The night was cold.The rain that once fell softly now felt like knives cutting through the silence of the empty street.
Han Dae-Sung stood motionless, staring at the lifeless bodies of his parents lying on the soaked ground. The police sirens echoed far away, but no one came close.No neighbor opened their door.No one dared to call the police while the fight happened.
All they did was hide behind their walls, lock their doors, and pretend they didn't hear the screams.
The world was cruel.For him, it had always been.
When the police finally arrived, they didn't even look shocked.They just took his parents' bodies away as if they were some useless evidence to be cleared before dawn.
A few hours later, the official report came out.A pre-released note from the officers stated —
"Two police officers died in an accidental clash with gang members. Case closed."
No names.No honor.No justice.
The news even hinted that his parents had "connections" with the mafia — a lie fed by those who didn't want the truth to breathe.Orders came from higher officials. The case was shut down within a day.
Dae-Sung sat in silence, staring at the empty house where laughter once lived.He was only seven.Yet he understood the meaning of betrayal more than anyone else.
The neighbors never came.The relatives never called.No one even knocked to console the crying boy inside that broken home.
For two long days, he lived only on the water from the kitchen tap.The house smelled of rain and silence. The air was heavy, cold, and hollow — like the world had erased him completely.
He stared at the family photo hanging crooked on the wall — his father's proud smile, his mother's gentle eyes, and his small face frozen in innocent joy.That was the last time they were together.
As thunder cracked the sky outside, Dae-Sung walked to the kitchen drawer and pulled out a small knife.His hands trembled, but his eyes didn't.
He placed the family photo on the table.He whispered through the tears, his voice cold and broken —
"I'll never forgive them.Every single one of them will pay.This pain will never fade… not until I burn their world down."
He pressed the knife against his left palm, slicing it slowly, letting the blood drip onto the photo.It burned, but he didn't stop.He wanted to remember this pain — the same pain his parents felt when they died fighting alone.
The rain outside grew heavier.The thunder roared, almost as if the heavens themselves were mourning with him.
The boy who once dreamed of a happy life now stood in the middle of a silent storm — his heart replaced by vengeance, his innocence buried with his parents.
That night, Han Dae-Sung made a vow that would echo through generations.A vow written not in words, but in blood.
"If this world won't deliver justice… then I will become the justice it fears."
And with that, the child who lost everything was gone.Only the shadow remained — a promise, a curse, and a destiny waiting to awaken.
The rain didn't stop that night.It kept falling — just like his tears,marking the birth of the man who would one day be knownas the Crimson Ghost of Seoul.