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CHAPTER 2: Golden Figure and Memories
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Suddenly, a brilliant light, as bright and blinding as the midday sun, erupted behind him.
His heart raced, eyes widening in disbelief. His thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm as he whipped around, desperate to comprehend the impossible sight unfolding before him. But before he could fully process the dazzling scene, an invisible force struck him, and his legs buckled under its weight.
*Thud.*
He collapsed to the ground, the world spinning in a chaotic whirl. The last thing he saw was the world turned upside down—the full moon, round and pale, casting its cold, ethereal glow over the landscape. But something else caught his eye, something strange—a chill ran down his spine as he noticed a golden rectangular box materializing in front of his face, hovering just above the tranquil surface of the river.
The water, usually a source of peace, seemed unnervingly still, as if holding its breath. Yet, the calmness of the river was the last thing his mind registered before everything slipped into the black abyss of unconsciousness.
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*The sound of water flowing softly...*
The gentle murmur of the river called to him, pulling him back from the depths of darkness, and with it, memories began to resurface, like ghosts from a past he wished he could forget.
He remembered his life—how he had come into this world not as a beloved son, but as a child without a name, without a family. Born into a family of four, yet never truly theirs, he had been adopted from an orphanage, a place where children like him were left to wonder if they would ever be loved.
He was only 8 years old when the car crash shattered his world. He remembered the twisted metal, the screams, the fire... His family—his *adoptive* family—were in that car, and he was later told that their bodies had been burned beyond recognition. In one cruel instant, everything he knew, everything he loved, was gone—reduced to ash and smoke.
With no family left, no one to hold him close, he was sent back to the orphanage. The place he had once left, full of hope, now became his only refuge. The orphanage owner, Jun-hee, took him in again, the same man who had given him a name, who had tried to fill the void in his heart. He had named him *Tian*, which means "river"—a name that somehow felt both comforting and tragic, like the gentle flow of water that could also sweep everything away.
Jun-hee wasn't just the owner of the orphanage; he was more than that. He was a friend, a mentor, almost a father, though Tian knew that no blood tied them together. Yet, despite the lack of blood relation, the bond they shared was deep, forged in the fires of loss and sorrow.
The most important people in Tian's life treated him as their own, weaving a tapestry of memories—some sweet, some bitter, but all precious. They became his family, filling the void left by the accident with love, however imperfect it might have been.
Everyone at the orphanage called Jun-hee "Grandpa Hee," and Tian, though he knew better, did the same. At 60 years old, Grandpa Hee had an ageless warmth about him, a kindness that made him worthy of the title. He was a man who had faced more than his share of heartache. Tian knew that Grandpa Hee had once had a family of his own—a wife, Grandma Pearl, who had passed away when Grandpa Hee was just 6 years old. Losing her so young had left scars, scars that Tian could see in the way Grandpa Hee looked at the children in his care, as if trying to protect them from the same loneliness he had known.
It had been a hard life for Grandpa Hee, growing up without the woman who had been his world. Yet, despite all the pain, despite the loneliness that had haunted him, he had managed to build something beautiful. The orphanage became a home, a place of love and laughter, a sanctuary for children who had no other places.