The basement was a tomb of silence. Thick concrete walls held back the world, but did little to shield Han Dae Su's mind from the chaos swirling inside him. The stale air hung heavy, mixed with the faint scent of damp stone and forgotten memories. The only light came from the pale glow of his phone, flickering intermittently on the cracked floor.
He sat cross-legged, staring at the screen, watching the lives of those who had shattered his own. Ten faces—the bullies who had betrayed him, who had stolen everything he'd ever cared about—smiled and laughed on his feed, their joy a knife twisting in his gut.
His eyes burned as he swallowed the bitter taste of helplessness. Three years in prison had hardened his body, but left his soul raw and fragile. He should have felt relief at being free, but the weight of what he'd lost pressed down like an iron shackle.
He glanced at the quiet house around him. The only family left was his aunt—half a world away in the United States, with her own life, her own new family. She had sent food, left small notes of apology, but never visited. The distance was a reminder of how completely isolated he was.
His gaze drifted to the wall beside him, the rough concrete scarred with the marks of his frustration. He flexed his fingers and lightly tapped the surface, the sound hollow in the stillness.
Then, as if the basement itself was breathing, a whisper curled into his mind.
"Remember… revenge… justice…"
The voice was faint, like a distant echo carried on a cold wind. Dae Su blinked, heart skipping. He shook his head, trying to dispel the sensation, but it lingered like smoke clinging to skin.
He pressed his palm against the wall, expecting cold stone, but a subtle warmth pulsed beneath his skin. His fingers tingled, the strange sensation crawling up his arm. A shiver raced down his spine.
"Get a grip," he muttered, voice rough, but the whisper was relentless.
"I am bound to you… betrayed… you carry my hate."
His breath hitched. Images flashed in his mind's eye—a battlefield drenched in blood, a warrior's burning eyes, a blade stained with treachery. The memories weren't his, yet they felt as real as the pain thrumming in his chest.
He staggered back, knees hitting the cold floor, clutching his chest as if trying to hold back the flood of foreign fury. The basement seemed to shrink around him, shadows twisting and crawling like living things.
Dae Su's phone buzzed again—another notification from one of the bullies. The careless laughter, the triumphant smiles—it all mocked him, but now something inside him shifted. The rage no longer felt hollow. It felt like fuel, a dark fire awakening in the depths of his soul.
Night came, but sleep was no refuge. When his eyes closed, the whispers grew louder. In his dreams, he stood on a desolate battlefield, surrounded by the fallen. A figure appeared—a towering warrior with eyes blazing like molten fire.
"I am Drenval," the voice thundered, "Betrayed by traitors, left to rot in darkness. Your pain is mine. Your vengeance will be my redemption."
Dae Su gasped awake, sweat slick against his skin. The basement was too quiet now, the shadows pressing in closer than before. His fists clenched uncontrollably, nails biting into his palms.
He looked down and saw a faint glow pulsing beneath his skin—a flicker of something ancient, something waiting.
Outside, the world was oblivious. The bullies celebrated their freedom, their triumphs broadcast for all to see, careless and loud. Their laughter floated through the vents into his prison, a cruel reminder of how far he had fallen.
But deep inside the dark basement, a bond was forming—one forged from centuries-old hatred and a thirst for justice.
Drenval was awakening.
And Han Dae Su was no longer alone.