The rain poured relentlessly, its icy droplets stinging like needles against his skin. Somewhere in the distance, the city’s neon lights flickered, casting eerie reflections on the puddles beneath his feet. For the first time in years, Leon—known to the world’s underbelly as Ghost—felt cornered.

He crouched on a rooftop, his breathing steady despite the chaos below. Police sirens wailed, and the shouts of armed men echoed through the maze of steel and glass. He had been here before, countless times. But this time was different.

“Ghost,” a voice crackled through his earpiece, laced with panic. “They’ve got you surrounded. This is a setup. Get out of there!”

Leon smirked, his gloved fingers tightening around the pistol in his hand. “You think I don’t know that?”

He had sensed the betrayal long before the trap was sprung. His years as the world’s deadliest assassin had honed his instincts to a razor’s edge. But knowing didn’t change the outcome.

Below, shadows moved—dozens of armed men closing in like predators. His escape routes were blocked, his backup compromised.

“Damn it, Ghost! There’s no way out!”

Leon exhaled, his breath misting in the cold night air. “There’s always a way out.”

With a flick of his wrist, he holstered his pistol and drew a second blade from his belt. The steel gleamed under the dim light, a ghostly reflection of the man who wielded it.

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“Tell the others,” he said, his voice calm despite the storm. “The mission’s complete. Target’s dead.”

“What? That wasn’t the plan! You were supposed to—”

“Plans change,” Leon interrupted, cutting the line.

He rose to his full height, the rain soaking through his clothes. Below, the armed men spotted him, their shouts growing louder.

Leon smiled faintly. If this is how it ends, so be it.

The first shot rang out, shattering the silence.

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Darkness enveloped him.

It was cold, weightless, and utterly silent. For a moment, Leon thought it was over—that his life, marked by blood and shadows, had finally reached its conclusion.

But then, something stirred.

A warmth bloomed in his chest, spreading through his limbs like wildfire. His body, or what was left of it, felt strange—light and unfamiliar.

When his eyes fluttered open, he was greeted not by the cold steel of a city rooftop, but by a canopy of silk and gold.

“What...?” His voice, soft and uncertain, startled him. It was higher-pitched, younger.

He sat up, his hands gripping the fine linens beneath him. A wave of dizziness washed over him, followed by a rush of foreign memories.

A name surfaced from the fog.

“Leon...Eryndor.”

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The Eryndor estate was a far cry from the dark alleys and dingy safehouses Leon had known. Opulent and sprawling, it reeked of power and privilege. But beneath the grandeur, Leon sensed a fragility—one that mirrored the boy whose body he now inhabited.

The memories came in fragments: an ill-fated duel, a father’s scorn, whispers of a frail and timid noble boy unworthy of his lineage.

Leon’s lips curved into a smirk. “Looks like I’ve traded one set of problems for another.”

Yet, as disorienting as the situation was, it came with a realization that sent a thrill through him.

He was alive.

Not as the assassin Ghost, hunted and betrayed, but as Leon Eryndor, a noble in a world teeming with magic and wonder.

A new chance. A new game.

And this time, he intended to play by his own rules.