The morning began like any other. Jin Taewon walked through the streets of Busan in his impeccable school uniform, but with purple marks all over his face and arms. His steps were firm, even though inside he felt a whirlwind of emotions. He looked at the ground, ignoring the people around him, as if nothing else mattered other than the promise he once made.
"Never fight, never raise your hand to anyone."
These words had echoed in Jin's mind since he was seven years old. Back then, when he was still little, he didn't understand why his mother hugged him so tightly while she said that, with tears in her eyes.
When he reached the school gate, Jin sighed. He knew what awaited him. The same faces, the same teasing, the same pain.
Inside the classroom, the sound of the door opening made everyone turn their heads. Kang Doyun, the leader of the bullies, was smiling from the corner of his mouth. He was tall, had shaved hair on the sides, and had predatory eyes. Behind him came two others, less notorious but equally cowardly.
"Look who's here, the school's punching bag," Doyun said, making his classmates laugh.
Jin walked to his desk without saying a word. He sat down, opened his notebook, and kept his eyes fixed on the pages, trying to ignore the provocations.
But as always, that wasn't enough.
"Hey, Taewon," Doyun's mocking voice sounded too close. "Has your mother taught you how to be a man yet, or is she still treating you like a baby?"
Jin's clenched fist shook. He took a deep breath, trying to remember his promise. "Never fight." It was easy to say that when you weren't getting beaten up every day.
Before he could react, he felt the shove. He fell from his chair, his notebook flying. The laughter grew louder. One of the bullies kicked him in the shoulder while he was on the floor.
"Get up, weakling."
Jin's face darkened. For the first time, his usually dull eyes shone with something else. It wasn't fear. It wasn't sadness.
It was anger.
But he held it in.
He slowly stood up, picked up his notebook, and sat back down, ignoring the comments. Blood trickled from a cut on his lip.
At home, the smell of hot food filled the kitchen. Jin's mother, Lee Hana, stirred a pot, her eyes downcast, her hands shaking.
"If he has his father's strength… what am I going to do? How am I going to stop him… if it's inevitable?"
She knew she couldn't protect Jin forever. Not in the world they lived in. What if he woke up? What if she inherited not only the absurd strength, but also the thirst for violence? Hana knew firsthand the danger that that blood carried.
The images of the past haunted her. The tall man, in a dark suit, with cold eyes and bloodstained hands. She remembered the metallic smell in the air, the cold words, the criminal empire built on bones and fear.
"My son can't be the same."
The tears fell without her realizing it.
"Jin... forgive me..."
Meanwhile, Jin, in the room, stared at his hands. They were shaking, not from fear, but from the suffocated will. He wondered if there was something wrong with him. If he was weak for not fighting back or strong for enduring.
"Until when?"
The question hung in the air.