Shin's life had completely turned upside down in just one day. Once a boy who dreamt of becoming a hero—strong, powerful, and admired—he was now barely clinging to life, his body unrecognizable even to himself.
Pain. Pain that he can't describe in words. It wasn't just pain—it was agony so deep it felt like his muscles were being torn apart from the inside. Every nerve in his body screamed, every breath felt like sandpaper down his throat. He wanted to scream. Cry. Move. and even want to Die.
But he couldn't even do that. His pressure points had been sealed. His body, once full of dreams and laughter, now lay still—broken, bleeding, forgotten.
And as the blood drained from his body, so too did his memories. His thoughts faded into nothingness. He felt the movement around him vanish— along with that , His dreams, his name, his identity... all slipped away like dust caught in the wind.
Standing there, Dok Sa didn't even dare to look at him anymore. A few hours ago, Shin had been teasing him—grinning, carefree. Now, he was just a lump of flesh barely clinging to life. He knew the rules. He couldn't disobey the sect, even if it meant leaving someone behind.
By the time the treasure extraction was complete, the team packed up and vanished, erasing all traces. Shin was left to the mercy of fate.
In the next Morning, the sun rose high, its rays burning the torn skin on Shin's body. Mosquitoes feasted freely, flies swarmed around his wounds, and the stench of rotting flesh began to spread.
It was this very smell that caught the attention of a wandering elderly couple. They looked like ordinary villagers—clad in worn, faded robes, probably in their late eighties.
The old lady wrinkled her nose and swatted at the air. "Hmph… What's that awful stench?" she muttered. "Smells like rotting meat and disappointment." She waddled over, then gasped.
"Aigoo! It's a child!" she cried, kneeling beside Shin's mangled body. "What kind of heartless demon would do this to a boy? He doesn't even have eyes left!"
"Hey, geezer!" , she barked over her shoulder. "You think this one's still breathing?"
The old man hobbled over with a wooden staff, squinting through foggy eyes. He poked Shin's forehead gently with the tip. "Still warm, hmmm" he grunted. "That's either a good sign or he's just very fresh meat."
The old lady glared at him. "What do you mean 'fresh meat,' you senile goat?!", Without hesitation, she smacked him hard across the back of his head. "Ow! You crazy old hag!", he yelped, stumbling sideways. "If you wanna beat me, at least do it with love, not with full force!"
"You were poking a half-dead child like you're checking if a fish is ripe!" she snapped. Her tone was sharp, but her eyes stayed locked on Shin's injuries, full of concern. "Besides," she added, wiping sweat from his brow, "you wouldn't know compassion if it bit you in the butt."
The old man rubbed his head, muttering under his breath. "Hmph. I've shown you plenty of compassion over the last sixty years, and what did I get? A twisted back and nagging every morning..."
"You got a wife who didn't poison your food!" she shot back.
"A blessing I question daily," he grumbled again.
But despite the bickering, the old man carefully knelt beside her, pulling out a small pouch of salve and bandages. Together, they started tending to Shin's wounds. "I'll carry him," the old man said quietly, lifting the frail body with surprising care.
The old lady sighed. "Poor thing. Let's get him to the manor. If the boy wakes up, I'll cook him something warm."
"And if he doesn't?", old man asked to tease her.
"I'll cook you instead," she said sweetly.
The old man chuckled. "Still as romantic as ever, aren't you?"
She sniffed. "Just shut up and walk straight, you walking twig."
"Anyway, he's still alive… unless some animal eats him or he keels over before getting medicine," the old man muttered, peering at the bloodied boy with a frown.
The old lady's stern expression softened into a worried gaze as she knelt beside the boy. "Don't worry, child… consider yourself lucky. Fate's still clinging to you, even if by a thread." Then, like a general barking orders on a battlefield, she snapped, "Hey, geezer! Pick him up!"
The old man blinked, recoiling. "Why me?! He's probably going to die anyway! And our house is miles away!"
"Old geezer! Did you forget you said you'd carry him?"
"Huh . . .?", But his protests were nothing in the face of her glare.
"Pick. Him. Up," she said, her voice low and ominous, "unless you want me pressing a pillow to your face tonight while you sleep."
The old man sighed in defeat and grumbled, hobbling over to lift Shin's broken body.
"Okay, okay! Why did I ever marry this witch… always threatening to kill me…" he muttered under his breath.
"I heard that, you bag of bones," she replied with a raised brow. "If you're gonna whisper death wishes, at least do it quietly. My ears still work, you know." A chill ran down the old man's spine. "Why does she hear everything…?"
The strange but kind couple disappeared into the forest—carrying with them the tattered body of a Shin.
Time passed like sand slipping through fingers. In their small, worn-down manor hidden deep in the woods, the bickering couple began to nurse Shin back to life. They fought like cats and dogs, day in and day out—but beneath the insults and threats was something deeper. Care. Love. Years of being stuck together, unwilling to admit how much they needed each other.
And for Shin… they treated him like their own son.
One month passed like that, and when shin regain his consciousness he stirred. His body twitched. His fingers curled. Slowly… agonizingly… he returned from the depths of unconsciousness.
But as soon as he awoke, a strange silence swallowed him whole. Darkness. Not the kind where you just close your eyes—but a pitch-black, suffocating void. No light. No sounds. No warmth. No colors.
There was Nothing.
His first sensation was pain—burning, blinding, unbearable. But even that paled compared to what came next.
He couldn't see nor hear and even couldn't speak. His world was gone. "No... No, this can't be happening…"
He moved his hand, clumsily patting his body. It moved. That gave him a flicker of hope.
But the more he touched, the more horrifying it became.
He felt nothing where his eyes should've been. His mouth couldn't utter a word. His ears picked up nothing—not even his own breath.
Panic exploded like a volcano inside his chest. He thrashed. Flailed. Reached for anything, any proof that he was still in the world of the living. He clawed at his face with ragged nails, scratching himself until bloody welts began to appear. But even that pain felt meaningless—small compared to the hell he was sinking into. He was falling again—mentally this time—spiraling into a darkness that wasn't just outside, but inside his very soul.
The old lady rushed into the room, horrified to find him attacking himself. "Stop it! Stop—child, stop!!" she cried, trying to grab his wrists. But he was like a mad beast, flailing wildly, lost to reason.
Just then—
"SMACK!!"
A solid thud echoed through the room and Shin collapsed instantly, unconscious again. Behind him stood a little girl, holding a wooden bat like a victorious warrior.
"Hehehe! Grandma, how was that? I knocked him out in one hit! He's sleeping now!" she said proudly, puffing up her tiny chest like she'd just slain a dragon.
The old lady stared at her, stunned… and then turned her furious glare toward the old man standing outside the room. "You damn GEEZERRRRR!!"The old man, sensing death was upon him once again, turned to flee.
"I told you not to give her that bat!", she shouted as she chased after him.
"I already told her it isn't a toy!", he yelled back, running for dear life.
And like that, once again, Shin fell into unconsciousness surrounded darkness, chaos in his mental world.