Leong walked away from the quiet intersection where he had last seen Fatma. Her voice still lingered in his ears, soft yet determined, as if it had the strange ability to pierce through the steel walls he built around his heart.
He shook his head.
Kindness was dangerous.
Warmth was even more dangerous.
He could not afford either—not now, not when the people who murdered him were still laughing under the sun with blood on their hands.
He kept walking until the neighborhood changed from old-town shops to a busier, more polished part of the city. Cars moved in steady streams, and office workers rushed across crosswalks with their eyes glued to their screens. It was a world he once dominated yet ultimately lost.
Not this time.
He arrived at a tall commercial building with reflective glass walls. The security guard at the entrance barely looked up, uninterested in someone with Leong's simple clothing. Good. He didn't want attention.
Leong headed straight to the elevator, pressed the button, and stepped inside when the doors slid open.
He was going to meet someone who didn't know he had died yet—someone who had unknowingly contributed to his past downfall.
And he needed to see whether that person remained a threat… or could be forced into becoming an asset.
The elevator chimed on the eleventh floor.
Leong walked toward a modern office with bold letters across the frosted glass:
Han Finance Consultancy
The receptionist, a woman in her late twenties, lifted her head and blinked in surprise.
"Hello, sir. Do you have an appointment?"
"No," Leong replied calmly. "But Mr. Han will want to see me."
"Sir, I'm afraid he's—"
Before she finished, a door opened and a tall man in a navy suit stepped out. His hair neatly styled, his posture sharp. His eyes swept the room, landed on Leong—then widened with genuine shock.
"Leong?" the man breathed, nearly dropping his tablet. "How— Where have you been?! Everyone thought something happened to you!"
Leong smiled faintly. "Hello, Kelvin."
Kelvin Han — once his financial advisor.
A man who had helped Leong manage several accounts and assets.
A man who, in Leong's past life, unknowingly handed over crucial financial loopholes directly to Sofia's group—allowing them to siphon millions without Leong noticing.
Not malicious.
Just careless.
But carelessness had cost Leong his life.
Kelvin hurried to him, gripping his shoulder. "Leong, you have no idea how relieved I am. After you disappeared, the news—people said you ran away or… or something bad happened."
"Something bad did happen," Leong said softly. "But I survived."
Kelvin blinked, confused, but Leong didn't elaborate.
"Let's talk privately," Kelvin said, leading him into his office.
Once the door closed, Kelvin sighed and collapsed into his chair.
"Seriously, Leong. Where were you for months? I tried to contact you. Everything was falling apart around you. Your girlfriend, Sofia… she came to see me several times. She looked devastated."
Leong's eyes darkened.
Devastated?
No—Sofia had been calculating.
Every tear she cried in public was a performance.
Every expression of grief was a lie she used to hide the taste of poison still on her hands.
Kelvin continued, unaware of the storm building in Leong's eyes.
"Your step-brother Ren also contacted me. He said you told him to take over some of the accounts temporarily. I thought it was odd, but he insisted you approved it. And then—"
Leong raised a hand, stopping him.
"I didn't approve anything."
Kelvin froze.
Leong leaned forward, voice calm yet heavy. "Kelvin, listen carefully. In my absence, who had access to my financial files?"
Kelvin swallowed. "Well… Ren and Sofia. They both had temporary access. Ren claimed he was helping you manage your workload. Sofia said she was worried about you and needed to check your expenses. And Taira—she visited once as well, saying she needed to verify signatures."
A muscle in Leong's jaw tightened.
Taira.
The cousin who forged documents.
The one who pushed him to sign "inheritance agreements."
The one who watched him fall writhing to the floor after the poison took effect.
Kelvin looked uneasy. "Leong… is something wrong?"
The younger man smiled slightly—cold, but controlled.
"Nothing I can't fix."
Kelvin hesitated. "Look, if I mishandled anything—"
"You didn't betray me," Leong said. "But you were used. And that makes you vulnerable."
Kelvin paled. "Used? By whom?"
Leong didn't answer, not directly. "Kelvin, I need access to everything—every file, every account statement, every transaction log during the period I was gone."
"Leong, that's— That's months of data!"
"Yes," Leong replied steadily. "And I need it tonight."
Kelvin stared at him, stunned by the authority in Leong's tone.
In his past life, Leong had been gentle. Too gentle. Too forgiving.
But now—there was steel in his voice, and Kelvin felt it.
A minute passed before Kelvin exhaled, defeated. "Fine… I'll get everything. But Leong, if something illegal was done—"
"I'll handle it," Leong said. "Just trust me."
Kelvin nodded weakly and began typing.
Leong stood, walked to the window, and gazed at the city below.
He could already see the first cracks in the lies they built around him.
It was time to widen those cracks.
A Shadow Begins to Move
The sun had nearly set when Leong stepped out of the building with a thick folder Kelvin prepared. Traffic lights flashed red across the street, casting a crimson glow—like silent warnings.
He walked toward the pedestrian bridge, but his steps slowed.
Someone was watching him.
He felt it—a prickling sensation at the back of his neck.
He turned slightly.
A sleek black car sat idling across the road. The windows were tinted, the silhouette inside barely visible, but Leong knew that presence.
Ren.
His step-brother always liked expensive cars he didn't earn.
The car door opened, and Ren stepped out wearing a smug smile.
"Well, well," Ren drawled, hands in pockets. "Look who finally crawled back from wherever he disappeared."
Leong remained silent.
Ren slowly circled him like a hyena that smelled something interesting.
"You look different," Ren said. "Colder. Tougher. Not your usual… soft self."
He smirked. "Must've been some vacation."
Leong said nothing.
Ren leaned in. "Sofia's been crying nonstop. Or so she claims. You should be a good boyfriend and see her."
Leong's fingers curled, but he controlled himself.
"Sofia," Ren went on dramatically, "has been so lonely. Visiting me often. Asking for my help. She really missed your presence."
Leong stiffened.
Ren chuckled. "Relax. I didn't touch her. Yet."
Leong's voice was quiet, deadly. "Walk away, Ren."
Ren raised a brow. "Oh? Are you threatening me now?"
"No," Leong replied calmly. "I'm giving you mercy."
Ren blinked—then laughed aloud.
"You're crazy, Leong. Your assets are frozen. Your reputation is a joke. You have nothing. You're nothing."
Leong met his eyes—unflinching, steady.
"I died before," Leong whispered. "And you were part of the reason."
Ren's laughter stopped abruptly.
A flicker of confusion—and unease—crossed his face.
"Died? What the hell are you talking about?"
Leong turned away. "You'll understand soon."
Ren grabbed his arm. "You think you can scare me?"
Leong's gaze shifted downward to Ren's hand.
"Let go."
Ren scoffed—but his fingers loosened involuntarily, as if something in Leong's eyes warned him.
Leong stepped back, calm but cold. "Enjoy your peace while it lasts."
Then he walked away, leaving Ren stunned, frustrated, and deeply unsettled.
Good.
Let fear be the first seed.
Nightfall and an Unexpected Voice
Hours later, Leong returned to his small rented room. He placed the thick folder on the wooden table and sat down. The street outside buzzed with distant engines and faint chatter.
He opened the folder and began scanning the records.
Every forged signature.
Every illegal transfer.
Every expense Sofia claimed to "handle for him."
Every mismatch in Ren's submitted accounts.
It was all there.
They hadn't even hidden it well.
Because in his past life, they believed he would never look.
Leong leaned back, closing his eyes briefly.
The anger was there—quiet, controlled, but strong enough to burn a city.
His phone buzzed.
He glanced at it.
A message from an unknown number:
"Did you reach home safely?"
Leong frowned.
Then another message came:
"It's Fatma."
He stared at the screen longer than he meant to.
Another message popped up:
"You looked troubled earlier… I just wanted to check on you."
Warmth crept into a part of him he had long locked away.
He typed slowly:
"I'm fine. Just handling old matters."
A reply came instantly:
"If old matters hurt you, then I hope the new ones bring you peace."
Leong inhaled sharply.
He didn't deserve words like that.
But they reached him anyway.
He typed:
"Thank you. Good night."
Fatma responded with a single soft line:
"Good night, Leong."
Leong put the phone down.
And for the first time since returning from the dead…
he genuinely felt something other than anger.
Something fragile.
Unfamiliar.
Unsteady.
But not unwelcome.
He shook his head and turned back to the documents.
There was no space for emotions.
Not now.
Yet Fatma's voice stayed in the back of his mind.
The First Step
As midnight settled over the city, Leong arranged the files into a neat stack.
Tomorrow, he would begin phase one.
Expose the first layer of corruption.
Test their reactions.
Disrupt their stability.
And watch the cracks spread.
He whispered to the empty room:
"They thought killing me was enough."
His eyes hardened.
"But they didn't bury me deep enough."
He closed the folder with finality.
The war had officially begun.