In a small town somewhere in Kazakhstan...
A child was born.
A boy who, from the very first day of his life...
was different.
He was born thin.
Physically weak.
Without a single visible talent.
His appearance alone was enough to make people uncomfortable.
Black hair.
Crimson-red eyes.
Sharp fangs that resembled those of a vampire.
And beneath the left side of his lower lip...
a small black mole.
In Kazakhstan...
a child with such an appearance was considered strange.
Even frightening.
As the years passed...
the other children never accepted him as one of their own.
Whenever they played heroes and villains...
there was only one role they ever gave him.
The monster.
The villain.
The enemy everyone had to defeat.
The other children formed teams of "heroes."
Laughing...
they picked up stones from the ground.
— Defeat the monster!
— Don't let him escape!
Small rocks flew through the air one after another.
One struck the boy's shoulder.
Another hit his forehead.
A third cut his cheek.
Blood slowly trickled down his face.
The children only laughed louder.
— We defeated the monster!
— The monster is dead!
They celebrated...
as though hurting him were part of the game.
The weak boy never resisted.
He never shouted.
Never cried.
He simply stood there...
allowing the stones to hit him.
To those children...
he wasn't another child.
He wasn't even a person.
He was merely...
a monster they could hurt without feeling guilty.Frail little boy's parents knew that he came home injured and humiliated almost every single day.
Believing it was the only way to protect him, they rarely allowed him to go outside.
But...
One day, the frail little boy could no longer endure it.
He wanted to play outside like everyone else.
He wanted friends.
Holding onto that tiny hope...
he quietly left the house.
However...
Reality showed him no mercy once again.
The moment the other children noticed him, their expressions darkened.
— Don't play with us!
— Get lost!
— There's no place for you here!
One of them shoved him away.
Another picked up a stone to threaten him.
The frail boy said nothing.
He simply lowered his head...
and walked back home.
...
He quietly opened the front door.
— I'm home...
No one answered.
The house was unnaturally silent.
After taking only a few steps...
his foot touched something.
He looked down.
The floor...
was stained with blood.
Dark red blood.
His breathing became shallow.
His small body trembled as he slowly raised his head.
Standing in the middle of the room...
was his father.
Blood dripped from his hand.
And the look in his eyes...
was colder and more terrifying than anything the boy had ever seen.
His entire body froze.
His voice trembled slightly as he spoke.
— F... Father...
— W-What... did you do...?
Rasul looked at him without the slightest emotion.
His voice was as cold as ice.
— Yes.
— I killed her.
Silence filled the room.
Then Rasul continued.
— I never liked the way she acted like some kind of heroine.
— Protect the weak...
— Justice...
— Kindness...
— She was always preaching those worthless ideals.
A faint, mocking smile appeared on his face.
— In the end...
— She received exactly what she deserved.
The frail boy remained standing in place.
He didn't know what to say.
He didn't know what to do.
Fear silently consumed him.
Rasul...
Rasul Duisenuly.
Forty-two years old.
Even as he watched his own son's world collapse before his eyes...
the cold expression on his face never changed.
— I have hated people like her my entire life.
— People who dedicate themselves to protecting those meaningless ideals...
— I will never tolerate them.
Rasul stood in silence for a while.
The only thing filling the house was the metallic scent of blood.
After several long moments, he finally spoke again.
— Come.
— I need you.
He slowly walked toward the frail boy.
— Sometimes...
— I think I raised you for this very moment.
Rasul opened a small black metal case resting on the table.
Inside...
A large syringe filled with a glowing crimson serum lay quietly.
He carefully picked it up.
— This...
— Is my newest creation.
— A serum capable of granting overwhelming power.
His expression never changed.
Cold.
Emotionless.
— You'll be the first one to receive it.
— If the experiment succeeds...
— Then I'll use it on myself.
The frail boy's face instantly turned pale.
He instinctively took several steps back.
— No...
— No...
— No!
His trembling voice echoed through the room.
— Father...
— You...
— You loved Mother...
— We...
— We were a happy family...
— This... this can't be happening...
A cold smile slowly appeared on Rasul's face.
— Family...?
He let out a quiet scoff.
— Yeah...
— Maybe...
— Once upon a time.
He slowly rotated the syringe between his fingers while staring at the crimson liquid inside.
— But now...
— That meaning died a long time ago.
His eyes met the boy's.
— Right now...
— You're nothing more than my laboratory experiment.
The frail boy slowly shook his head.
There were no tears in his eyes.
Only a heart that felt as though it had already shattered.
His voice became even quieter.
— No...
— I don't want this...
— Please...
— Father...
Rasul's expression instantly turned ice-cold.
— Then...
The next moment...
His furious roar shook the entire house.
— GET OUT!!!
He violently grabbed the boy by the wrist.
His grip was so powerful that the boy's face twisted in pain.
Without showing even the slightest mercy...
Rasul dragged him toward the entrance...
And threw him outside.
Bang!
The door slammed shut in front of him.
Silence returned to the house.
Outside...
The frail boy remained sitting on the cold ground.
Motionless.
Not because he couldn't move...
But because he couldn't understand...
How his own father...
Had become someone he no longer recognized.