The cool wind danced playfully in the air, carrying traces of the autumn scent that lingered on the streets. Flynn kicked his feet off the ground, his breath ragged as he pushed himself to his limits. With every gasp for air, he felt the adrenaline of youthful vigor gushing through his veins.

Exhaustion ultimately fell upon him as Flynn came to a halt, leaning on his knees to catch his breath. He reached for the towel hanging around his neck and used it to wipe the beads of sweat accumulating on his face. Despite his condition, his heart pumped madly, as if celebrating the revival of long-lost energy within him.

"Weak. This body is too weak," Flynn said, his face painted with a hint of frustration. "I know this body was bedridden for a while, but to be this exhausted after not even 10 kilometers of running, even the sickly back in Goldenleaf would laugh at my frailty."

The autumn wind brought much-needed relief, cooling Flynn's heated body and mind after his workout. With energy slowly returning to him, he continued to push forward. However, he knew his body couldn't afford to be pushed to its extreme limit.

Two weeks had passed since Flynn moved into the Han family residence, and during this time, he had learned about the tragic past that his body carried. The revelation was shocking, and he couldn't help but sympathize with Cheol, understanding what it felt like to be the victim of betrayal.

Flynn couldn't quite explain it, but there was a burning desire for revenge within his body—an urge to confront and punish those who had wronged Cheol, just as the man had dreamed of doing. The thought of making them suffer, of cutting their throats slowly and hearing them beg for their miserable lives, crossed his mind. Yet, he also knew the limitations of this world—a place where strict laws controlled the actions of all, bending only for those in power. It stood in stark contrast to the rules of Goldenleaf, where the laws served as a shackle to keep the nobles at bay, while the poor and needy were often disregarded. The irony of two conflicting ideologies gnawed at him, adding another degree of difficulty to the path he had to tread.

"I guess the only way for me is to play a game and be good at it. What an amusing way to exact revenge," Flynn reflected. He never had the luxury of playing games; such extravagance was reserved for the wealthy. People like him had to worry about filling their stomachs every single day, and the only game he ever played was the game of life and death.

"I'll look into it, but breaking the news to Mom will surely be a challenge," Flynn groaned. Discussing his aspirations to venture back into eSports weighed heavily on his mind. Mrs. Han may not say anything, but knowing how this realm ruined his youngest child's life, Flynn was sure this would be another unsaid worry for her.

Lost in his thoughts, Flynn's feet brought him to his destination. Time seemed to play tricks on him, for before he knew it, he had arrived at the restaurant—Madam Kim's Fried Chicken House, locally known as Madam Kim's. The restaurant was bustling, with people coming and going with every passing moment. The looks on their faces told Flynn that this restaurant was one to satisfy customers.

Watching from outside, Flynn saw Mrs. Han gracefully moving about in the jam-packed restaurant, swiftly serving food and taking orders. Her movements were elegant, almost reminiscent of the women of the Assassin's Hall he had encountered in the past. Their lithe limbs moved with deadly yet graceful maneuvers, and he couldn't help but note a similar fluidity in Mrs. Han's actions as she navigated through the crowded space.

Flynn chuckled as he mulled over the concept of Mrs. Han being a covert assassin, sporting an angelic face yet catastrophic hands. As he continued to observe his mother, Flynn noticed a commotion unfold. While Mrs. Han was on her way to serve an order, a customer stumbled on his feet, causing him to nudge her. The course of action led to Mrs. Han dropping a plateful of chicken unto the man on the floor.

And the next moment, the man stood from the ground, his face burning red as he seized Mrs. Han by the collar. Flynn couldn't hear far away, and any semblance of sound exiting the man's lips was drowned out by the ruckus the surrounding customers created in their attempt to stop him.

The world seemed to darken, and Flynn's sight turned into a red haze. Rage surged from his heart as his feet hurriedly dusted off the cement floor. With eyes trained to circumvent obstacles, Flynn maneuvered his way into Mrs. Han, hopping here and sliding there when necessity called for it. As he approached the encirclement that had formed around Mrs. Han, he saw the man grasping her clothes take another hand out and quickly and violently slap his mother's cheeks.

Seeing the terror in Mrs. Han's gaze and the pinkish bruise spreading on her face, Flynn acted with an intent to kill. His hand rushed for the man's neck, and each of his fingers dug deeply into the man's throat, with a desire to crush it. Surprise flooded the man's face as he turned his focus from Mrs. Han to Flynn, who suddenly stood alongside her. As Flynn clamped tighter on his throat, the man released Mrs. Han from his clutches; his hands clung to Flynn's in a desperate attempt to free himself. Unable to make any coherent sound, the man's eyes cried for help from the people surrounding them. Still, the only thing he received was a look of contempt.

"Gyeongja! What's going on?" a voice from further back in the crowd yelled out. Snapping back into reality, Mrs. Han noticed her son's rage, which could kill someone. She was struggling for breath, and her face stung from the slap. However, none of that mattered to her at that moment. Reaching for her son's hand, Mrs. Han shouted, her voice shaking with worry and fear.

Flynn felt like everything around him was shut out, and the noise of the commotion deafened him as his mind focused on eliminating the threat before him. Regrettably, his condition was far from ideal, with a body unfit for assassination. Otherwise, he would have effortlessly ended such a threat.

"SON! I beg you! Stop it!" Flynn could only turn back to reality when Mrs. Han appeared before him. Her gaze was filled with worry, and tears streamed down her cheeks. Surprise overtook him as his hands lost their momentary strength, and he released the man's neck, letting go of his tight grasp.

"M-mom," Flynn stammered, slowly regaining his consciousness. He knew he had behaved hastily, and as an assassin, he highly condemned acting upon emotions. Flynn witnessed countless comrades fall due to such impulsiveness. Even the Assassin's Hall, which had nurtured him, had instilled in him the value of eliminating his emotions—that had been the first lesson he learned from them.

'Why am I acting like this? ' Flynn wondered, feeling lost beyond reasoning. Mrs. Han was merely a means to an end in his mission, a tool to navigate this strange new world, and he should treat her as such. That was the way of Flynn Nightwalker, the Shadowblade—a cold, detached strategist who only focused on the end goal.

"Cheol, my son! Are you alright?" Mrs. Han shouted, each syllable carrying a strong feeling of unease.

'Why should she worry for me? I should be scolded for breaking a law in this world.' Flynn's mind was chaotic, the threads of reasoning tangled. Only when he glanced at Mrs. Han's face did the threads of reason slowly loosen up.

"Hey! Is this freak your son? I'll sue him! He almost broke my throat. Aishh! Just you wait, you prick!" The man, his eyes reflecting both rage and horror, spoke furiously, searching for his phone in his pockets.

"Go ahead! Go ahead and sue my son! But don't think I'll stay idle. I, too, will sue you for assault," Mrs. Han yelled, her voice echoing wildly as she provoked the madman. Nonetheless, Flynn could see fear lingering in her eyes.

'Just why would she do that? Shouldn't she worry more about herself? ' Flynn wondered. Finally, the thread of reasoning untangled, and clarity filled his mind.

'Because I'm her son.' Flynn finally grasped Mrs. Han's course of action. Perhaps his distorted impressions of his parents clouded his judgment. He should have realized that Mrs. Han was different— someone who would go to extreme lengths to protect him.

'And I did that because I see Mrs. Han as my true mother,' Flynn reflected. The realization was clear—he had gained a precious person in this new life, as precious as the Crown Prince he had served. And this time, he would go to any lengths to protect her.

"You bitch! Tsk! This filthy restaurant is not worth my time!" The man, recognizing favor was not on his side, swiftly took off, shoving away the crowd before tumbling down with another comical thud. The man ran away with a tail between his legs, not taking the humiliation any further.

"Gyeongja! Cheol! What's going on?" Behind the dispersing crowd, a woman with curly hair, lips as red as blood, and a figure as curvy as a pear stepped in. Worry was visible on her face, intensifying considerably when she noticed the bruise decorating Mrs. Han's face.

"Oh my god! This is terrible! Police. Let's call the police! Oh, no. Ambulance. Yes. Call an ambulance!" Madam Kim worried, her expression nothing short of sincere. However, Mrs. Han found her friend and employer's reaction rather humorous. A small laugh escaped her lips as she witnessed the exaggerated display.

"I'm alright, Bokja, I mean, Madam Kim," Mrs. Han mused. "Rather, I'm worried about Cheol. He looked so scary back then."

"I'm sorry, Mom," Flynn replied. Realizing that he regarded Mrs. Han as his mother opened a new door for him. An overwhelming sense of shame seized the former assassin; Flynn had shown such unsightly behavior in front of his mother. More than that, he felt sorry for deceiving her, knowing that this deceit would persist as long as he wanted her to be his mother.

"Don't do that again. You know I treasure you, and I don't want you to revert to your old habits," Mrs. Han quietly remarked. Her eyes expressed a deeper truth— that whatever befell her kid, she would always raise him back up.

"I'm sorry, but I simply couldn't watch," Flynn said. He couldn't meet his mother's stare, and instead, his eyes sought the floor like a child receiving a scolding.

"Alright, alright. You two. Go ahead and go home," Madam Kim said. Her lips twitched slightly, finding the mother-son interaction endearing. "Cheol, take Mrs. Han home and don't look for trouble."

"Yes, Madam Kim," Flynn answered. He hurriedly sought his mom's hand, feeling her desperate grasp as she gripped back, conveying her emotions without words.

"I'll go get my things first. You can wait for me at the entrance," Mrs. Han remarked to her son before turning her focus to her boss. "And Madam Kim, I'm sorry for the commotion again. And I'm sorry for making you worry."

"It's alright. C'mon. You've done nothing wrong. And your child, he's a good one," Madam Kim said, her attention landing on the young man.

---

At first, Bokja Kim had a terrible impression of Cheol Han. How could she not? Ever since Gyeongja Han, her closest high school friend, worked for her, not a single day passed without discussing her troubles. She would always inform her that her son was veering on a path to ruin.

Her impression worsened when she discovered that Cheol had attempted to take his own life. Bokja observed how the world crushed Gyeongja. She had seen her friend's soul leave her. She had to move out and use her deposit to pay for Cheol's hospitalization. Bokja decided to shelter her friend, lending the floor below hers for dirt-cheap rent. With much effort, it took Bokja several weeks to get Mrs. Han back on her feet. That's why she couldn't forgive the child who almost ruined her closest friend's life.

However, three years had passed, and Gyeongja had started to mend her wounds. She was slowly reverting to her former self. Then, in a sudden twist of fate, Cheol woke up. It was a moment worthy of celebration, but it also worried her. Bokja feared the child might bring disaster to her mother's life again.

A few months later, Gyeongja took Cheol back home. And after a few days, she introduced him to Madam Kim. Cheol turned out to be anything but what she had expected. He was a child dedicated to his mother. Madam Kim could see how deeply they loved each other, and their bond wouldn't let either of them fall into ruin. Perhaps God favored Mrs. Han and sent her the son she deserved.

"I wish you all the happiness in the world. You two deserve your own happy ending," Madam Kim whispered, her voice carrying a heartfelt prayer carried by the mid-autumn breeze.