The world was broken, not by war or disaster, but by something far worse—humanity itself.
Justice was no longer a right but a privilege, bought and sold to the highest bidder. Laws no longer existed to protect the innocent but to shield those with power and wealth. The government turned a blind eye, reducing justice to mere scraps of paper. Those who walked in the light were bound by rules, while those who thrived in the shadows rewrote them to serve their own greed.
Murderers roamed freely, their crimes buried beneath stacks of money and influence. The guilty sat in high places, smiling through polished teeth as they signed away lives with a stroke of a pen. The powerful fed on the weak, their hunger insatiable, their sins endless. And those who dared to defy them? They vanished in an instant, erased from existence as if they had never lived at all.
Fear had become currency, more valuable than gold.
The streets whispered of horrors, their voices unheard by a government that turned a blind eye—stories that would never make the news. A girl vanished on her way home, her face appearing on missing posters, only for the world to forget as years passed.
A man was gunned down in broad daylight, yet his killer walked free, his family name outweighing any evidence. And a child, locked away in a basement, his cries ignored because his suffering profited someone with the right connections—someone who mattered.
People knew. They always knew. But knowing was dangerous. Speaking out was suicide.
Their eyes, filled with unease, turned away, deceiving themselves into silence. They convinced themselves it wasn't their problem, choosing ignorance over action. And so, the world continued this way—unchanged, unchallenged, just as it always had.
It wasn't always this way. Or maybe it was, and people were just better at pretending before.
Once, long ago, justice was an ideal worth fighting for. There were those who truly believed in it—people who stood for what was right, convinced that fairness and truth could triumph over corruption. Some fought with words, others with laws, and a few with their bare hands. But one by one, they fell, until none remained.
Until history forgot those who fought back. Their stories were rewritten, their victories erased. Those who survived learned the truth—the system was never broken, it was designed this way. And for those who benefited from it, there was never a reason to change a thing.
The poor were meant to stay poor. The weak were meant to be trampled. The powerful were meant to rule, this had been the rule, now the rules had been written in this world.
It was an unspoken law, enforced not by courts or police, but by something deeper. The world itself conspired to keep things as they were. The rich and corrupt were untouchable, protected by forces unseen, as if fate itself had chosen them to reign.
Some called it luck. Others called it destiny.
But for those who suffered, it was simply reality.
In broad daylight, the world pretended to be civilized. The powerful toyed with lives as if they were experiments, while ordinary people went about their days—working, laughing, loving—wearing the masks society demanded of them. They spoke of justice as if it still meant something, clinging to the illusion that laws protected them. But deep down, they knew the truth—laws were nothing more than tools, wielded by those in power.
The police who were meant to uphold the law took orders from criminals with deeper pockets. Judges who were meant to deliver justice signed away lives like they were nothing more than ink on paper. Leaders who swore to protect the people saw them only as numbers—pawns to be sacrificed, statistics to be manipulated.
And when the cameras were off, when the reporters left, when the lights dimmed and the world turned away—
That was when the monsters emerged.
Not the kind with claws and fangs. No, these monsters were worse.
They wore expensive suits and designer watches, their hands clean even as they orchestrated the suffering of thousands. They sat in offices that smelled of leather and whiskey, making decisions that would ruin lives while sipping on aged wine.
They hid behind their screens, sending messages that destroyed families with a single keystroke.
They smiled in interviews, spoke of progress and change, while behind closed doors, they laughed at those who believed them.
And at the bottom—trapped in the endless cycle—were the people who had no choice but to endure.
The single mother working three jobs, praying her landlord wouldn't raise the rent again. The father who swallowed his pride as his child begged for something he couldn't afford. The teenager who took a dangerous job because there were no other options.
They lived with the weight of injustice pressing down on them, crushing their dreams, silencing their voices.
And no one came to save them!
Because in this world, justice belonged only to those who could afford it.
Perhaps the cruelest part of it all was the silence.
The way suffering became routine. The way people learned to accept it.
A man beaten in an alley? Just another night.A woman taken from the streets? Tragic, but not surprising.A child crying in the dark? Someone else's problem.
There was no outrage. No rebellion. No heroes rising from the shadows to set things right.
People had been beaten down too many times, betrayed too often, abandoned too easily. Hope had died long ago, suffocated beneath the weight of reality.
The world belonged to the sinners.
And the innocent?
They were nothing more than prey.
But everything changed in a single night. The city choked under a suffocating darkness, rain pouring endlessly until the streets flooded, drowning distant sirens and muffling the desperate cries of a woman trapped in an alleyway. Kaito should have walked away, should have minded his own business like always. But his feet moved on their own, his body following instinct when he saw a man standing there—His hands are filled with lust, and a smile that sent a chill through the night.