The dim candlelight flickered against the walls of the grand study, casting long, distorted shadows. The heavy scent of aged wood and ink lingered in the air, but Jin's father paid no attention to it. His fingers traced the edges of an old photograph resting on the polished oak table before him.
A woman with soft, loving eyes. A boy and a girl standing beside her, their innocent smiles forever frozen in time.
Eva.
Suho.
Lilian.
A name he hadn't heard in years slipped from his lips, barely above a whisper.
"Eva… please forgive me."
The words felt hollow even to him. His grip on the photo tightened.
A sudden knock on the door broke his trance. He didn't look up.
"Sir Han Jin Hyuk ," a servant stepped in, his tone hesitant. "The casualty report is ready. You're needed in the war room."
He gave a slow nod, but his gaze never left the photo.
The servant hesitated before bowing and retreating. The door clicked shut, leaving the room in silence once more.
But his mind was no longer in the present.
It had already been dragged back—back to the past he had buried beneath years of blood and regret.
And he let it take him.
Years Ago – The Love That Should Have Been Eternal
Han Jin Hyuk was once a man filled with dreams. A warrior, yes—but more than that, he had been a man who wished for peace, for love, for a future free of war.
And he had found that future in Eva.
She had been a force of nature, a woman who burned like a wildfire, who defied expectations and refused to bow to fate. He had fallen in love with her in the middle of a war, not because she was beautiful, but because she had never feared him.
They fought side by side, through fire and ruin, and when the war ended, they chose a different battle—the battle to build a family.
Han Suho was born first. Their son, their pride.
Then came Lilian, their daughter, their joy.
They had carved out a life, far from war and bloodshed. Their days were filled with laughter, warmth, and the quiet happiness of a world untouched by the horrors of their past.
For years, he had believed it would last.
But fate had always been cruel to dreamers.
It wasn't power that drove him away. It wasn't ambition.
It was something far worse.
It was truth.
The day he learned what they really were.
His family—they were never supposed to exist.
Suho. He should have never been born.
Not because of bloodlines, not because of power, but because the moment he entered this world, they disrupted something greater than any god, any fate, any prophecy.
And the world had a way of erasing anomalies.
He had seen the signs. The shadows lurking just beyond their peaceful village. The whispers that spoke of a correction—a force that would come and erase the mistake of their existence.
It wasn't an enemy he could fight. It wasn't something he could protect them from.
And so, he made the choice.
He left.
Not because he wanted to.
But because he knew—if he stayed, he would all die and afterall he is the father of him. So he would definitely make a way to protect his child.
He abandoned them, knowing Eva would hate him.
He vanished, knowing Suho and Lilian would grow up cursing his name.
He chose to become a monster so that they could live.
Even if they never understood.
Even if they never forgave him.
And now, as he sat in the silence of his study, staring at the family he lost, he realized something.
He had sacrificed everything.
And yet, fate had taken them anyway.
Few moments later, Jin gasped as he found himself floating in a void of endless water, the surface rippling beneath him.
Cold.
Darkness surrounded him like an abyss without end. He called out, his voice swallowed by the void.
Then, suddenly—light.
It bloomed like a sun, washing away the shadows, pulling him in.
And when the darkness disappeared, he saw it.
His village.
Untouched. Beautiful.
The scent of fresh earth and blooming flowers filled the air. The sun cast a golden glow over the rooftops. People walked through the stone streets, laughing, living.
Jin's breath hitched.
This was his home.
He turned, and his heart nearly stopped.
Two children played nearby, running through the open fields, their laughter carried by the wind. A boy with wild black hair. A girl with golden locks.
Jin's eyes widened.
Suho. Lilian.
No… not Suho.
Himself.
He was staring at his own past self.
His lips trembled. His hands reached forward—but they passed through the air, like a ghost.
Then, he saw her.
His mother.
Eva stood nearby, watching them with soft eyes, the sunlight catching in her auburn hair. Her presence was like warmth itself, a gentle fire that melted away every shadow.
Jin felt his chest tighten. His throat burned.
"Mom…"
Tears streamed down his face as he took a step forward, wanting nothing more than to embrace her.
But he couldn't.
He was nothing more than an observer. A phantom trapped in the past.
Then, his past self turned to her.
"Mother, when will father come back?"
Eva's smile faltered.
And then, she spoke the words that shattered him.
"One day, Suho… when the time is right, you will understand."
Jin clenched his fists, trembling.
Understand?
He had never understood.
He had never forgiven.
He closed his eyes, a bitter smile on his lips. Even in this illusion, his mother still believed in his father.
Then, suddenly—
A scream tore through the peace.
Jin's eyes snapped open.
Flames consumed the village.
Bodies littered the streets.
Blood soaked the ground.
He turned, his breath caught in his throat as he saw his mother—his moother —on her knees, surrounded by figures in black.
They cut her down.
His past self screamed. Lilian cried.
They were captured.
Dragged into the depths of hell.
And Jin could only watch.
He saw his younger self in the lab, screaming as they experimented on him. Torturing him. Breaking him and as a result his hair turned red and his eyes turned yellow.
And when they found no use for him—
They discarded him like trash.
Alone. Dying.
Until they found him.
The couple who picked up his broken body. The ones who gave him a new name.
Jin Shang.
The illusion shattered.
Jin's eyes flew open as he gasped for air, his body drenched in sweat.
He was in his room.
Reality slammed into him like a tidal wave.
His past—his real past—wasn't just a nightmare.
It was the truth.