(continuation)
Night wrapped the house in silence.
The man knelt beside Zaren and gently placed a small food pack into his hands. His movements were careful, almost hesitant.
"Eat," he said softly. "Even a little."
Zaren didn't respond. His fingers didn't move.
The man's phone vibrated.
He glanced at the screen.
Rai, come fast. The meeting is about to start.
For a moment, he said nothing.
"…I have to go."
He stood, then looked down at Zaren one last time. The child didn't meet his eyes.
The man turned toward the door.
Paused.
Just for half a second.
"Live," he said quietly.
Then he was gone.
The night swallowed him whole.
Zaren remained in the house alone.
Darkness filled the room. The air felt heavy—thick with something that wouldn't fade. Zaren sat beside his mother's body. She didn't move.
There was no sound.
Tears slipped down his face without a sob, without a sound.
Time stretched.
The night passed slowly, painfully.
"…Why…?"
The whisper barely existed.
"…Why…?"
Again.
"…Why…?"
The same word, over and over, as if repeating it might make the world answer.
Morning came.
Pale dawn light crept through the windows, touching the walls, the floor—her face.
Nothing had changed.
Outside, hurried footsteps broke the stillness.
A young woman ran toward the house, breath uneven, fear written clearly across her face.
Maki reached the doorway.
She saw the room.
And froze.
"…No… no…"
Her knees buckled as the sound finally broke free.
Her breath caught.
Maki's eyes widened as she noticed it—movement.
Zaren was alive.
She rushed to him and dropped to her knees, hands trembling as she reached out.
"Zaren…?" she whispered.
No response.
Zaren stared straight ahead. His eyes were open, but there was nothing in them. No fear. No tears. No recognition.
Just emptiness.
Maki pulled him into her arms, holding him tightly, as if letting go might make him disappear too.
"I'm here," she said softly, desperately.
"I'm here now."
Zaren didn't react.
Time passed.
Three days later.
The room was quiet.
Zaren sat by the window, unmoving, staring at the light outside as if it belonged to a different world. Maki placed a plate of food beside him and stepped back.
She hesitated, then spoke gently.
"You don't have to talk," she said.
"Just… stay."
Silence answered her.
Then—barely—
Zaren's lips moved.
The sound was so small it almost didn't exist.
"…They'll pay."
.
Maki froze.
Zaren's voice was still quiet—but this time, it was clear.
"The one who killed them…"
A pause. Not hesitation. Just thought.
"I'll kill him."
Maki grabbed his shoulders, gripping him tightly as emotion broke through her restraint.
"No," she said firmly. "Don't say that."
Zaren looked up at her.
There was no anger in his eyes.
No rage.
Just emptiness.
Time moved forward.
Zaren trained.
Not in grand halls. Not under masters.
Just simple, human effort.
Push-ups until his arms gave out.
Running alone through empty streets.
Falling.
Standing back up.
At school, he got into fights.
Not to dominate.
Not to impress.
Only when pushed.
Only when cornered.
At night, he sat alone in his room, books spread open across the floor.
Muscles.
Joints.
Nerve systems.
He studied the body like a machine—how it moved, how it failed.
His eyes stayed focused.
Five years passed.
Zaren stood alone under the night sky, fists clenched at his sides.
He didn't cry anymore.
He didn't scream.
He prepared.