

But her move had been anticipated.

An hour later, a housekeeper entered the room for cleaning.

Two hours later, someone else exited—dressed in a maid's uniform, walking calmly into the crowd.

Her phone buzzed. She answered.

"I know I'm late. But it's done. I have the dad's eyeballs and fingers. Took care of the family too—bonus," she said casually, her face emotionless.

Back in the apartment, the scene was chilling:

A man, eyes gouged out, fingers missing, weeping silently on the sofa.

His wife's cold body slumped beside him.

Two lifeless children sat propped at the table, throats cleanly slit, color pencils in their hands, blood mixing with their drawings.

A woman's naked corpse lay in the bathroom, her neck broken.

A happy family.

"Who's my next target?" she asked, eyes fixed ahead.

Her phone vibrated again.

A picture appeared.

A boy.

White hair.

Blue eyes.

Her face fell.

"I finally found you… Mr. Grey. The Blue-Eyed Devil."

Then she vanished into the crowd.

---

But things didn't go as planned…

She gasped, jolting awake in a white room.

Sweating. Gasping for air. Vomiting onto the floor.

She'd fallen off the bed, smacking her head.

Disoriented, she stumbled toward the door, eyes wide. She peered through the square window and saw a long corridor on both ends—sterile and white. Across from her, another room.

Someone inside glanced at her.

She dropped out of sight, heart pounding.

Leaning on the door, she ran a hand through her hair, shaking. The only thing she could remember...

Was herself.

"...How did I end up here?"

—To Be Continued