One day, Han Dae Su's world began to shatter.
He woke that morning to the usual sounds of the city—distant honks, muffled footsteps, and the faint hum of life outside his small apartment. But inside, a cold knot twisted in his gut. Something was wrong.
At school, the hallways buzzed with the noise of students laughing, shouting, and rushing to their classes. But Dae Su's eyes kept drifting to the group he dreaded most—the ten bullies who ruled the school with iron fists. Min Seok, Park Jae Hyun, Do Jin, and the others stood by the lockers, eyes sharp and waiting.
As Dae Su passed, Min Seok stepped forward and shoved him hard against the cold metal lockers. The echo of the impact bounced down the corridor.
"This is the day you pay," Min Seok whispered venomously.
Before Dae Su could react, Park Jae Hyun flicked open a small, sharp knife. Without hesitation, he dragged it across his palm, slicing skin and drawing blood.
"Remember this," Jae Hyun said with a cruel grin, holding his bleeding hand up for all to see. "This is your end."
Panic surged through Dae Su. He tried to back away, but the other bullies closed in, trapping him.
Suddenly, a voice cut through the tension.
"What's going on here?" Their teacher, a man in his late forties with tired eyes, approached. His gaze shifted quickly between Dae Su and the bullies.
Min Seok wasted no time. "This kid tried to stab me," he lied smoothly, pointing accusingly. "Look at my finger."
The teacher glanced at the knife and the fresh cut, then at Dae Su's desperate face.
"No, it wasn't me!" Dae Su pleaded. "I didn't do anything!"
But the bullies exchanged knowing looks, rehearsed and ready.
"He's lying. He tried to kill me," Jae Hyun said, voice dripping with false sincerity.
The teacher frowned, uncertainty in his eyes. The other students gathered, whispering, watching. No one spoke up for Dae Su.
That day, the school's security cameras "malfunctioned." No footage recorded the incident.
The principal acted quickly, wanting to avoid scandal. The police were called. The bullies gave their stories; Dae Su's protests fell on deaf ears.
In the courtroom, the evidence was stacked against him—the cut finger, the bruises, the bullies' testimonies.
No one believed the boy's desperate cries of innocence.
Han Dae Su was sentenced to three years in prison.
The days that followed were a slow, crushing descent.
The ten bullies celebrated their victory in a dimly lit bar, their laughter echoing like thunder.
"Did you see the look on his face?" Min Seok said, clinking glasses.
"We buried him," Jae Hyun declared. "There's no coming back from this."
They drank, loud and cruel, sealing their power with each toast.
Inside the prison walls, Dae Su faced a living nightmare.
The concrete cells were cold and unforgiving.
The other inmates smelled his fear and weakness immediately.
Every day brought beatings, insults, and isolation.
Nights were the worst—silent screams in the darkness, memories stabbing sharper than any blade.
He held onto the letters his parents sent—fragile threads of hope.
But the letters stopped.
One day, his aunt came to visit.
She sat across the cold glass, eyes heavy with grief.
"Dae Su," she began, voice trembling, "your parents… they're gone."
He blinked, numb.
"How?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
"They were attacked. The families of those bullies… they made sure you'd never be free. Your parents fought back, but they didn't stand a chance."
Tears slid down her cheeks.
"It wasn't your fault, but the world… it's cruel."
The silence between them was thick and suffocating.
Dae Su's heart burned with cold fury.
Deep inside, a voice whispered in the dark.
"Mark my words... I will return."
Three years later, Han Dae Su walked out of the prison gates.
He was nineteen now.
Not broken.
Not defeated.
But a storm waiting to be unleashed.