"GET UP, YOU LITTLE BRAT! DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS ALREADY?! GET DRESSED AND GO TO SCHOOL! KEEP THIS UP AND NO ONE IN THIS DAMN WORLD WILL EVER WANT YOU!"
The hoarse shout, roughened by age and exhaustion, echoed through the old house.
But the child being scolded had already been awake for a long time.
Truong Long sat motionless on his bed, his back pressed against the cold wall. In his hand, his phone played the same old recording over and over again. His grandfather's voice, painfully familiar. Each time it played, his heart trembled as if someone were squeezing it tight.
And the tears, no matter how hard he tried to stop them, kept falling silently.
"Grandpa… Grandpa… sob…"
His voice broke apart, fragmented between sobs he had suppressed for far too long. His grandfather had been gone for exactly one year, yet the pain had never faded. It was like a wound that never healed. Touch it lightly, and it would bleed again.
Truong Long was fifteen years old. Thin, small-framed, his hair permanently messy as if no one ever bothered to comb it. His face was pale, lacking the vitality of a boy his age. In this world, his grandfather had been his only family.
Since birth, he had never once seen his parents' faces. He knew they were still alive. His mother did not want to see him, and his grandfather had never allowed him to meet his father. Why, Long had never known. And he had never dared to ask.
From early childhood to adolescence, it had been only his grandfather who raised him, with love, care, and a home that was rich not only in material comfort but also in warmth.
That peaceful life ended on his fourteenth birthday.
That day, rain poured relentlessly. Thunder and lightning tore through the sky as if trying to rip the world apart.
Long sat inside the house, swinging his legs in anticipation, waiting for his grandfather to return with his birthday cake. Sitting beside him was Liam, his closest friend.
Liam was taller and more muscular than most boys his age. He was from England, born with albinism. His snow-white hair and pale skin stood out sharply, yet there was a strange charm about him. His refined features, deep and cold eyes, and an indescribable air about him made it feel as though he always stood half a step above everyone else.
Liam had moved to Vietnam when he was seven. He met Truong Long that same year, and from then on, the two were inseparable.
If Long was sensitive and emotionally fragile, Liam was strong and decisive, always the one to step forward in difficult situations. They were complete opposites, yet somehow became so close that Long once believed Liam was like a brother to him.
Until the moment the door burst open.
A thunderclap roared.
Long's grandfather stood in the doorway. His entire body was drenched in blood. It was impossible to tell whose blood it was, or when it had started flowing.
Long's world stopped.
"Grandpa! Oh god, Grandpa, are you okay?!"
Long rushed forward, his hands trembling as he tried to reach out, then pulled back in panic, afraid that touching him might make things worse.
"I… I need to call an ambulance…"
His voice wavered. Liam spoke immediately, far calmer.
"I already did. They'll be here soon. Help Mr. Nam sit down and get the first-aid kit."
Mr. Nam raised a hand to stop them and gave a faint smile.
"No need… you two."
He placed a hand on Long's shoulder. It was unnaturally cold.
"I'm sorry. From now on… I can't take care of my beloved grandson anymore."
Long shook his head repeatedly.
"You are my pride," Mr. Nam said softly. "And you too, Liam… I care about you both."
His voice grew weaker.
"It's my fault… I was a soldier once… I was…" He hesitated, then sighed softly. "I'm ashamed that I didn't have enough resolve, and now the future of you two has to suffer because of me."
"Grandpa… what are you saying?" Long burst into tears. "I don't understand… please don't leave me…"
Mr. Nam raised his hand. In it was the birthday cake.
"Happy birthday, Long."
Then he turned to Liam.
"Take care of him… for me."
Blood spilled from his mouth.
His body collapsed.
Long clutched his grandfather, screaming until his voice was gone. The rain that day fell relentlessly, as if trying to drown the heavens and the earth alike.
Liam stood frozen. His hand clenched into a fist and smashed into the wooden door, cracking it.
"Damn it…"
What followed were cold days of investigation. The police found no clues. On Mr. Nam's body, they discovered a will written in advance.
The final conclusion was suicide.
All assets, including the farm, were left to Truong Long.
And Long locked himself in his room.
He saw no one. He went to no school.
The pain inside him felt like thousands of dull blades, slowly carving him apart. The more he remembered his days with his grandfather, the harder it became to breathe.
The school tried to encourage him to return.
But Liam did not.
He never visited, not even once.
When Long finally forced himself back to school, Liam had become distant. Cold. Avoidant.
Long was lonely, but he endured. The entrance exam was approaching. He had promised his grandfather he would become a doctor. He could not break that promise.
After the exam, things only got worse.
Liam began to bully him.
No one intervened.
School became a living hell. But the most painful part was not the abuse itself. It was that the one hurting him was the same person he had once considered family.
After losing his grandfather, all Long received were prying stares, whispered rumors, and indifference from teachers, as if the entire world had turned its back on him.
He collapsed completely.
And then, a thought surfaced.
"If the world doesn't need me… why do I exist at all?"
Summer came.
Which was now.
Long turned off the recording of his grandfather's voice and stepped down from his bed. His steps were unsteady, echoing through the terrifyingly silent house.
Memories were everywhere.
The tractor where he once sat behind his grandfather, eating ice cream as they talked in the sunset. The shed where his grandfather bent over to make crude wooden swords for him.
He wanted to cry. But his tears had long since run dry.
Long lit an incense stick before the ancestral altar.
"Please let me go with you."
He smiled, as if he had finally let everything go.
The rope was ready.
The chair fell.
His body hung in the air, struggling instinctively. His lungs burned. His vision narrowed.
As his consciousness faded, his grandfather's voice echoed in his mind.
"You damn brat."
Long jolted.
The rope snapped.
He crashed to the floor. The sound of splintering wood rang sharply. Long coughed violently, tearing the rope from his neck, gasping like someone pulled from deep water.
He looked up at his grandfather's portrait.
It felt as if his grandfather had just saved him.
His hand brushed against the floor and slipped into a crack. A faint light seeped up from below.
His heart pounded.
Prying the floor open, Long froze.
Beneath the house was a basement.
A basement he had never known existed all these years.
Fear. Confusion. Yet curiosity pushed him forward.
Holding a flashlight, Long descended into the damp, dark space. His footsteps echoed, dragging unease along with them.
At the end of the tunnel, he stopped.
Before him stood a massive stone gate, carved with unfamiliar ancient symbols that glowed faintly.
Before he could process what was happening, his hand touched it.
Light erupted.
The space trembled.
The gate opened.
Beyond it was another world.
Long stepped back half a pace.
His breathing was ragged, his heart pounding as if it would burst from his chest. Cold sweat streamed down his spine. His flashlight shook violently.
Impossible.
This thing could not exist.
A stone gate. Glowing runes. Space beyond it twisted like a distorted dream. This was not something a normal human could accept in mere seconds.
Long turned back.
The dark staircase behind him looked like the gaping mouth of a beast. He could go back up, close the floor, and pretend he had never seen any of this.
At least, he could lie to himself.
But the image of his grandfather collapsing in a pool of blood surfaced in his mind.
"Who are you… really?"
His voice trembled, barely audible even to himself.
If his grandfather had been just an ordinary former soldier, then what was this?
Questions flooded in, crushing his chest. Fear and anger tangled into a chaotic storm of emotion.
He had only one family his entire life.
And that person had hidden an entire world from him.
Long clenched his fist.
"If you were still alive… you would explain everything to me, wouldn't you?"
There was no answer.
Only the light of the gate, quietly wavering, as if waiting.
Long swallowed.
He was afraid.
But he had already been afraid enough to want to die.
Compared to the emptiness he felt before his grandfather's altar, this fear was still bearable.
Besides, he had already lost everything.
If what lay ahead was hell, then at least he wanted to know why he had been pushed there.
Long stepped forward.
The light swallowed him whole.