It was a beautiful morning. The kind that made the sky look cleaner, the air smell sweeter.
A chubby, middle-aged man jogged through the park lanes, music thumping in his ears. Headphones in. Tracksuit on. A slight grin rested on his face as he bobbed his head to the beat. This was his daily routine. His "healthy" hour before a long lazy day.
But suddenly—
He slowed.
A chill ran up his spine.
He paused, glancing around. The trees swayed gently. Leaves rustled. Empty paths stretched ahead and behind. But he couldn't shake the feeling... that someone was watching him.
He stared into the bushes. No one. The streetlights buzzed quietly.
"Hmph... stupid overthinking," he murmured to himself, shaking his head.
He resumed jogging.
But far behind him, almost blending into the misty morning fog—
A silhouette stood still.
Watching.
—
"I've done enough jogging for a week," the man wheezed as he entered his posh home.
Sweat dripping, he dropped his shoes by the door and shuffled toward the bathroom.
"Time to freshen up."
Soon, the tub was full. He soaked himself into it, letting out a satisfied sigh.
The steam rose. His head tilted back. Eyes closed. But at that very moment, a slow, eerie song began playing beyond the bathroom door—instantly filling him with dread.
🎵
Hide if you want, I love the chase,
Your fear, your sweat—a sweet embrace,
One coin paid, now death finds place.
🎵
His eyes shot open.
"What the...?"
He jolted upright in the tub, water sloshing. His heart thudded violently.
"WHO'S THERE?! SHOW YOURSELF!"
No answer.
Only steam. Silence.
He rushed out of the tub, grabbed a towel, and fumbled for his phone. He began to dial—
And then… he saw him.
In the mirror behind him—
A tall man in black. A hollow white mask, smiling eerily back at him.
The man spun around, mouth open to scream—
But it was too late.
A blade pierced his throat in one, clean stab. His blood splattered across the sink. He collapsed, choking, staring in horror.
"Wh–who... are you...?" he gasped, his body shaking.
The masked man bent down slowly and whispered:
"Deadly Smile."
—
From the hallway, hidden behind the half-open door, the man's house servant had seen everything.
He covered his mouth, breath frozen. He could feel the killer knew he was there.
But the killer did nothing.
Just walked away.
Somewhere across the city, the morning looked normal.
A man around 34 years old sat on his balcony, reading a newspaper calmly. His short, black hair was slightly messy, and a faint smile rested on his lips. A steaming cup of tea sat beside him.
His wife sat in the living room, folding laundry. She was elegant, beautiful, and warm. A small girl played nearby with her toys while an older boy sat on the sofa, flipping through a comic book.
"Everywhere you look, there's a new murder," the wife said suddenly, glancing at the news on the TV. "Can you believe how that poor man was killed? The one who ran that gambling house…"
The man slowly looked up at the screen. His eyes focused.
The camera showed the body.
The victim.
A man the audience had just seen—stabbed in his own bathroom.
The man on the balcony didn't blink.
He sipped his tea.
And in that moment, the truth clicked:
He was the killer.
This calm, quiet man with a family… was Deadly Smile.
His name?
Ragnorp Rajbongshi.
No one knew what those coins truly meant, or what history he buried behind that smiling mask.
His wife Giavanna once shared the same dark past, a trained assassin herself. But she had no idea he had returned to that world. Their children? Completely unaware.
He had promised he left it behind.
But now... he was back.
—
Just then, his phone buzzed. A private line.
He stepped outside, picked up the call, and spoke quietly:
"The Coins gone."
And like that…
the monster inside the man smiled again.
Giavanna stood by the kitchen counter, folding laundry while the TV murmured in the background. Her eyes shifted to the screen as the news anchor's voice grew sharper.
A trembling man appeared on-screen—middle-aged, clearly shaken, eyes wide with fear. The label beneath him read: House Servant – Eyewitness.
"He… he was wearing a black suit," the servant stammered.
"His face… it wasn't a face. It was a hollow mask… with a terrifying smile. I-I was frozen. I couldn't do anything."
Giavanna narrowed her eyes.
The screen shifted again—this time, to a blurry black-and-white CCTV clip. It showed a tall figure walking through a hallway, his face distorted by a white mask—curved in a wide, unnatural smile.
The crime scene cut in. Two officers stood surveying the area. One of them turned toward the other.
His lips moved.
The word was clear.
"Deadly Smile."
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To be continued...