Chapter 22: The Fire Beneath the Mask
The cell was cold.
The iron bars stood as silent witnesses to Ji-ho's suffering. Blood stained his tattered clothes. His wrists were bruised and swollen, locked in suppression cuffs that weakened even the most dangerous awakeneds. Kim Ye-jun, just sixteen, sat in the adjacent cell—silent, pale, broken.
A week had passed since the world turned its back on them.
The footage exposing the fourth target's human experiments was now nothing but a buried truth. The Devil's Association had labeled it a manipulated illusion, and the public had nodded like mindless puppets.
Ji-ho chuckled—low, bitter, hollow.
So that's the power of society, he thought.
He remembered the words of a woman he'd saved from one of the fourth target's labs. She was forced to undergo mutation experiments for energy extraction.
> "You two… you're the only ones who tried to help. But no one will support you. Society only bows to power."
She was right.
After they presented the truth, civilians showed sorrow. Regret. They whispered apologies in alleyways. But when the Association declared them criminals, those same people—neighbors, classmates, teachers—turned their backs.
A child had thrown a rock at Ye-jun when they tried to escape the crowd.
> "You traitors! You tried to ruin our peace!"
Peace? It wasn't peace. It was fear dressed in silence.
The guards entered, dragging Ji-ho by the hair. They cuffed his arms behind his back and threw him onto a chair. Across the table sat a man with a face as calm as a still ocean. White hair, golden eyes, and a symbol of the Devil's Association on his chest.
The President.
"You've caused enough trouble for a pendant," the man said, his voice like poisoned silk. "Tell me where it is."
Ji-ho spat blood. "Even if I did… you couldn't touch it."
The President smiled. "Then let me show you how we deal with heroes."
He raised a gloved hand.
Searing pain shot through Ji-ho's body as electric needles drilled into his nerves. It was as if a million knives danced beneath his skin. But no scream came. Ji-ho clenched his teeth so hard blood leaked from his gums.
The President narrowed his eyes. "Still so proud? Even when the society you tried to protect treats you like dirt?"
Ji-ho whispered, "…it's not pride. It's truth."
The President stood. "Then you'll die with it."
But at that moment—just before darkness swallowed him—Ji-ho saw it again. That pendant glowing faintly on his chest. No one else saw it. Not the guards. Not the President.
Only him.
A secret tied to the beginning of everything.
And as they dragged him back to his cell, bruised and half-dead, Ye-jun rushed forward, screaming through the bars.
"Ji-ho! Hyung! Say something!"
He opened his cracked lips. "Don't… ever forgive them."
And Ye-jun nodded, tears burning in his eyes. From that moment, two things were born in their hearts:
A hatred toward a world that worshipped power.
And a fire to tear it down.
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