It had been a week since Gyeo had shown him the door. A week since the words "You're worthy" echoed in his mind, the weight of that possibility settling heavily on his shoulders. But nothing had changed in Wooin's life—at least, not on the surface. He worked in the forge as usual, hammering steel, shaping metal, all while his thoughts drifted to the challenge Gyeo had presented. The mysterious door, the legacy of Hak Yon, it felt like a dream, a distant promise. But for now, the forge was his world, and there was no room for distractions.
At least, that's what Wooin had told himself.
The clang of his hammer had become a rhythm again, a constant in a world that seemed to offer little else in terms of stability. His body, honed by the years of working the forge, was still strong, his hands steady. But as the days passed, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to change. The world had a way of testing him, pushing him to his limits, and Wooin could feel that tension in the air—a tightening, like a storm on the horizon.
---
That evening, after the work was done and his tools were cleaned and put away, Wooin made his way back home. The familiar path through the winding streets of their impoverished neighborhood was oddly quiet, the usual noise of children playing or vendors shouting their wares absent. It was a silence that unsettled him.
When he arrived at his doorstep, he immediately noticed something wrong. The door, which his mother always kept locked and secured, was slightly ajar. His heart skipped a beat. Wooin's instincts screamed at him, but he pushed them aside as he stepped forward, his breath quickening.
"Mother? Haeji?" he called, his voice low but urgent.
No answer.
His hand gripped the door tightly, pushing it open. Inside, the house was chaos. Furniture overturned. Drawers ripped open. The air was thick with tension, and the sharp, clashing sounds of struggle filled the house. Wooin's blood ran cold as he entered the living room. What he saw made his stomach churn.
In the center of the room, his mother, bloodied and bruised, was curled in a corner, clutching her side. Her clothes were torn, and her face was swollen. She was pleading for mercy, her voice trembling as she begged for them to stop.
Standing around her, a group of men towered, dark figures in the dim light. They wore nondescript, dark clothing, their faces shadowed by hoods and masks. And beside them, his younger sister, Haeji, was being dragged toward the door. Her arms were bound, her face streaked with tears, her eyes wide with fear.
Wooin's pulse roared in his ears. This was no common robbery. This was something far darker. His bloodshot eyes locked onto the men who were taking his sister, and in an instant, all his anger, came rushing to the surface.
"Let her go!" Wooin shouted, his voice raw with fury.
Before the men could react, Wooin charged. His body was solid from years of working the forge, his muscles strong and well-defined. He had always prided himself on being able to handle the toughest tasks, but this was different. This wasn't a simple fight—this was his family.
His first strike landed solidly on the chest of one of the men, sending him stumbling backward. Another man swung a fist at Wooin, but he ducked, his reflexes sharp. A series of quick, brutal strikes followed. Wooin landed a solid punch to one man's jaw, and another to a man's stomach, feeling the satisfying crunch of impact.
For a moment, it seemed like he might actually win. But then, as if on cue, the others moved as one, quickly surrounding him. One of them caught his arm, twisting it behind his back with inhuman strength, while another kicked the back of his knee, sending him crashing to the ground.
The world spun as Wooin struggled, his body suddenly weak, his vision clouded with pain. He tried to fight back, but the men were too fast, too skilled. They had no hesitation, no mercy. The moment he was pinned, they took control.
"W-What do you want?" Wooin gasped, struggling to breathe as one of the men held him down by the throat.
"Shut up," the man hissed, his voice cold. "You don't get to ask the questions."
From his position on the floor, Wooin could see the leader of the group—a tall figure with a scar running down his cheek—approaching his mother. He ignored Wooin's desperate pleas, his eyes flicking over to the sobbing Haeji.
"You didn't listen, did you?" the leader said, his voice smooth, almost mocking. "You've made this far harder on yourself than it needed to be."
One of the men threw a small, folded note down onto Wooin's chest before they all turned to leave, dragging Haeji with them. Wooin's body screamed in protest as he tried to rise, but the men were already gone, disappearing into the darkness of the night with his sister.
"NO!" Wooin shouted, but his voice was drowned out by the deafening silence that followed their departure.
For a long moment, Wooin lay there, his chest heaving, staring at the spot where they had disappeared. His mind raced, trying to piece together what had just happened. Who were these men? Why his sister? His thoughts barely had time to form before the reality of the situation hit him. His mother—she was still here.
Wooin turned toward her, his heart pounding in his chest. She was still breathing, but barely. Her bloodstained body trembled as she tried to lift her head, her eyes half-lidded with exhaustion and pain.
"Mother!" Wooin cried, rushing to her side. He grabbed her gently, cradling her in his arms. "Stay with me. Please stay with me."
But his mother barely responded, her lips moving weakly as if she was trying to speak.
"Haeji… they took Haeji…" she whispered, her voice cracked, the pain in her eyes more than Wooin could bear.
His throat tightened as he fought to keep himself together. "I'll get her back. I swear it."
He scooped his mother into his arms and carried her as quickly as he could to the nearest clinic, his mind a whirlwind of anger and fear. But no matter how fast he moved, he couldn't shake the image of his sister, helpless and in the hands of those men. They were gone. And in their place was a fear so deep it threatened to swallow him whole.
At the clinic, he waited outside the treatment room, his mind a chaotic storm. The healers had taken his mother inside, but his thoughts couldn't leave her, couldn't leave Haeji. His body shook with pent-up rage, the uncertainty gnawing at him.
It was then that he remembered the note. He pulled it from his pocket, unfolding it with trembling fingers. There, written in stark, precise characters, was an address—a location.
"Go here, if you want her back."
Wooin stared at the note, the ink seeming to burn in his hands. His eyes narrowed. This wasn't just a random address. It was a trap. A challenge.
A test.
But who were these people? Why had they taken Haeji? And more importantly, why had they left this note for him?
His heart pounded in his chest as a cold realization settled over him: the world was changing faster than he could keep up. And somehow, his connection to Gyeo, to Hak Yon's legacy, was no longer just a distant possibility. It was becoming a need.
He folded the note carefully, tucking it back into his coat pocket. He would find them. He would find his sister.
And when he did, the world would pay for what it had done.
But as he stood in the darkened clinic hallway, the mystery of the note still gnawing at him, one final question lingered in his mind:
Was this part of the challenge Gyeo had warned him about?
And if so, what awaited him at the end of this path?