REDEMPTION SYSTEM : I Choose to Sin Again

Darin had never considered himself a good man. He was a paid executioner from the Black District, specializing in fast, clean kills for mid-level cartels, not a sadistic butcher who reveled in screams, and not a random psychopath either. He worked neatly. One target, one blade, done.

That was why tonight was supposed to be easy.

A courier who leaked information. A witness, just a kid, in the wrong place at an even worse time. But everything collapsed the moment the first siren wailed.

“Police!” someone shouted from the end of the alley.

Darin ran.

Rain slicked the pavement, city lights reflecting in puddles like shattered glass. He vaulted a low fence, cut through a narrow passage, his breathing steady even as adrenaline spiked. He had been chased often enough to know how to buy himself a few more minutes.

What slowed him down was the kid.

A small boy suddenly stepped out from behind a metal door, thin body wrapped in clothes too big for him. The child stared at Darin with wide eyes. He did not scream. He did not run. He just stood there, as if he did not yet understand what he was seeing.

A fraction of a second of hesitation.

The first shot missed. The second struck Darin’s chest, slightly left of center, not the heart, but enough to drive the air from his lungs in a single, brutal exhale. His body jerked, yet his legs kept moving, instinct refusing to let him fall.

He ran into a dead end.

No exit.

Darin turned. Knife raised.

And that night, he broke his one personal rule.

He killed someone who was not his target.

When the police entered minutes later, Darin was still standing, his chest rising and falling unevenly. The knife slipped from his hand and clattered against the wet asphalt.

“Drop the weapon!”

He turned his head.

Too late.

The bullet punched into his chest, deeper than the first.

In that instant, something that should have ended instead connected.

Darin came to in a half-kneeling position, his left chest feeling as if it were pinned beneath something heavy. Not sharp pain, but a dull pressure that shortened his breath, made it incomplete. He inhaled in small measures, checking whether his lungs still worked.

He looked down.

The gunshot wound was still there.

His black jacket was torn at the chest, fabric gaping, soaked, sticky. Blood flowed slowly, not spurting, as if something were holding it back from fully leaving his body.

Strange.

He knew this sensation. He knew what dying felt like.

He should not have been feeling anything at all.

Yet the rain still fell, the metallic smell still burned his nose, and the alley was still there.

“That’s impossible…” he murmured.

Darin’s gaze shifted slowly, as if afraid of what he might find.

A few steps ahead, the small body was still lying where it had fallen.

The boy was not dead.

His chest rose and fell with effort. His breathing was rough, like a child trying to draw in air too deeply with lungs not ready for it. Blood streamed from the wound in his abdomen, mixing with rain, tracing the cracks in the asphalt.

Darin clenched his jaw.

Sirens.

Still distant, but more than one. The pattern was clear. He knew the distance and the timing. He had calculated the same thing before, from the opposite side.

Ten minutes.

Eleven if they moved carefully.

He did not have time.

“What is actually happening…” he whispered.

[This was not supposed to happen.]

The voice came from nowhere. It simply appeared in his head, calm, like a report prepared long in advance.

Darin’s body tensed on reflex.

“Get out,” he said quietly.

[If I could get out, you would not be breathing anymore as of several seconds ago.]

Darin took a short, bitter breath. “So what are you. The final hallucination of a dying man?”

[Consider me a manager.]

Blue text appeared in the air, uneven, as if its purpose was to be read, not displayed.

[Subject Assessment: Darin]

The text paused, then continued.

[Profession: Cartel Executioner]

[Specialization: Close-range elimination]

[Work pattern: Efficient. Minimal emotion. Contract-compliant.]

[Special note: Does not kill children. Never has. Until tonight.]

Darin’s fingers tightened.

His eyes flicked to the boy, then quickly away.

“If you already know all that,” he said softly, “why am I still alive?”

[Because there was a pause.]

The text changed.

[Hesitation recorded. This is rare.]

New text appeared.

[First Mission]

Darin narrowed his eyes.

[Save your last victim.]

[Countdown initiated.]

[10:00]

[Additional note: Police will arrive before time expires.]

[If you wish to persist, move now.]

“What if I refuse?”

[Your existence continues without this body, the police still arrive, and this time there will be no impact suppression.]

Darin exhaled slowly. “That doesn’t sound like a choice.”

[I am offering an opportunity. Choice comes afterward.]

The countdown ticked down.

[04:42]

Darin knelt fully, cold asphalt biting into his knees. His hand reached toward the boy, then froze midair.

He stiffened.

From this distance, the child’s face was clear. Too young. Eyes half open, glassy, searching for something he did not understand.

Darin turned his face away.

He pressed down on the wound without looking, his movements automatic, like holding a body still before the end.

The difference was, this time he was trying to stop something.

“Don’t die,” he said quietly.

He did not know who the words were meant for.

Another panel appeared.

[Limited Options]

The choices hovered in silence.

Darin read quickly. His jaw hardened when his eyes stopped on a single line.

“Life Transfer…”

[Links mission success to your continued survival.]

[High risk. Permanent.]

The sirens were closer now.

Darin did not ask another question.

He chose.

Cold surged through his chest, spreading fast, like liquid ice flooding his veins. His vision trembled. His breath caught, but he held on.

Beneath his hands, the boy’s bleeding slowed.

Stopped.

The countdown vanished.

[First Mission: Successful]

Darin collapsed backward into a sitting position.

He let the rain strike his face, his hair, let the cold seep in without resistance.

The alley fell briefly silent, holding only the sound of rain and two breaths that should not have been sharing the same space.

“Why…” the boy’s voice was hoarse, small, like a child confused and afraid. “Why did you help me…”

Darin closed his eyes.

Because if I look at you right now, I might not be able to stand again.

What came out instead was, “Because I didn’t want to die alone.”

The system did not respond immediately.

The silence stretched longer than necessary.

Finally, the voice returned.

[Initial contract accepted.]

A small panel appeared.

[Second Mission (Deferred)]

[Protect the target from the consequences of your former world.]

[Preparation time: 5 minutes.]

[And one more thing.]

[If you wish to persist… from now on, you must learn to protect, not to eliminate.]

The sirens were clear now. Red and blue lights flickered at the mouth of the alley.

Darin opened his eyes.

He stared at the brightening end of the passage.

Then he looked down, at the boy in his arms.

And for the first time since becoming an executioner, Darin realized he was no longer alone, and that was far more dangerous.