Chapter 01 :
She was far too old for this, yet she still did it—despite everything he'd done. Her long, shiny brown hair, soft gray eyes, and the few wrinkles on her face still captured hearts. Even with the marks of age beginning to show, she remained beloved among her neighbors and renowned for her beauty. But none of that mattered to her anymore. She had made up her mind to care for her grandson until her final breath.
She chose to care for someone who had buried himself in the dust of his room, locking the door behind him for so many years that she had forgotten what he looked like. The only way she knew he was still alive… was the empty plate that returned to her every day. Other than that, she knew nothing—nothing about what he was doing behind that decaying black door.
Clink. "Ouch... I burned my hand," she muttered in surprise.
In that exact moment, she realized—there was no one left who truly cared for her anymore. No one but the men who only saw her as a pretty face. She had wasted herself chasing someone who didn't deserve her devotion.
Footsteps.
As she did every day, she placed the food in front of the door and went to her room to rest.
Creeeak.
The door opened slightly, and a hand reached out, grabbing the plate before retreating. Then the door closed again.
He looked at the food with empty eyes, dark circles surrounding them like bruises of the soul. His jet-black hair was long and messy, often falling into his face and making it hard to see. His clothes were torn and far too big for him—his grandmother never knew his exact size, so she stitched everything oversized, preferring long clothes to those that wouldn't fit at all. His room was a mess, choked with dust and disorder, as if a storm had swept through. One corner held an old desk where he once studied, and the other a simple floor mattress.
He sighed.
"Ramen again? Is that really all that old hag knows how to cook? I don't even remember who she is or why she does this, but if she's going to cook anyway, is it too much to ask for a little variety? Death would be better than this… I wish my mother had just aborted me instead of dying alone with my father..."
Suddenly, someone appeared from nowhere.
Or rather, something. Calling it a person would be far too generous.
It was more like a being that defied nature itself. It hadn't come through the door. It passed through the wall—as if to say, "There is no escape."
And yet, the creature was strange. It wore a long black coat that covered its entire body, except for its face—if it could even be called that. Its face was blurred, as if forbidden to be seen by any ordinary human. Its coat was drenched in blood, as if it had just emerged from a war.