CHAPTER 0 Prologue
"KUARGHH!"
This feeling—envy, joy, the longing for death—all of it consumed me in this moment.
CRUNCH! "COUGH!" "COUGH!"
The scent of blood clung to the air as I tore through the village, the flames casting mocking shadows. My footsteps echoed in the chaos, a slow dance of destruction.
Am I truly evil? The thought flashed through my mind, but I didn't dwell on it. The world had never asked for much, and now it didn't deserve much.
The screech of a knife slicing through flesh was music to my ears. The desperate cries, the pleading voices for mercy—these were the sounds that fed me.
"PLEASE HELP ME!" "NO! NO! N-!"
The fire roared as if it, too, reveled in the chaos. I stood amidst it, the orchestrator of this madness, and couldn't help but laugh.
Is this it? Is this the moment everything ends?
Perhaps I had it coming. But none of it seemed to matter anymore.
[ "Hyeonwoo, answer me." ]
[ "Yes, Father. I'm here." ]
[ "Don't start a pitiful revenge." ]
[ "In my last moments, I want you to know you can bring good to this world, I assure you." ]
[ "Yes, Father. I will try." ]
But the weight of those words, the burden of his hope, it had started to slip away. In truth, it never sat well with me.
"HEY, THERE HE IS!"
"YOU FUCKING SCUM! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS?"
CRUNCH!
A force hit me like a storm, throwing me to the ground. The man who tackled me seethed with rage, his face twisted in fury.
What did he know of this? This hypocrite—he was the one who took you from me, Father. And yet he dared speak of morality?
SPIT!
I tried to push him off, but his hold was firm, almost too effortless.
"You've learned to fight, haven't you?" he hissed, a glint of superiority in his eyes.
"No," I rasped, my breath choking in my throat.
The man's grip was iron, his movements calculated and practiced. But even with him on top, the thought of escape barely registered.
"I should end you here before you get any stronger," he sneered, pressing harder. "You should've just stayed where you were, mourning your dead father."
The sword flashed, sharp as a promise. It came down with swift precision.
STAB!
COUGH! COUGH!
I felt the pain, but it was distant. My body shook, blood staining the dirt beneath me, but my mind had already wandered elsewhere. The blade wasn't what mattered. It wasn't the death I had imagined, not the one that would bring me peace.
"REST ASSURED, EVERYONE! I HAVE STOPPED THIS VILLAIN!"
HOORAY! HOORAY!
"Commander, what are you doing?" A voice from the crowd broke through, a trace of confusion.
"We didn't need to help these peasants at all."
The commander's words were smooth, calculated. "It's about gaining favor. They need to think this is justice."
I felt nothing. The cries of the villagers, the commander's words—they were nothing. What were they to me?
The commander stepped closer, his shadow looming over me. "Take him away. He doesn't have much time left, but I don't want him in my sight."
And with that, I was dragged away, my body too weak to resist, but my thoughts sharp and clear.
"If we meet again, I will end you," He muttered, the words slipping past my mind as quick as my breath.
[ Five Days Later ]
The gates of the city parted reluctantly for the man who walked through them. There was something unnerving about his presence, a weight to his every step that commanded attention.
"I am looking for someone," he said, his voice low but unmistakably authoritative.
A merchant, ever eager to profit, stepped forward. "Yes, I can try and help—at the right price."
"Hmm. Who are they?"
Before the merchant could respond, the loud jeers of a crowd filled the air.
"BOOOO! YOU'RE ALL SCUM! DIE ALREADY!"
A group of criminals, bruised and bloodied, waited in a barred carriage, awaiting their grisly fate. The crowd's thirst for violence was palpable, a sick hunger that rippled through the air.
The man's gaze flicked toward the scene, sharp, focused. "There. I found him."
The merchant blinked, startled. "Wait, what? Who—"
"Thank you for your time," the man cut him off, moving past without a second glance.
Meanwhile, in the cold, dark cell, I lay shackled, my body bruised and broken, but my thoughts, sharp as ever, burned with something else. Not pain, not fear. The shadows seemed to whisper, mocking the weakness in my form, but I did not care. The night was silent except for the echo of footsteps nearing my cell.
The guard's sneer met me through the bars. "Enjoy your last breaths, scum. Two days from now, you'll be nothing."
I stared at the ceiling, my resolve hardening with each passing moment. If this was my end, then so be it. I was not one to beg or to plead. I had never been one to do what others expected of me.
Father, I'm sorry. I never understood you, but it's too late now. I'll never be what you wanted.