Chapter 17: The Weight of Truth
The air felt heavy—like an invisible hand choking the city.
Ji-ho stood in front of a massive projection screen in the center of Seoul's public square. His bloodied hands clutched a hologram chip—his final piece of evidence. The footage showed grotesque scenes from the hidden facility: broken bodies of failed experiments, children hooked to devil stone energy machines, and one unmistakable face—the 4th target, laughing as he ordered another test subject into the chamber.
The crowd stood still, hundreds of awakened and non-awakened alike. Eyes wide, breaths held.
"This is the truth!" Ji-ho screamed, his voice strained from nights of hiding, running, and surviving. "He used innocent people for experiments. This is what your 'protector' is doing behind closed doors!"
Silence.
Then whispers.
But not of support. Not of sympathy.
Instead:
> "Isn't that the Devil's Association he's accusing?"
"That's dangerous talk…"
"They say he killed hundreds. Maybe this is just a setup."
Ji-ho's heart dropped.
"Are you all blind?!" he shouted again, nearly in tears. "You know this is true. You've all heard the rumors. But none of you have the strength to speak because of power!"
That word—power—echoed across the square.
A tall awakened man stepped forward, his association badge gleaming. "You've said enough. You're under arrest for the murder of registered awakened personnel, terrorism, and incitement of rebellion."
Kim Ye-jun was already restrained, bruised, beaten, and gagged. Ji-ho turned toward him as the agents charged forward. In the final second before he was tackled, Ji-ho whispered, "I'm sorry… we tried."
They were dragged like criminals through the streets. No trial. No defense. Just accusations and fear.
---
Inside the Devil's Association black site, Ji-ho sat tied to a reinforced chair—scratched metal walls surrounding him, his body covered in injuries from "interrogation."
Across the table sat the President of the Devil's Association. His presence was like poison in the room—elegant, composed, and radiating a cold cruelty.
"You should've known better," the President said calmly, sipping tea. "This society isn't ruled by truth. It's ruled by power. And I have all of it."
Ji-ho glared at him. "You sent those ten bastards to that clinic."
A soft smile. "Indeed."
"You killed innocent people."
"They were sacrifices. For peace. For order. For control." His smile widened. "And you… you're just a loud insect who found a shiny toy."
He pointed to Ji-ho's neck. The pendant.
"Where did you get it?"
Ji-ho looked down.
But in that moment—he saw it clearly. The pendant, glowing faintly… but only he could see it.
The President stared at the empty air. "You're playing dumb. We scanned your body, your mind, your soul—and still can't find anything."
Realization hit Ji-ho like lightning.
> "This pendant… it's invisible to everyone else. It's mine alone."
---
He was thrown back into a cell with his brother, both bloodied and bruised. Ji-ho sat silently in the dark, staring at the pendant.
His mind burned with rage.
His chest, filled with hate.
Not just toward the ten targets.
But toward a society that would rather kneel to power than stand for truth.
A society that let them be tortured for trying to help.
Outside, the world went on—festivals, politics, lives moving forward.
Inside that cell, Ji-ho made a vow.
> "If power is all this world respects…
Then I'll become the kind of power that breaks this world."
To be continued...