Rain came down in sheets, icy and unforgiving, turning the alleyways into rivers. Won’s lungs burned as he ran, his breath sawing through clenched teeth. Every gasp tasted like iron and rainwater.  

The storm didn’t care about his suffering.  

"Damn it."

His legs screamed in protest, but he pushed harder. Behind him, the shouts grew louder—  

"There!"

Lightning split the sky, painting the world in stark white for one blinding second. Brick walls wept with runoff. Gutters vomited frothing water onto the pavement. Nowhere to hide.  

Won skidded around a corner, boots sliding on slick concrete. His eyes darted—locked gate, boarded-up storefront, a dying streetlight flickering over an abandoned car. Useless.  

"That filthy rat’s gonna pay for this!"

"He always gets away."

The voices were closer now. Too close.  

Then he saw it: a slit between two buildings, barely wider than his shoulders.  

He dove in, shoulders scraping brick as he pressed himself into the crevice. Rain dripped from his hair into his eyes, but he didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe.  

Boots splashed past.  

"Dammit, we lost him."* 

A pause. Then grudging retreat.  

Won exhaled, his knees trembling.  

*For now, he was safe.*  

*For now.*  

----

Michael stumbled, nearly falling, his lungs burning. His head whipped left, then right. Empty sidewalks. Dark windows. No one. *No one.*  

Then—movement.  

A figure emerged from the shadows, walking with eerie calm.  

The night was cold, the kind that sank deep into your bones and stayed there. Won's thoughts were miles away, lost in memories he didn’t dare revisit.

Then, a voice broke through the storm—small, cracked, and trembling.

"Help! Please!"

He hit the brakes instinctively. His heart jumped in his chest as he squinted through the rain-streaked windshield. Standing under a flickering streetlight was a boy—soaked, shaking, and barely more than a silhouette in the downpour.

He approached slowly, cautiously, until the boy’s features came into view. Blonde hair plastered to his forehead, wide golden eyes filled with tears, and lips trembling.

Just a kid. That was Won’s first thought.

He crouched down to the boy’s level, letting his voice soften.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said gently.

 “What’s wrong?”

The boy hiccupped, chest heaving with ragged breaths.

“M-My mom… my dad… they—they won’t wake up!”

Won’s breath caught. There was fear in the boy’s voice, yes—but there was something else too. Something colder. More final.

That’s when he noticed the boy’s hands.

Smeared in red.

Blood.

Won’s stomach turned, but his tone remained steady. 

“Alright, kid. How about you take me there? I’ll help you.”

The boy nodded and turned, leading him down the dim, narrow street. As they walked, Won’s mind began to race. What had happened to the boy’s parents? A car accident? A fall?

Or something worse?

He didn’t ask. He would find out soon enough.

They stopped in front of a small, dimly lit house tucked between darkened buildings. The porch light flickered weakly, casting long, distorted shadows over the wet pavement.

Won narrowed his eyes.

“This the place?”

The boy nodded, his voice barely audible. 

“Yes.”

Won stepped forward and pushed open the door.

He froze.

The air inside was thick—choked with the sharp, metallic scent of blood. It hit him like a wall. His stomach twisted, breath catching as his gaze swept the room.

Furniture lay overturned, splinters of broken glass scattered across the floor. Deep red stains soaked into the floorboards, trailing across the room like a gruesome painting. And in the middle of it all—two bodies. Motionless. Lifeless.

His jaw clenched.

“What the hell happened here?”

Behind him, Michael began to sob. His tiny body trembled as he clutched his shirt, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“C-Can you help them?”

Won inhaled sharply, grounding himself before answering.

“I… can’t wake them up,” he said carefully, voice low.

 “But I need you to stop crying, alright? I need you to tell me what happened. Everything.”

Michael wiped at his face with the back of his bloodstained sleeve, hiccuping between gasps.

“I-I was sleeping… and then… I heard a loud noise.”

He paused, trying to steady himself.

“When I woke up, my mom and dad weren’t in the room. So I went out… and…saw mommy but she took me back inside and told to *stay*....few minutes later I went downstairs to check again...and...."

His voice cracked.

“…this is what I saw.”

He pointed toward the bodies, his hand shaking.

“I don’t know what happened. I don’t know…”

Won stared at the scene, heart thudding. Nothing about this felt like an accident. No broken windows. No forced entry. No screams in the distance.

Just silence, blood, and a little boy who’d seen too much.

He’s lucky.

The thought crept unbidden into Won’s mind as he watched the boy sob. Lucky to be alive. Lucky he wasn’t one of the bodies lying cold on the floor. And yet—how lucky could a child be, when everything he knew had been taken away in a single night?

Won’s fingers curled into a fist.

But he softened his tone.

“It’s okay,” he murmured.

He knelt beside Michael, ignoring the chill soaking through his clothes. Carefully, he pulled the boy into his arms. Michael clung to him instantly, burying his face in Won’s chest. His small frame shook with each sob, his fingers knotting tightly into the fabric of Won’s drenched jacket.

“Let’s just call the police, okay?” 

Won said softly.

 “They’ll help.”

After a moment, Michael gave a tiny nod.

Won gently lifted him and settled him on the battered sofa, brushing wet hair from the boy’s face. He stood, surveying the room.

I don’t have a phone… Let’s use theirs.

He scanned the dim lighting until his eyes caught the silhouette of a small table near the hallway.

“Where’s the phone ?”

Michael sniffled and raised a shaky finger toward it. Won stepped carefully, boots skidding slightly on the blood-slicked floor.

As he reached for the phone, his eyes flicked back to the bodies.

Bullet wounds. More than necessary. More than human.

He forced the thought away and grabbed the receiver.

“Found it,” he muttered.

His fingers dialed fast, steady. The dispatcher on the other end picked up. Won kept his tone calm, detached, professional—relaying the address, the situation, the victims.

No emotion. Just the facts.

When the call ended, he set the receiver down and ran a hand through his wet hair.

His job here was done.

Time to leave.

------

Won exhaled sharply, the weight of the moment sinking into his chest like cold lead.

"I'm leaving now,"

 he said, his voice low.

 "The police will be here soon."

But as he began to pull away, he felt a tiny grip on his jacket—frail fingers clutching tightly, refusing to let go.

Michael.

The boy’s sobs had quieted, but his small body still trembled against Won’s jacket. The room was silent except for the steady rhythm of rain tapping against the windows.

“It’s gonna be okay,” 

Won murmured, rubbing slow circles on the boy’s back. 

“I promise.”

He wanted to believe that. Needed to believe it.

But then—

a sound sliced through the quiet like a blade.

Sirens.

Distant but distinct, wailing against the night.

Won’s entire body tensed. His grip on Michael faltered.

The boy didn’t notice at first—too deep in his grief, too small to register the subtle shift in Won’s embrace.

But Won noticed.

The arms holding him were no longer steady. They hesitated.

He cursed under his breath, glancing over his shoulder.

Red and blue lights.

Flickering.

Growing closer.

Too close.

Won froze.

For a single breath, everything was still—except the pounding of his heart and the wailing of the sirens outside. His jaw tightened, his grip on Michael tightening for just a second… before he exhaled sharply.

"Listen, kid," he muttered, voice low and tense, 

"you gotta stay here, okay?"

Before Michael could fully process the words, Won knelt down and gently lowered him back onto the sofa. The warmth vanished almost instantly. Michael's small hands twitched, reaching instinctively for him as panic rushed in.

“No! Don’t go!” he cried.

But Won had already stepped back.

Michael scrambled up, stumbling toward him, his small hands grabbing at the fabric of Won’s sleeve, desperate.

“Please! D-Don’t leave me alone!”

The sirens grew louder—closer—screaming through the night. For just a second, Won faltered. His gaze lingered on the terrified boy, and something in his eyes cracked.

He didn’t want to go.

Didn’t want to leave him behind.

*But if I stay here any longer… I’ll be arrested too.*

There wasn’t time to think.

With a muttered curse, Won grabbed Michael and bolted out of the house, his heart thundering in sync with his footsteps.

“W-Where are we going?” 

Michael asked through hiccuped breaths, glancing up with tear-streaked cheeks.

Won didn’t answer—he just held tighter and ran.

Michael’s little body tensed.

He wanted help—he really did—but the thought of leaving his parents behind gnawed at him.

 What if they woke up? What if they needed him? What if it wasn’t too late?

Tears streamed down his cheeks as he shook his head, frantic and broken.

“N-No! I can’t!” he cried. “I—I have to go back!”

Won sighed, crouching lower so they were eye-level. His voice was gentle, barely above a whisper.

“It’s okay,” he said. “You’re safe now. But we have to go.”

Michael whimpered, his small hands clutching tighter to Won’s soaked jacket. He didn’t want to leave. He couldn’t.

“But—” he started, voice trembling.

Before he could finish, strong arms wrapped around him. Carefully, firmly.

“No!” Michael shouted, his voice cracking. “I have to stay!”

His legs kicked weakly, his fists pressing against Won’s chest in protest. But his strength was already gone, drained by fear and heartbreak. He was too small. Too tired. Too broken.

Won held him tighter, one hand cradling his back, the other steady beneath him.

“Shh…”

 he whispered, rubbing slow, soothing circles along Michael’s spine.

 “I got you.”

Michael’s sobs softened. The world around him blurred into muffled sound and movement, but he clung to the one solid thing left—the stranger who didn’t let go.

And for the first time since the nightmare began, Michael started to believe him.