On the side of a somewhat secluded mountain road, there lies a faint footpath — barely visible, perhaps from years of neglect, or maybe because it had simply been forgotten.
If one were to follow that path on foot for about fifteen minutes, they would reach an open, sloping area scattered with rocks. It ends at a steep cliff, and beyond that cliff stretches a rocky seashore.
It was, without doubt, a dangerous place.
And yet… at night, it turned breathtakingly beautiful.
Let us not even mention the clear sky, the refreshing cold breeze, or the proud moon shining brightly in the middle of the heavens. Let us simply focus on the serenity — the peaceful stillness that enveloped the place. Though it was deserted by humans, there were no predators nearby either, for the rocky terrain offered little food. In the end, this was a quiet, tranquil spot.
Well… it would have been — if not for the corpse in the sea, wedged between the rocks.
On one of the large boulders — the one highest above the waves, where seawater could never reach — a faint red stain could be seen. Paint, perhaps? Unlikely. How could paint reach such a place? No, it was the blood of that same corpse floating in the water below…
There, along the rocky shore, the body was toyed with by the restless waves — carried away by the tide, then slammed against a rock from behind, only to be pulled back and struck again. This grim dance had continued for several days.
The corpse was deathly pale, its skin ghostly white, and its features drained of all color. Some parts had already been nibbled away by small fish. Fortunately — or perhaps unfortunately — the body had become lodged between two rocks, preventing it from drifting away into the open sea. Because of that, larger fish had been unable to reach it, preserving it mostly intact despite its decay.
Still, the extreme pallor suggested it had been dead for quite some time — days, maybe even weeks. The body continued its silent dance upon the sea's rhythm for who knows how long… until, suddenly, something impossible happened.
The corpse — that should have been dead — opened its right eye.
Its eyeball popped out of the socket, floated into the air, and hovered there, staring back at the body itself.
It didn't last long. A whirlwind began to form around the floating eye — pulling in seaweed, shells, dead fish, even bits of algae — all swirling in a furious vortex. The storm drifted toward a small cave hidden at the base of the cliff, barely visible from afar, and vanished inside.
Then, suddenly — an eerie green light illuminated the cave. A freezing chill spread from within, and in the heart of the storm a shape began to take form: a tall, thin figure, its body covered in scars. Its face had no features — only a gaping slit filled with razor-sharp teeth. A long, tattered white cloak hung over it, concealing most of its form, and on its hands were eyes — eyes embedded in its palms.
Drool trickled from its mouth as it reached toward the floating eye.
A voice, harsh and grating like glass being scraped, whispered:
"This… this power is what I've been searching for."
The moment the creature's hand touched the eye, it was instantly sucked inside, vanishing before it could even react.
The storm fell silent.
The eye remained suspended in the air for a few moments, then released a violent burst of wind and a deafening explosion. The air itself grew heavy with an ominous pressure.
Not long after, the previously clear sky darkened. Winds howled, black clouds gathered, thunder roared, and the waves turned wild and furious. The earth trembled beneath the chaos. From the eye's pupil burst a beam of white light, filling the entire cave — while outside, the world itself seemed to rage in defiance.
Lightning struck endlessly, volcanoes erupted across distant lands, earthquakes tore cities apart, and tsunamis rose higher than warships. It was as if the planet itself was fighting against something — or someone.
For five days and nights, the world knew no peace.
Unrelenting tremors, erupting volcanoes, thunder that refused to fade…
And amidst the ruins — for the cliff and the surrounding land had long since collapsed — a golden cocoon hung proudly in the air.
Then, at last, it began to crack.
As the shell split, the world's fury intensified. Earthquakes powerful enough to destroy entire cities shook the land. Waves capable of swallowing fleets crashed upon distant shores. The blue lightning turned violet, painting the skies with a color never seen before.
It was as if the world itself had entered a new era — one that had never been witnessed in all of history.
Faced with the unknown catastrophe, every nation declared a state of absolute emergency, urging their people to take shelter in the deepest, most secure bunkers available.
One month before the catastrophe began—
In the hush of night a black G-Class tore along the lonely mountain road. The driver rushed forward until, without warning, he slammed the brakes so hard the vehicle stopped to a halt. Two men climbed out. One wore a mask and sunglasses and was slightly short; the other was dressed plainly, of average height.
"This is the place to carry out our job," the masked man said.
The other man nodded. "All right, Boss."
The unmasked man moved to the trunk and popped it open. Inside lay a youth, his face bound with a coarse cloth. Even through the wrappings it was clear he was riddled with cuts and clotted blood—their dried patterns clinging his clothes to his skin. The sight did not disgust the man; on the contrary, he smiled with a strange pride, like an artist admiring his work. He slipped an arm beneath the boy's limp body, hauled him up, and slung him over his shoulders.
The boy gave no resistance. He didn't move—perhaps unconscious, perhaps already dead.
The man closed the trunk and turned toward his companion, glancing around as he shifted the weight of the body. "Are you sure this place is really suitable?" he asked, caution in his voice. "Aren't you afraid someone will find the body? I mean, although it's secluded, people sometimes come out here to drink and enjoy nature—"
The boss rolled his head in the other man's direction. "I'm not stupid enough to dispose of it here," he said.
The boss raised a hand and pointed toward a narrow track that was easy to miss at first glance. "We'll go that way. At the end there's a high rocky cliff overlooking the sea."
His companion grinned. "You're a genius, boss. No one would ever find this place if it weren't for you. The young master will prefer you—if it were me, I'd never discover this spot."
The boss offered no reply. He began walking down the track. What the other man did not notice was that the boss fists tightened until his knuckles went white. He muttered under his breath, barely audible: "Hold on a little longer."
The other man followed him along the narrow path. They reached the cliff and the plain view of the ocean. The unmasked man's voice brightened with satisfaction. "Perfect spot, boss. This is ideal for getting rid of a body. By the time anyone notices he's gone, the fish will have had their fill."
Silence hung in the air. The boss stared at him without speaking. The other man, nudging his shoulder, said, "That is—if anyone even notices his disappearance to begin with, right, boss?" He laughed loudly, rapping the masked man's shoulder.
The man did not answer at once. He simply clenched his hands tighter and whispered, low and cold: "Does he look down on us?"
"Huh?" The other man wrinkled his brow. "I didn't hear—what did you say?"
"If you have time for chatter, better to finish the job," the boss said, voice flat.
The unmasked man waved him off. "Relax I've already done the hard part." He dumped the youth's body onto the ground with a heavy thud, then kicked the corpse hard in the face. The corpse slid, teetered at the cliff's edge, then half-hung over the void.
"Do you want me to finish it?" the man asked, eager.
The man didn't answer. He stepped forward and watched. From his corner he could see the body's chest rise and fall faintly. He thought to himself: He's alive.
As he reached out to lift the cloth and reveal the face, he ground his teeth and swore under his breath. Then he jumped to the side—and in the same instant a shot cracked through the night. The bullet slammed into the spot where the boss had stood.
The boss spun his head toward his partner. The other man held a pistol aimed squarely at him. The masked man said nothing, but his body betrayed tension—he ground his teeth so hard they clicked.
The shooter smiled, a grim twist. "I admit your disguise skills are impressive. Had the young master not told me, I would never have known you weren't the real boss."
"the young master?" The masked man's voice was sharp with surprise. "The young master? How did he—this information is supposed to be secret, only known to the police high command."
The shooter shrugged and laughed sardonically. "If it were just me, I wouldn't know. But for Mr. Lin, it's like drinking water."
The man breath hitched. "Mr. Lin?" he said, stunned. "You mean the Lin family from Kyushu?"
The shooter's mouth curled with a hint of contempt. "Ah. So you know the Lin's, too. Not surprising—they're a big family, and they pay well."
He stared down at the young man's body, then added, lowering his voice: "I can't say more. Saying too much might anger Mr. Lin."
The man looked... strange. He stood there, silent, while thoughts churned behind his mask.
Lin? My family? Who could that be? he wondered. In his mind a face flashed — a young man with glossy blond hair and clear green eyes, every feature matching the Lin family's handsome lineage. Anger tightened the man jaw. Of course he's Aether, the thought came with a bitter edge. He's that biological bastard my parents brought home from the hospital after sixteen years. I never expected he'd cooperate with people like this. My brother Van was right — his disappearance was staged to unsettle us.
The truth, as the man remembered it, was ugly and recent. Aether and Van had both vanished three months ago. The kidnappers had contacted the Lin family and demanded five hundred million dollars for each captive. The sum was astronomical, but the Lin's clenched their teeth and paid to get Van back. When Van had been returned he bore bruises and a broken left arm — and, strangely, he claimed Aether had set it up. Van said Aether had colluded with the kidnappers for money and to vent his anger over Van taking his place as Young Master. No one in the Lin household believed it. Still, after the ransom was paid the kidnappers cut contact. People assumed Aether had run off with the money. The family cursed him; they spat his name. Even Lin Shiro could not bring herself to accept it — there was no proof of such betrayal — but the kidnapper's words had poisoned her. She could only grit her teeth and say through clenched teeth, voice full of fury, "Is the Young Master's full name Lin Aether?"
The shooter laughed, a hard, ugly sound that filled the night. "Hahaha — you're hilarious. I thought you knew the Lin's well, but apparently you don't know anything."
The man, flustered, managed, "What do you mean?"
What does he mean I don't know my own family? shiro thought, dizzy with a rising unease. Is there something I don't know?
The shooter leveled the pistol and gestured with it toward shiro. "I'm not supposed to discuss mission details with others," he said. "But you're going to die anyway, so I don't mind telling you something. Even if you know it, it won't help you." He fished a cigarette from his pocket, set it to his lips with one hand, and lit it. After a few puffs he continued, voice roughened by smoke: "I've spent more than forty years in this line of work."
He paused, looking at the man, drawing another long drag. "Murder, kidnapping, disposing of bodies — you name it. There's hardly a case I haven't seen. I've watched every dark side of humanity: selfishness, loss of dignity, blind panic. But you know what's funny?"
shiro fell silent, and the shooter exhaled a thin stream of smoke. shiro thought, I could learn more about his crimes — pin him down for everything. He had to keep calm.
"Three months ago," the shooter went on slowly, "I got the strangest job of my life."
The man interrupted, breath sharp: "Three months ago? Could it be—"
The shooter cut him off with a mocking smile. "Yes, you heard of it. That was my first direct job with the Lin family. The assignment was simple: kidnap the Young Master of the Lin family."
shiro, furious, spat, "I knew it. That filthy bastard."
The shooter paid shiro no heed. "It was strange, truly. One of the brothers hired me to take his sibling. For two full months we tortured him with every method imaginable." then added, almost amused, "Do you know the funny part?"
shiro anger flared then, she cursed about Aether, hating him to the core, but she could not let her feelings betray her. she forced her voice steady and asked, "What's funny?"
The shooter finished his cigarette, flicked ash to the ground, and said, dryly, "He didn't recognize his brother. We had masked the brother during the torture — every time we were done, the captive would ask about the one he thought had been kidnapped with him. Isn't that ridiculous?"
shiro almost snapped. "That bastard, Van was right about everything he said! What kind of heartless monster — poor Van even in these conditions, he thinks of that scum Aether." Her words trembled with hate, but they were heard.
The shooter laughed again, cruel and bright. "Hahahaha. I don't know what your relationship with the Lin's is, but you're very mistaken. I truly pity poor Aether — even now they doubt the corpse." He leaned closer, taunting. "Even as a corpse, he's under suspicion."
shiro stunned, her voice trembling. "W-what did you say?"
Without warning the shooter fired. The bullet tore into shiro thigh and she screamed, she crumpled and writhed on the ground as the other man toyed with his gun in the air.
"You really thought I hadn't noticed the pistol tucked under your coat?" the shooter sneered while kicking shiro leg. "Did you think I was telling this story to spare you? I knew it wouldn't be easy to distract you and reveal your identity, so I spoke of things I knew would catch your attention — the Lin family, of course."
shiro fell silent as she panted, "How did you know?"
The other man laughed, reached out, and pulled the mask away. Long black hair slid free, green eyes glittered in the dark. "I knew from the first beat of your reaction when you heard the Lin name. I suspected there was a connection, but I never expected you to be the fourth lady of the Lin family and the only police commander, Lin Shiro."
Even with a bullet wound in her thigh, Shiro steeled herself against the pain. "It would be better if you surrender. I can promise you a reduced sentence," she said, voice tight but steady.
The man laughed harshly. "Hahaha—plead for me? And who says I won't kill you now and bury you with your brother?"
Shiro's face went cold as the shooter's words struck deep. She pressed her teeth together and thought: My brother is at home, my dear brother—yes, he is my only brother. The man could not contain himself; he slapped her across the face. "I truly don't understand how your family produced someone like him," he spat. "He's different—even if I don't know what he suffered with you, why you hate him—he was a decent, clever kid. He's the reason your beloved brother came back home."
A trickle of blood ran from Shiro's lip. "What do you mean by that?" she asked, voice breaking.
The man leaned in, eyes burning. "He freed himself, somehow. Got hold of a phone and contacted your family. Luckily, I reached him in time and provided a ludicrous ransom to buy us the time to move before the police could find us." Then he shook his head. "I will never forget it. Even when he knew the torture and danger awaiting him, the steadiness in his eyes never wavered. He accepted whatever would come. He was brave—shameful of me to say, since I tortured him, but he was brave."
Shiro trembled from head to toe. "You're lying to me, aren't you?"
The man sneered. "Really—every Lin is foolish. No wonder they haven't driven him out yet. Fine—this is the end." Shiro stammered incoherently, "This—this is impossible, this is impossible—"
He turned and leveled his pistol at her. "This is the end."
They didn't notice that the corpse which had lain half over the cliff edge was gone. Only the rough cloth binding remained, fluttering on the ground. As the man moved his gun to shoot at Shiro, someone lunged from behind and pushed him. The push wasn't strong, but it was enough to send the man near the edge stumbling.
When he turned to see who had pushed him, he found himself staring into faded green eyes—now dim and hollow. All he could do was smile, a bitter, broken grin. "That girl did in minutes what I couldn't do with my methods over three months," the figure murmured. He moved his lips and whispered, "We will meet again, Aether."
Then the man fell over the edge. Moments later the cliff answered with a roaring splash.
On the ground, at first no sound. Then the young man who had been on his knees began to breathe hard, his whole body shaking. Shiro stared at him, face streaked with blood and tears, and realized what the torture had done: his skin hung in flaps from his back and arms, months of rot and wounds had left him raw and half-decayed The pain of being flayed must have been sooo bad, yet his facial expression was frozen, as if for a long time. Only hot tears tracked down his face, proof that consciousness remained.
Shiro could not keep herself from feeling horror and nausea. She looked at Aether—her brother—and could not stop the tears that carved grooves down her cheeks. He knelt before her, skin peeling, worms writhing in bloody flesh; she could tell he had been that way for a long time. After a moment she gathered what little composure she could and whispered, "B—brother… I'm sorry."
She did not know why the words tumbled out, but they were all she had. She could not stop the sobbing, the ceaseless "I'm sorry" that tore from her throat as she banged her forehead to the ground again and again: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—brother, I'm sorry." Her repetition of her words could not change the past.
Aether did not answer. His tears continued to fall, soaking the earth beneath him. Then, abruptly, he rose. His body shook violently. Shiro stared at the bloody streaks on his body and the tears on his cheeks and pleaded: "Please, brother, don't move. The police will get here soon. I will get you help and we will go home together. This time I will trust you—really. I won't believe anyone else. You can tell me anything. Just—please—don't move now. Every step you take you bleed more and more and then—then—"
She scrambled toward him, desperate and frantic, but she could not crawl far; the bullet in her thigh and the psychological toll left her exhausted. Aether did not listen. He rose with unsteady, staggering steps. With every step, blood, worms, and rotting flesh tumbled from him. He was crying—actual tears—yet each step he took, which he had once taken for granted, became a towering mountain.
Nine steps. He managed nine steps away from Shiro and stopped at the cliff's edge. His voice quivered like a candle in a gust: "Nine steps… out of ten."
Though his words were faint and hard to hear, Shiro caught them clearly. A lightning strike ran through her limbs; she trembled and cried out, "Please, brother, stop! I'm sorry, I'm sorry— I was so foolish. Forgive me this once. I won't hurt you again. I will take care of you. I will avenge you. I will stand by you in everything—but please, brother, don't—"
Aether turned toward her with great effort and barely held himself upright. His voice was a mere whisper, weaker than before: "I… I was… waiting… for… my family… to come rescue me… all along… I was happy… to have Van survive… I thought… it would be my turn… after… days… but the days… became weeks… and weeks became months…"
He gasped for air, shoulders hunching forward as he fought to draw breath into his lungs. Shiro's sobs intensified; she clutched at her chest, trying to slow her breathing as she watched her brother struggle to speak.
Shiro wept harder—louder than before. Her chest rose and fell in ragged gasps as she struggled to hold her breath long enough to hear her brother's faint, broken voice. When she finally caught his words, she could feel the despair within them—so deep, so heavy, that even the fragments of hope he once clung to seemed shattered beyond repair.
She couldn't find anything to say except, "I'm sorry." Her voice trembled as she pleaded, "I'm sorry, brother… I truly am. You can take your revenge if you want—but I'm really, really sorry. Please, sit down… don't lose any more blood… please."
But Aether paid her no attention. After gathering a final, shallow breath into his lungs, he spoke between spasms of pain:
"Thank… you… Shiro… You've… opened… my eyes… today… truly… to… what the Lin… family… thinks… of me."
He paused, breathing in sharply, his chest rising and falling with effort, before continuing, voice weaker with every word.
"It hurts… hearing it… from you… directly… but thanks to you… I discovered… something…"
He stopped again, wheezing, drawing in air greedily as if each breath were his last. Shiro cried uncontrollably, words tumbling between sobs:
"I'm sorry, brother, I'm sorry… I don't want to know what you discovered… I don't want to lose you… I'm so, so, so sorry!"
Her forehead struck the dirt again and again as she begged for forgiveness, her voice cracking under the weight of guilt and grief.
Aether didn't look at her. Perhaps he couldn't. Time was slipping from him faster than his blood. When he spoke again, blood dripped from his lips and stained the ground below.
"Thanks to you, I realized… I hate my life, Shiro. Thank you… for opening my eyes to that truth. No matter what I do, I'll always be just a bastard in the eyes of the Lin family."
His breathing grew harsher, more ragged, while Shiro's sobs turned to wails. She shook her head wildly, denying his words through tears.
"I didn't open anything! I didn't! You're my brother—my only brother! Van deceived me! Forgive me, brother, please forgive me!"
Aether turned his back to her. His tone was faint, almost fading into the sea breeze.
"This was the last time your brother saves you… Sister… don't trust… others… so easily. I'll finish… the tenth step… as you wished."
And with those final words, Aether took one last step forward—and vanished over the cliff.
For a heartbeat, the world was silent. Then came the dull, distant crash of a body striking the rocks below… followed by the endless hiss of the waves swallowing everything.
Shiro froze, her mind blank, before an agonized scream tore through her throat:
"AETHERRRRRRRRRRR! NOOOOOOOOOOO!"
The echo of her voice filled the cliffside as memories assaulted her—the day of the accident, the day she humiliated him, the day everything turned black for Aether. The same words, the same scene—all of it repeating. Her body convulsed as she screamed until her throat burned raw, until something inside her seemed to tear loose.
She vomited blood—bright, glistening red. Her voice broke into hoarse gasps; she could no longer speak, her vocal cords shredded by the force of her cries.
Overwhelmed by shock, loss, and pain, Lin Shiro's body finally gave out. Her vision dimmed, the world tilted, and she collapsed where she stood—motionless—into a pool of blood and tears that mixed beneath the fading light.