It was a cold, wind-bitten night—one of those hollow, silent hours just before dawn when the streets seemed deserted, as if even the moon had grown weary of watching over the world. The city of Coast Nation lay still, its tall buildings looming like quiet sentinels in the darkness. Not a soul walked the cracked sidewalks. No headlights pierced the shadows. Just the faint hum of far-off traffic and the soft echo of footsteps.
Those footsteps belonged to Xue Yan.
A tall, striking young man with sharp features and haunted eyes, he moved silently down the empty road. His hands were buried in the pockets of his thin coat, shoulders hunched against the chill. Though he had once been born into wealth, with a silver spoon practically placed in his crib, all that comfort had long since vanished.
Now, he was alone. A son walking beneath the broken streetlights, doing mental calculations no one his age should ever have to do.
The hospital bill for Mum… the new medication they just prescribed… and there's rent due in three days. Electricity's almost out too… he thought, eyes staring blankly ahead as numbers ran through his mind. What can I afford this week? What can I delay?
You might wonder what a young man like him—handsome, dignified even in rags—was doing wandering through the most silent parts of the city at such a ghostly hour.
But appearances are deceiving. Despite being born into privilege, Xue Yan and his mother had been abandoned when he was just a boy. His father had walked away, not only from his responsibilities but from their lives entirely, leaving them to fend for themselves in a world that didn't care.
His mother had worked hard—too hard. She labored through low-paying jobs, long hours, and sleepless nights just to make sure her son had food on the table and an education in his future. She sacrificed everything, right up until the day her body finally gave out and illness took hold.
That was when everything changed.
Xue Yan had just finished high school when she fell sick. And so, instead of chasing his own dreams, he picked up a mop and an apron and got to work. He took on two part-time jobs during the week—cleaning offices, delivering parcels—and on weekends, he worked at a small coffee shop. Every cent he earned went into covering school fees, hospital visits, rent, power bills, medication, and food.
Somehow, he made it through university, earning a degree that sparkled with potential. But the world didn't want him. Or more accurately—his name.
Every job application was met with silence. Every interview ended in disappointment. No matter how polished his résumé was, no matter how well he performed, something always shut the door in his face.
Desperate, he took a job at a club—as a bartender.
It wasn't what he had dreamed of, but it paid better than most. He started at 3 p.m. and worked deep into the night, often closing at 2 a.m., surrounded by drunks, laughter, smoke, and flashing lights. It was a different world, one that slowly eroded his sense of hope.
And that night—that night—was just like any other. Or so he thought.
Xue Yan had just finished another long, exhausting shift. His legs ached. His head throbbed from the music. All he wanted was to get home, take off his shoes, and collapse for a few hours before the next battle began.
He took the usual shortcut, a quiet alley that cut through a small industrial block. It was faster, and at that hour, he believed it was safe enough.
But then it happened.
Out of nowhere, from a narrow dead-end corner, a shadow lunged.
Before he could scream or even react, rough hands grabbed him. The figure dragged him into the darkness—an ambush swift and brutal. He fought. God, he tried. But exhaustion had made his body weak, and fear clouded his reflexes. He was thrown to the cold concrete, and then—
Pain.
Violation.
Silence.
It was like time stopped. Like he was trapped in a nightmare that refused to end. When it was finally over, the attacker disappeared into the shadows, vanishing like a ghost. And Xue Yan was left broken, lying half-conscious in a cold, forgotten corner of the city.
Minutes passed—or maybe hours. He wasn't sure.
Eventually, he stirred. His body ached. His soul felt splintered. Tears streamed silently down his cheeks as he tried to sit up, clutching his bruised side.
Then his phone rang.
The shrill sound was jarring in the quiet.
With trembling fingers, he fumbled the device out of his pocket and answered without looking.
"Xue Yan? Where are you?" came a familiar voice—his neighbor from the apartment building, an older woman who sometimes checked on him.
He didn't know how to answer. He didn't know what to say. Words failed him.
"I'm fine," he finally whispered, even though he wasn't.
Nothing about that night was fine.