Part 1 – The Last Promise
Rain fell like it always did in the city—quiet, patient, uncaring.
It slid down the glass walls of the hospital in thin rivers, blurring the lights inside into pale ghosts. Jin Wick stood beneath the awning, his hands buried in the pockets of his black coat, his shoulders straight despite the weight crushing his chest. He had been standing there for nearly an hour, unmoving, as if motion itself would shatter something fragile inside him.
Behind the glass, life continued.
Doctors passed with tired eyes. Nurses whispered. Machines hummed with mechanical indifference.
And somewhere inside, the woman he loved was dying.
Jin had killed many men in his life.
He had ended lives with bullets, blades, and bare hands. He had done it efficiently, cleanly, professionally. He had done it because he was ordered to, because it was his trade, because he was very, very good at it.
But this—
this waiting—
this helplessness—
This was the hardest thing he had ever endured.
A nurse finally pushed through the glass doors. She hesitated when she saw him, as if she already knew what she was about to say.
"Mr. Wick," she said softly.
He didn't answer right away. His eyes remained on the rain.
"Yes?" he said at last.
"She's asking for you."
The words hit him like a bullet to the ribs—not fatal, but enough to steal his breath. Jin nodded once and followed her inside.
The room smelled like antiseptic and fading hope.
The lights were dimmed. Machines surrounded the bed like silent witnesses, their screens glowing green and blue. In the center of it all lay Mira, smaller than he remembered, her skin pale, her breathing shallow.
But when she saw him, she smiled.
And that smile broke him.
"Hey," she whispered.
Jin took her hand carefully, as if she might shatter. Her fingers were cold. Too cold.
"I'm here," he said.
"I know," she replied. "You always are."
She studied his face—the scar along his jaw, the faint bruise near his eye that never quite faded. She had seen him like this before, bruised and bloodied, returning home from a world she never asked details about.
But those days were supposed to be over.
"I'm sorry," she said suddenly.
"For what?" Jin asked, his voice tight.
"For leaving you alone."
He shook his head. "You're not leaving. Not yet."
Mira smiled again, sad this time. "You still lie terribly."
Silence stretched between them, filled only by the slow beeping of the monitor.
After a moment, she squeezed his hand with surprising strength. "Promise me something."
"Anything."
"Stay away from that life. No matter what happens. Promise me you won't go back."
The words dug into him.
He had buried that life years ago—burned the bridges, erased the names, locked the weapons away. He had done it for her. He had done it willingly.
But the past never stayed buried forever.
"I promise," he said anyway.
She closed her eyes, relief washing over her face.
"Good," she murmured. "I just wanted… a normal ending."
Her breathing slowed.
The machine's rhythm faltered.
"Hey," Jin said, leaning closer. "Mira?"
The line on the monitor flattened.
A single, endless tone filled the room.
Jin didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Didn't scream.
The doctor entered quietly and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."
Jin nodded once.
Inside, something ancient and violent shifted.
The funeral was small.
Mira had wanted it that way.
A gray sky stretched over the cemetery, clouds hanging low like the world itself was bowing its head. Jin stood alone beside the coffin, dressed in black from head to toe. No friends. No family.
No ghosts from his old life.
Just him.
As the coffin descended into the earth, Jin felt something close inside him—not rage, not grief, but emptiness. A hollow space where a future was supposed to be.
After everyone left, he stayed.
Rain soaked his coat. Mud stained his shoes. He didn't care.
"You saved me," he said quietly to the grave. "You gave me peace."
His jaw tightened.
"I'll protect it."
The house felt wrong without her.
Too quiet. Too empty.
Jin moved through it like a stranger, touching familiar objects—the couch where she slept during movie nights, the kitchen counter where she laughed while cooking, the bedroom where she used to trace the scars on his body without asking how he got them.
He sat at the dining table, staring at a white envelope.
Her handwriting was unmistakable.
Jin.
His hands trembled as he opened it.
If you're reading this, then I didn't make it.
I know you'll blame yourself. Please don't.
You gave me years I never thought I'd have.
I asked the lawyer to take care of a few things.
One last gift.
Something to keep you company.
You were never meant to be alone.
Tears slid down his face before he realized he was crying.
A knock echoed through the house.
Jin froze.
No one ever came here.
Another knock—heavier this time.
He wiped his face and opened the door.
A delivery man stood outside, holding a small crate and a folder. "Jin Wick?"
"Yes."
"Delivery. Signature, please."
Jin signed without reading.
The man hesitated. "Sorry for your loss."
Jin nodded and closed the door.
The crate sat on the floor.
Small.
Wooden.
Alive.
A soft whimper came from inside.
Jin's breath caught.
He opened it carefully.
Inside, wrapped in a blanket, was a small black puppy, its eyes wide and confused, its tail wagging weakly.
Attached to the collar was a note.
He needs you as much as you need him.
Love always,
Mira
The puppy licked his finger.
And for the first time since the hospital, Jin laughed—and cried—at the same time.
Three days later, the past knocked back.
Hard.
Jin stopped at a gas station late at night. The puppy—he named him Kuro—sat in the passenger seat, sleeping peacefully.
As Jin exited the store, a group of men stood near his car.
One of them—a young man with expensive clothes and careless eyes—whistled.
"Nice car," he said.
Jin said nothing.
The man stepped closer. "How much?"
"It's not for sale."
The smile vanished. "Everything is."
Jin met his gaze.
Something old flickered behind his eyes.
The young man hesitated—just for a second.
Then pride took over.
"I said—"
"No," Jin said quietly. "You should walk away."
The man laughed.
He didn't walk away.
That mistake would change everything.
Continue
Part 2 – The Line That Should Not Be Crossed
The gas station lights buzzed overhead, casting everything in a sickly white glow.
Jin Wick stood between his car and the men who had decided—without knowing it—to step onto the last thin bridge between life and death. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but the pavement still reflected neon signs and headlights like broken glass.
The young man circled the car slowly, his shoes crunching softly against gravel.
"You hear me?" the man said. "I asked you something."
Jin watched him the way a veteran hunter watched a reckless animal—without hatred, without fear. Just awareness.
"I heard you," Jin replied.
Behind the man stood three others. All armed, though only one made the mistake of showing it: a pistol tucked carelessly into his waistband. The others had the stiff posture of men who relied on intimidation more than experience.
The young man leaned closer to the driver's side window, peering inside.
"Damn," he muttered. "Interior's clean too."
Jin's voice dropped. "Step away from the car."
The young man straightened, annoyed now. "You think you can tell me what to do?"
"Yes."
That was when the puppy barked.
A small, sharp sound—defiant and brave in a way only something innocent could be.
The young man noticed Kuro for the first time.
"Aww," he said, grinning. "Look at that. You got yourself a little guard dog."
Jin felt something twist in his chest.
The man reached for the door handle.
Time slowed.
Jin's hand shot out, gripping the man's wrist mid-motion. The grip was precise, surgical. Not angry. Controlled.
The young man gasped in surprise. "Hey—!"
"Last warning," Jin said quietly.
The others stepped forward.
"You let go of him," one of them said, his hand hovering near his weapon.
Jin turned his head slightly, eyes flicking to each man in turn. He measured distances. Angles. Threats.
He released the wrist and stepped back.
"Go," Jin said. "Now."
For a moment, it looked like they might.
Then the young man laughed.
"You old or something?" he sneered. "You don't scare me."
He shoved Jin.
It wasn't hard.
But it was enough.
Jin stumbled back a step, hands raised—not in surrender, but restraint.
"Get in the car," one of the men muttered to the young man. "This guy's weird."
The young man spat on the ground near Jin's shoes.
"This isn't over," he said. "I'll see you again."
They drove off in a black SUV, tires screaming as it disappeared into the night.
Jin stood there for a long moment, heart steady, breathing calm.
Kuro whined softly.
Jin got into the car and drove home.
Sleep did not come easily.
Jin lay in bed, staring at the ceiling while Kuro slept curled against his side. The house creaked and settled around them, every sound magnified by the silence.
Memories crept in uninvited.
A hallway soaked in blood.
A man begging in three languages.
A pistol slide locking back, empty.
Jin closed his eyes.
"I'm done," he whispered.
The house remained silent.
The noise woke him.
A crash.
Glass shattering.
Metal screaming.
Jin was on his feet instantly.
Kuro barked, startled.
Jin grabbed the nearest thing—an old flashlight—and moved down the hallway. The front door hung open, splintered wood scattered across the floor.
Headlights flooded the living room.
Engines idled outside.
Men laughed.
Jin's chest tightened.
"No," he whispered.
He ran.
By the time he reached the driveway, it was already over.
His car was gone.
Tire marks scorched the concrete.
Silence returned, thick and suffocating.
Kuro whimpered behind him.
Jin dropped to one knee, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles bled.
They took the car.
They came into his home.
They ignored the warning.
The body was found in the morning.
Kuro lay in a pool of blood on the living room floor, his small body unnaturally still. The note from Mira lay torn nearby, stained red.
Jin didn't scream.
Didn't cry.
He knelt beside the puppy and gently closed its eyes.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
Something inside him shattered.
And something else—something far older—stood up.
The police were useless.
Sympathetic words. Empty promises.
"Probably a gang," the officer said. "Car theft. Happens all the time."
"They killed my dog," Jin said.
The officer shifted uncomfortably. "We'll do what we can."
Jin nodded.
He knew better.
That night, Jin returned to the basement.
The floorboard creaked when he pried it open.
The case beneath it was long, black, and sealed.
He stared at it for a long time.
"I promised," he said aloud.
The promise echoed back, hollow.
He opened the case.
Inside lay tools of a former life—cleaned, oiled, perfectly preserved.
Weapons.
Gold coins stamped with unfamiliar symbols.
A phone with no number saved.
Jin picked up the phone.
It vibrated immediately.
A single message appeared:
"We heard you were back."
Jin exhaled slowly.
"I'm not back," he said.
He loaded the pistol anyway.
Somewhere across the city, the young man laughed as his men celebrated.
"He didn't even fight back," he said, sipping expensive liquor. "Pathetic."
An older man nearby stiffened.
"What was his name?" the older man asked.
"Jin Wick," the young man replied casually.
The glass slipped from the older man's hand and shattered.
"You killed his dog?"
The room went silent.
The young man frowned. "So?"
The older man's face drained of color.
"Oh God," he whispered. "You shouldn't have done that."
END OF CHAPTER 1 – PART 2
Part 3 – When the Devil Stands Up
The city never slept.
It only pretended to.
At three in the morning, when honest people dreamed and criminals believed themselves safest, a quiet panic began to ripple through places most citizens would never see—basements beneath luxury hotels, soundproof rooms behind nightclubs, private floors of office buildings that didn't officially exist.
It began with a name.
Jin Wick.
Spoken softly.
Spoken carefully.
Spoken like a prayer—or a curse.
The phone rang in Kaito Morozov's study.
He was a man who owned half the city without his name ever appearing on paper. Gray-haired, broad-shouldered, calm in the way only men who had survived wars could be. He stared at the phone for a full three seconds before answering.
"Speak."
The voice on the other end trembled. "Sir… it's him."
Kaito closed his eyes.
"Be precise," he said.
"Jin Wick is active."
Silence filled the room.
After a moment, Kaito poured himself a drink. His hand was steady, but his expression was not.
"How many know?" he asked.
"Everyone who matters."
Kaito exhaled slowly.
"So it begins again."
Jin stood alone in his basement, the single bulb overhead casting harsh shadows against concrete walls. He moved with ritual precision, assembling his gear piece by piece.
Black suit.
Clean shirt.
Dark tie.
No armor.
He had never needed it before.
The pistol felt familiar in his hands—not comforting, but honest. Tools never lied. People did.
He checked the magazine. Seated it with a sharp tap. Chambered a round.
Click.
Jin closed his eyes.
He didn't think about Mira.
He didn't think about Kuro.
If he did, the rage would become uncontrolled. Sloppy.
This wasn't about anger.
This was about balance.
They had taken something that was never meant to be touched.
Now the scales had to be corrected.
The first house sat at the edge of the city, hidden behind tall iron gates and false security. It belonged to one of the men from the gas station—the loud one, the one who laughed too easily.
Jin approached on foot.
Cameras tracked the perimeter.
He knew where they were.
He stepped into every blind spot.
The guard at the gate barely had time to look up.
Jin's hand struck the man's throat, collapsing his windpipe with a soft, wet sound. The body fell without drama.
Jin caught it before it hit the ground.
He dragged it aside.
The door was unlocked.
Inside, music played—cheap bass rattling the walls. Men laughed in the living room, bottles scattered across the table.
Jin stepped inside.
The first man turned.
The shot was clean.
Two rounds to the chest. One to the head.
The second man reached for his gun.
Jin shot through his hand.
He screamed.
Jin silenced him.
The third man tried to run.
He didn't make it three steps.
When it was over, Jin stood alone among bodies, smoke curling from the barrel of his pistol.
He checked his watch.
Four minutes.
Too slow.
By sunrise, the city was fully awake.
And terrified.
Bodies were found across three neighborhoods. All connected. All precise. All bearing the same signature—close-range shots, controlled force, no collateral damage.
No witnesses.
Only certainty.
Jin Wick was moving.
The young man—the one who had laughed at the gas station—paced his penthouse, phone pressed to his ear.
"This isn't funny anymore," he snapped. "Handle it!"
His men were already gone.
Not answering.
Not breathing.
The older man from the night before sat heavily in a chair, hands clasped together.
"You don't understand," he said quietly. "You didn't just steal a car."
"Shut up," the young man shouted. "He's just a man!"
The older man looked at him with something close to pity.
"No," he said. "He's what happens when consequences finally arrive."
The lights went out.
The room plunged into darkness.
The young man froze.
"What did you do?" he whispered.
A gunshot answered.
The older man slumped forward, dead before he hit the floor.
A shadow moved.
Jin stepped into the dim emergency lighting, calm, composed, unstoppable.
The young man fell to his knees.
"Please," he begged. "I didn't know—"
Jin tilted his head.
"That," he said softly, "is why you're dying."
The shot echoed across the city.
Jin walked out as sirens approached in the distance.
He disappeared into the streets before they arrived.
The city exhaled—shaken, changed, reminded.
Some men were not meant to be tested.
Some promises were not meant to be broken.
And some legends only slept.
END OF CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 1: RETURN OF THE SHADOW
Part 1 – The Calm Before the Storm
Page 1 – Opening Scene
Panel 1: Wide shot of the city skyline at night, rain falling. Neon signs flicker across wet streets.
Caption: A city that never sleeps… tonight, it trembles in silence.
Panel 2: Close-up of Jin Wick's boots stepping through puddles. Water splashes with each step.
Sound FX: Splash… splash…
Panel 3: Jin Wick appears from the shadows, trench coat soaked, Kuro at his side. His eyes scan the street.
Caption: Jin Wick… a man who left the world behind. But the world never left him.
Panel 4: Interior of his apartment. Minimalist. Gun cleaning kit on a table. The gold coin glints under dim light.
Caption: Order. Precision. Routine.
Panel 5: Jin kneels to clean his handgun, every motion deliberate, the calm before chaos.
Sound FX: Click… clack…
Page 2 – Foreshadowing
Panel 1: Kuro nudges Jin's hand; he glances down, softening briefly.
Caption: Even shadows need companionship.
Panel 2: Phone vibrates on the table. Screen: UNKNOWN.
Text Message: "You've made things complicated."
Panel 3: Jin's finger hovers over the reply.
Text Message (Jin): "They were complicated when they came into my home."
Panel 4: Close-up on Jin's eyes, dark and focused.
Caption: No fear. No hesitation. Only purpose.
Panel 5: Wide shot – rain falls against the window. The city waits.
Caption: The storm is coming.
Part 2 – Attack on the Apartment
Page 3 – Arrival of Threats
Panel 1: Exterior – a black van screeches to a halt outside the apartment.
Sound FX: Screeeech!
Panel 2: Six men jump out, guns drawn. Rain sprays as they move with lethal intent.
Panel 3: Interior – Jin stands in shadows, pistols ready, calm and composed.
Caption: They thought they could surprise him…
Panel 4: Rapid montage (multi-panel spread):
4a: A man fires a gun; bullet ricochets.
4b: Jin spins, returning fire; one guard falls.
4c: Two men rush him; he sidesteps, uses their momentum to throw them.
4d: Quick neck snap, another down.
Panel 5: Wide shot of the apartment. Bodies sprawled. Broken window. Rain pouring in.
Caption: They came to end him… they confirmed the truth instead.
Page 4 – Aftermath
Panel 1: Jin cleans his pistols, calm, precise.
Panel 2: Kuro nudges him, alert and watchful.
Caption: Even in darkness, bonds remain.
Panel 3: Jin steps out into the wet streets. Neon reflections glimmer on the asphalt.
Panel 4: Low-angle shot of Jin walking away, Kuro behind him. Silhouette sharp against neon.
Caption: He never looks back.
Part 3 – Foreshadowing the Return
Page 5 – Foreshadowing / Rising Tension
Panel 1: Jin's phone buzzes again. Screen lights up:
Text Message: "There are people who want to talk."
Panel 2: Jin turns it off, pocketing the phone. Calm, unshaken.
Caption: The past isn't done with him… neither is he with it.
Panel 3: Wide shot of city skyline from above. Lightning flashes, illuminating Jin standing on a rooftop, rain pelting his coat.
Caption: A storm is coming. Its name… Jin Wick.
Panel 4: Close-up – Kuro looking up at Jin, alert, ready.
Panel 5: Close-up – Jin's eyes, reflecting neon light, intense and unyielding.
Caption: No mercy. No compromise. No turning back.
Panel 6 – Full-page splash: Jin Wick on the rooftop, city sprawled below, rain slicing through the night, a shadow against a vast urban battlefield.
Caption: The legend returns… and the city will never forget.