Axel sat on the cold floor of his minimalist kitchen, a half-empty bottle of whiskey clutched in his hand. The dim glow of the overhead light reflected in the amber liquid, casting shadows on his face. It had been hours since he stormed out of his computer room, devastated by the truth he uncovered: K, the one person he had called a brother, had betrayed him for a position he never even wanted. The thought was unbearable. The whiskey, though burning his throat, dulled the ache in his chest only slightly.
"Why, K? Why would you do this to me?" he muttered under his breath, voice thick with disbelief and pain. He tilted the bottle back again, the bitter liquid searing his throat as it went down.
As the alcohol coursed through him, memories from his past life started to surface, unbidden and cruel. He saw himself as a small boy again, barely five years old, lost and scared in a world he never asked to be a part of. He had never known his parents, just vague impressions of warmth that he sometimes imagined were real. He had thought being orphaned was the worst thing that could happen to a child.
He was wrong.
He had been trafficked into the organization, a twisted, cruel place that trained children to become killers. He remembered crying out for the matron, begging for comfort, only to be met with a vicious slap across the face. The memory stung even now. That slap wasn't just physical; it was the death of innocence.
The reality of his situation became undeniable when he saw a boy his age slit another boy's throat without flinching. Axel, or rather Z as he was known back then, had frozen in terror. He had thought he was going to die.
Until K found him.
"Hey, are you okay?" a soft, babyish voice had whispered to him in the darkness. "I still have some bread I stole from the guards. Let me share it with you so you can have the strength to fight later."
He could see K's wide, frightened eyes in his mind, the small, dirt-smudged hand offering a piece of stale bread like it was the greatest treasure in the world. It was.
"How long have you been here?" he had asked.
"Three months," K had whispered. Then, with the kind of honesty only children possess, he'd said, "Do you think we'll ever leave?"
Z remembered how his own voice had trembled as he replied, "I don't know... maybe."
K had shaken his head. "I don't think so. The ones who left never opened their eyes again. I'm scared too. But I don't want to die. Can you... not die too? All my friends did. I don't want to be alone."
That was the turning point. From that moment on, Z had decided to survive, not just for himself but for K. He had fought tooth and nail, endured hell, trained relentlessly, and risen through the ranks. He had become someone K could rely on.
And K had betrayed him.
Axel growled, the pain inside him flaring into rage. He took another swig of the whiskey, then hurled the bottle against the wall, watching it shatter into glittering shards. He stood abruptly, swaying slightly from the alcohol, but with a strange clarity in his gaze.
"You chose them over me, K," he whispered, a low promise in his voice. "You chose the very people who ruined us. For what? A title I never even wanted?"
He clenched his fists. Tears threatened to fall, but he forced them back. He wouldn't cry. Not anymore.
Instead, he turned and staggered toward his computer room. His steps were heavy, unsteady, but purposeful. The alcohol may have dulled his balance, but his mind was razor sharp. He knew what he needed to do.
Axel dropped into his chair, fingers flying across the keyboard as the screen lit up with strings of code. His expression hardened with each keystroke. The world around him faded as he focused entirely on his task.
Within minutes, he broke through the first firewall. Then another. And another. He was a ghost, unseen, unheard, untraceable. And then, he sent it.
A simple message, delivered in a way only someone like him could manage: "Watch out. I'm back. And I'm coming for you."
He encrypted the source beyond recognition, covering every trace of his digital footprint. K would receive the message, no doubt. And K would know. Deep down, he would know exactly who sent it. But there would be no proof, no way to confirm it. Only the gnawing paranoia, the creeping doubt.
Axel leaned back in his chair, breathing heavily. That single message would be enough to send K spiraling. He knew how K's mind worked. K would begin to unravel, questioning reality, questioning everything.
"You thought you killed me, didn't you?" Axel muttered. "You watched me die. But I'm not so easy to get rid of."
It was the beginning of a game Axel intended to win.
He returned to his living room, collapsing onto the couch with what remained of his drink. His vision blurred as the exhaustion and alcohol finally took their toll. The room spun slightly, and his eyelids began to droop.