At the tender age of seven, when most children bask in the gentle care of their mothers and find solace in the protecting embrace of their fathers, Flynn's fate took a dark and tragic turn. He was sold as a slave, a trivial transaction in which they surrendered his innocence for a trifling sum of 10 silver coins. This modest amount was barely enough to support the wretched couple who had coldheartedly sold Flynn's freedom, allowing them a week's worth of stale bread procured from the depths of the slums. Such recollections were the only remains Flynn had of his parents, and they were everything but kind or nurturing.

 

Those memories carved themselves into Flynn's mind with horrible clarity. His parents' faces, if they could even be called that, were engraved with an awful grimace. Their eyes glimmered with avarice, and their mouths contorted into an exaggerated grin that reflected the insatiable appetite of dogs expecting their next prey. It was a countenance of their actual nature, devoid of sympathy and driven purely by their selfish desires.

 

Despite this painful beginning, a glimmer of hope was on the horizon. The kingdom of Goldenleaf had chosen a progressive stance, banning the repulsive slave market and establishing strict laws to prohibit selling human lives in any form. It was a step towards justice, an opportunity for a fresh start for young souls like Flynn. Yet, the kingdom's help extended only as far as their act prohibiting slavery. Once emancipated, the former slaves were forced to navigate a world without education, employment, or assurance of their existence.

 

Many released slaves found themselves adrift in this newfound freedom, battling with the harsh realities of their circumstances. They were forced into a miserable existence without the means to earn a living. Some resorted to violence, turning to murder as a method of survival. The streets became a graveyard for many souls, captured by the cruel grasp of starvation or falling prey to the savage schemes of their fellow former slaves. The promise of liberation became a harsh irony, a cruel twist of fate that left them stuck on the edges of society, forgotten and abandoned.

 

In the dark and merciless world where the young child found himself, survival meant turning to an unfathomable act: killing his fellow slum folks for scant money. The slums he called home were miserable, mired in filth and danger. Within its narrow alleys, a brutal hierarchy prevailed, favoring the strong while mercilessly preying on the weak. To endure, he had to become one of the strong, his name flourishing through the slums as a terrible presence, his rapid and deadly strikes leaving an indelible impression.

 

But fate has a weird way of meddling. The Assassin's Hall, an institution cloaked in secrecy, took notice of the little kid's hidden potential. Embracing him into their flock, they showered upon him the needs of life: clothing, sustenance, shelter, and all that a kid needed for survival. Yet, their attention extended beyond mere provisions. Under their attentive guidance, he acquired an education that elevated him from ignorance, earning him the accolades and respect of his newfound family.

 

Amidst the murky world of assassins, this odd arrangement seemed to suit the tiny boy. His cleverness served him well, as he immediately grasped the reciprocal nature of his relationship with the Assassin's Hall. They gave him the familial relationships he craved. At the same time, he, in turn, fulfilled their needs as a devoted and capable pawn. It was a delicate dance, a give-and-take dynamic that mutually benefited both parties.

 

In this symbiotic existence, he knew his worth was assessed not by the tiny silver pennies that formerly determined his value as a slave but by the significance he held among the secret ranks of the Assassin's Hall. He understood that he would not be tossed away as long as he remained useful. The realization anchored him, providing him with a sense of purpose and stability in a world that had shown him little mercy.

 

-

 

Flynn finds himself engaged in an unexpected dilemma. As he pursued his aim of becoming an eSports legend, he recognized that he had to assume the identity of Cheol Han. This role demanded him to masquerade as a family member, friend, or even adversary, delicately repressing his inner personality to adapt to others' expectations. Forging these ties required him to resist his natural tendencies and conform to a well-prepared facade. Any deviation from this carefully built persona might evoke suspicion and impede his progress.

 

Yet Flynn well realized the gravity of his situation. Standing before Cheol's mother, he struggled to embody the love and connection she expected from her son. It was a foreign emotional environment, a feeling he had long been deprived of. He could mimic the motions and convey anything a mother would desire to hear, but deep inside, he understood that genuine filial love couldn't be recreated. It was a delicate bond formed through years of shared experiences, trust, and sincere devotion. Despite his desire to bring relief, skepticism lingered, casting uncertainty on whether his efforts would be sufficient.

 

His own heart exhibited the scars of abandonment, grieving for the absence of a loving family. The gap left by such a connection constantly reminded him of the emotional abyss that alienated him from the world. He had grown accustomed to self-reliance and navigating life's challenges and tribulations. The concept of familial love remained elusive, a nebulous notion that appeared remote and unachievable.

 

Flynn recognized that success in deceiving Cheol's mother required more than simple words and actions. The task was frightening, as it involved crossing unexplored emotional realms and exposing his vulnerabilities and worries. Nevertheless, he understood that this was something he had to do—the first step on an arduous journey ahead.

 

With unflinching determination blazing in his eyes, Flynn ultimately decided to hide his true self deep within. From that key point forth, he would lose his prior identity and embrace the character of Cheol Han—a man who had ostensibly awakened from an extended slumber with memories lost and scattered.

 

"I honestly can't remember," he remarked, his voice laced with a trace of doubt. "It's all a jumble in my head."

 

Flynn's comments hung in the air, a frail acknowledgment of his disjointed memories. He couldn't help but question the legitimacy of his remark, mindful of its weight in this delicate dialogue. His thoughts spun uncertainly, reliving his chosen words repeatedly, dissecting their usefulness in sustaining the painstakingly created facade. It was a quick and restrained remark, precisely timed to mask the depth of his inner personality.

 

His eyes reflexively averted the gentle and loving glance of a mother who believed him to be her son. The intensity of Mrs. Han's emotions weighed down on him, threatening to destroy the carefully built illusion. He knew that looking into those eyes, packed with affection and longing, could betray his identity. He was playing a perilous game, teetering on the verge of revealing himself.

 

His conscience gnawed at him, a relentless voice reminding him of the moral intricacies of his dishonesty. As his eyes fixed on the floor, the weight of his actions bore the strain of perpetuating this sophisticated farce upon him. With each passing second, his internal conflict deepened, threatening to destroy the carefully created facade he had built.

 

In that vulnerable moment, a glimpse of understanding danced in Mrs. Han's eyes—a reflection of her love and care for her son. With a worn palm, she reached up and delicately touched Flynn's face, her touch a bittersweet blend of comfort and longing. Each stroke spoke volumes, softly yearning for his well-being and embodying a mother's unconditional love.

 

"It's alright, my dear son," Mrs. Han said quietly, her voice calming. "You've been through so much, but we will find our way together. Time will heal the wounds and bring clarity to your memories. We'll navigate this journey together, step by step, and I will be here for you every step."

 

Flynn's discomfort simmered beneath the surface as he was engulfed in an aura of love and care—a relationship he didn't legitimately own. To deflect attention and seek the truth he wanted, he gingerly touched the issue that weighed heavily on his mind.

 

"I wonder," he began, his voice tinged with interest and anxiety, "why was I confined in this dungeon? What grave crime did I commit to warrant such imprisonment?"

 

His inquiry hung in the air; his gaze locked with Mrs. Han's, searching for any clue or spark of recognition. Though he sought to mask the urgency in his voice, his underlying doubt betrayed the frantic need for answers burning within him.

 

It was a question he hoped would shed light on the strange predicament he found himself in. The simplicity of the inquiry belied the complicated emotions coursing through him, leaving him hungry for an explanation. Flynn kept further questions in mind, but for now, he sought solace in receiving a satisfactory response to this initial query.

 

Yet instead of the clarity he sought, two sets of eyes greeted his stare with an uncomfortable expression, hinting at something awry. Sensing his blunder, Flynn hurriedly pressed on, his words laced with a touch of dread. "Can we leave this place behind?"

 

As the reunion between mother and son developed, Dr. Kang found himself lost in contemplation. Despite his medical background suggesting that Cheol should be battling memory loss and an impaired view of the world, he couldn't shake off the feeling that something was awry. The rapid revival of a patient in a protracted coma for months seemed inexplicable, challenging traditional medical thinking.

 

The doctor's brow furrowed as he battled with the mystery before him. The two mysteries of Cheol's protracted vegetative state and his surprising recovery persisted in his thoughts, creating a problematic riddle for which he had no simple answers. As the emotional reunion played out, Dr. Kang secretly determined to investigate deeper into Cheol's case, prompted by a persistent feeling that there was more to this exceptional situation than met the eye. He knew there were no easy answers or promises in such circumstances, and his responsibility was to provide support and advice to the best of his abilities.

 

"I will arrange for the necessary tests and consultations with specialists," he informed Mrs. Han, his voice filled with conviction. "We will do everything we can to understand and help Cheol on his journey to recovery."

 

Mrs. Han nodded, her eyes welling up with appreciation and concern. She understood the path ahead would be challenging but found peace knowing she wasn't alone in this battle. With a long breath, she summoned her resolve and shifted her attention back to her son.