That night… there were no screams.
No beatings.
No keys screaming in their locks.
There was only… silence.
A strange silence—not heavy as usual, but as if the darkness had settled, watching something without interfering.
Jang Hoon finally slept.
But his sleep was not rest.
---
In the dream, there was light.
Soft sunlight spilling over a small courtyard.
A modest garden, dirt clinging to bare feet, and quiet laughter floating through the air.
A father laughed as he spun a small child in his arms, a mother scolded her eldest for tearing his robe during training.
A brother complained, a sister laughed, and the youngest tried to walk… and fell.
Jang Hoon was there. Watching. Not as a memory, but as if he were living it.
That day… was the last they spent together.
---
Then, as if the scene cracked, everything fell into darkness.
The ground was no longer a garden… but a stone courtyard.
The laughter faded… replaced by the echo of heavy steps and the sound of swords being drawn.
A scream. Then another.
The father's face looked at him—not with fear, but with unbearable regret.
> "Forgive me, my son… I couldn't protect you."
Then the light burned away.
Everyone in the scene vanished—not by fire, but as if their existence dissolved the moment the swords were raised.
Jang Hoon wanted to scream, to run, to change the end.
But he couldn't move. He couldn't act.
---
He woke up.
Breath short. Body soaked in sweat.
A single tear rolled slowly down his cheek without him noticing.
It wasn't a tear of pain.
But a reminder… that something inside him was still alive.
> "Why… was I the only one who survived?"
It wasn't comfort. It wasn't an answer.
It was just the question… keeping him from falling completely.
He leaned against the wall, his breathing still uneven, drops of sweat trailing down his face.
He raised his hand to his cheek, where the tear had passed. He touched its trace with his thumb, then looked at his palm.
"I'm still here… because something isn't finished yet."
He whispered it like remembering a long-forgotten promise.
And in that moment… it was as if the cell itself was listening.
---
A scream. Then another.
From the same place… the same child.
> "No! Don't hurt him again! I said he's sick!"
The voice was fragile… but not broken.
Jang Hoon didn't move.
But something inside him had changed.
He turned his head slowly toward the sound, his gaze narrowing, as if something inside him stirred.
It wasn't anger.
It wasn't pity.
It was clarity.
---
He looked at his hands. They didn't burn. They didn't glow. They didn't move.
But they pulsed.
And that was enough.
He rose slowly, leaning on the wall, as if his weight was no longer just flesh and bone… but something older, just born.
---
He heard the footsteps.
Chains rattling. Harsh laughter.
Then a body hitting stone.
> "Didn't we tell you to stay quiet? Ha! Let's try again. If he dies… so be it."
The younger boy whispered, clinging to his brother:
"No… please…"
Jang Hoon opened his mouth.
He hadn't planned what to say.
But he said it:
"Leave him alone."
The words were soft… but not weak.
Everything went quiet.
The footsteps stopped. Even the breathing pulled back.
One of the guards laughed:
"Huh? Who dared say that?"
Then shouted:
"You! You filthy rat! Did you think you could—"
And stopped suddenly.
The guard closest to the cell froze in place.
He stared into the darkness, his brows twitching.
"What… is this? Do you feel it?"
"Feel what? What's wrong with you?"
"The air… it changed."
---
Inside, Jang Hoon hadn't moved.
But he was alert—not in body, but in something deeper.
His gaze steady, but inside him… the pulse was growing.
A light chill, slight numbness in his fingertips.
It wasn't an attack. It wasn't a technique.
It was something that had no name yet.
---
Outside, the guard stepped back.
> "This… isn't normal. I—I don't want to go into that cell."
The other laughed:
"Coward! He's just a cripple with broken meridians—"
Then fell silent.
His eyes widened, as if something brushed past his heart without touching it.
"It's like the darkness… is watching us from in there."
---
Inside, Jang Hoon closed his eyes.
He breathed.
And within him was a pulse, not exploding, but expanding in stillness.
He didn't understand it, but he knew… he was not alone.
In the cell, in that exact moment, in the deep shade of an unnamed void, something opened.
A breath not heard.
A voice not spoken.
But it was there.
The mysterious being… was watching him.
Not to guide him, but as if observing… the bloom of a flower born from death.