Jin was sitting in a small room with walls whitened by time, illuminated by the warm light of a bedside lamp. The space exuded a familiar, almost suffocating warmth, like a cocoon filled with memories. On a worn-out armchair, his aunt—a frail-looking woman with eyes filled with unshakable determination—was sewing a torn piece of clothing. She occasionally glanced at Jin, who seemed lost in his thoughts.
— "Jin, you know why I do all this for you and your cousin, don't you?" she asked with a gentle smile.
He looked up, tearing his eyes away from the book he was pretending to read.
— "Because you're too kind?" he replied with a mischievous grin, though his tone lacked confidence.
She stopped sewing, placing the needle on the small table beside her. Her gaze grew more serious.
— "Because you are my family. Because no one else will do it for me."
She took a deep breath, and Jin sensed the conversation shifting. Despite her kindness, his aunt carried a burden that even he couldn't ignore.
— "You know, the world is cruel, Jin. What we have here is just a fragile semblance of peace. But elsewhere... things are different."
She spoke of the white meteorites, those strange phenomena rumored to transform entire regions into oases of prosperity and health. She described those distant lands as promised territories, where citizens enjoyed an unparalleled quality of life.
— "If I could one day send you and your cousin there, I would do it without hesitation. You both deserve a better life, far from this misery."
Her words resonated deeply within him. It wasn't the first time she had voiced this dream, but that night, Jin felt a strange sense of responsibility take root in his heart.
---
The flashback shifted to an earlier time, a buried memory deep within his mind. Jin was still a child, clutching the rough hand of his father, a towering man with a face hardened by battles.
— "Listen carefully, Jin," his father had said in a grave tone, placing a firm hand on his son's shoulder.
— "In this world, the powerful crush the weak. You must always be ready to fight for what matters. Always."
His father, a former government agent, had been betrayed by the very people he served. Jin remembered the night his father had come home, wounded and broken, muttering bitter words about the powerful figures manipulating everything from the shadows. A few weeks later, he had vanished without a trace.
Jin had never forgotten that lesson. His father's face haunted his dreams, a constant shadow guiding his choices, sometimes unconsciously.
---
The flashback intensified, pulling Jin into a more recent memory. His cousin, a lively teenager, sat beside him on the steps of their home, sketching imaginary landscapes in a small notebook.
— "Do you think we'll ever live somewhere else?" she asked, not lifting her eyes from her drawing.
Jin looked at her, a mix of sadness and determination in his gaze.
— "I promise you," he murmured.
She turned to him, her face lighting up with a radiant smile.
— "You always say that, but you never explain how."
Her remark stung, but he simply smiled in response. At that moment, he swore to himself that he would do whatever it took to keep that promise.
---
The flashback shifted one last time, lingering on a scene he could never forget. Jin stood in a crowded street, towering posters of Norman Riveland plastered on the walls, displaying slogans about prosperity and security.
He remembered seeing entire families being evicted from their homes, their belongings tossed into the streets by uniformed agents. Among them, he recognized an old friend of his father's, a once-respectable man reduced to begging for shelter.
— "The Rivelands," he had murmured back then, his fists clenched. "They control everything. They destroy everything."
---
The flashback faded, bringing Jin back to the rooftop bar where he watched the Maybach approach. Under his mask, he smirked coldly. All these years of anger, promises, and sacrifices converged into this very moment.
— "Tonight, everything changes," he whispered to himself.