A young man with a flawless appearance, elegantly dressed in his school uniform, walked through the bustling streets of Seoul, each of his steps echoing in the city's tumult. His suitcase rolled behind him, and in his other hand, he held his phone.
His name was Ken Jiheon, and today, he had a very important trip.
He wore earphones shoved deep into his ears… but there was no music.
He didn't need any.
The shrill honks of cars, the hurried footsteps of passersby on the asphalt, the loud conversations bursting from all directions… This urban uproar, this concrete jungle, was more than enough.
Amidst this chaos, he remained like marble, indifferent, walking at his own pace. Without rushing.
Anyway, the world was already running fast enough without him.
Suddenly, Ken stopped in front of a wall covered with posters displaying photos.
Those of men, women, children… Faces frozen in time.
The missing.
Names scribbled, carved. Messages written underneath. Some erased by time, others covered by new photos, more recent, fresher.
Two years ago, the world was struck by a phenomenon as terrifying as it was inexplicable—one that caused a sudden and catastrophic decline in the global population.
Millions of people, of all ages and nationalities, vanished mysteriously across the globe overnight, without leaving a single trace.
Rich or poor, regardless of race or social class, no one was spared from this calamity.
Major international organizations such as the UN and Interpol urgently gathered the world's leading scientists and researchers in an attempt to understand and stop the phenomenon, launching massive investigations and worldwide research programs.
But nothing worked.
The missing remained untraceable, as if they had simply vanished from existence.
Frightened and overwhelmed, unable to understand — let alone explain — what was happening, the populations of the entire world drowned in an endless flood of rumors. These rumors sparked violent riots.
It was chaos on the internet.
Forums and social networks exploded with theories, each one more absurd than the last:
alien abductions, secret experiments, the coming apocalypse…
The media screamed in horror.
Every single day, somewhere in the world, thousands more went missing.
And then, one day, the phenomenon stopped—just as abruptly as it had begun.
Exhausted, drained of all strength and resources, the governments of the world eventually abandoned the search.
The missing were then officially declared dead.
With no bodies ever found, immense monuments — true modern black Alexandrias — were erected in every capital across the globe.
Upon their dark walls, the names of the vanished were carved one by one, like eternal scars etched into stone.
These memorials became sanctuaries where families and loved ones gathered to lay flowers, to pray, to mourn.
In the end, everyone was forced to accept the painful truth, if only to keep moving forward.
And even now, though the phenomenon has ceased, its shadow still haunts humanity—like a silent ghost.
Ken Jinheon resumed his walk through the great city to reach the station, taking the route he knew was the fastest. As soon as he crossed a small alley, murmurs rose. Hasty conversations, furtive glances, intense stares… each step drew attention.
It was a tempo Ken Jinheon knew too well.
For him, it had become a habit to be watched like that.
The opposite would have been, how to say it… rather surprising.
Those lingering stares.
Indiscreet.
He was used to it.
He preferred to pretend not to notice. But their insistence… it weighed in the air.
Since childhood, it had always been the same.
Every time he went out, people stared at him as if he were a circus animal.
Over time, he had categorized two frequent reactions on their faces and in their body language: curiosity… or rejection.
"Am I a monster?"
He had asked himself that question countless times.
But this time, the answer was different.
People don't look at a monster like that.
Not with those eyes.
Not with that expression on their face.
And especially not with such intensity.
It wasn't fear.
Not really rejection either.
It was like… fascination.
As if they were seeing something unreal.
A myth lost in modern streets.
A fictional character escaped from a novel or a tale.
And he had reason to believe it.
It was obvious from the very first glance.
It was enough to look at Ken Jinheon to realize it.
Ken Jinheon was excessively handsome.
An unreal beauty.
The kind of charm you only encounter in fiction.
His jet-black hair mixed waves, straight strands, and light curls. Rebellious, pushed back, with two long locks escaping on each side, falling in soft waves in parallel across his forehead.
Eyebrows carved like blades.
A perfect jawline. A face of troubling symmetry.
Smooth lips, a delicate shade of pink.
But the detail that left no one indifferent, and which largely explained the stares, the whispers, the persecutions, were his eyes.
Eyes straight out of a fantasy novel.
Ruby red.
Scarlet.
A rare gleam, unique in this world.
They shone, reflecting light like jewels.
A supernatural glow, due to a genetic mutation so exceptional that even science couldn't explain its origin.
But with the recent events of these past years, people had come to understand that science didn't always have the answers.
Those eyes gave him a piercing, unique, captivating, sometimes even hypnotic gaze.
An almost demonic charm.
One could easily get lost in them.
As if a fallen angel, or a demon destined for greatness, was staring at you with a cold, silent certainty of his power.
His skin, a rare light brown in this region of the world, only made his eyes stand out more.
A warm complexion, soft, almost golden under certain reflections of light.
And then, there was his build.
Taller. More defined.
A naturally striking silhouette.
Made to be noticed, even in a crowd.
Ken Jinheon seemed to come from another world.
And yet, he kept walking.
Indifferent to stares. Insensitive to judgments. As if nothing mattered.
***
A few minutes later, he finally arrived at the large Seoul train station.
It was immense, with its glass and metal architecture—a true showcase of progress. Inside, it was still the same usual chaos. The station teemed with people, even at this hour of the day.
The sounds of hurried footsteps echoed everywhere.
The announcements from the loudspeakers overlapped again and again.
Voices crossed, overlapped in clamor, a constant tumult, where people passed and repassed, each attending to their own business.
After asking at the reception and completing a few formalities, Ken Jinheon crossed the crowd and quietly went down the stairs leading to the platforms, where his train awaited, ready to board.
But suddenly, a violent crash coming from a corridor to his right caught his attention, forcing him to stop.
"Idiot, do you want to die or what?!"
"I told you to bring cigarettes, didn't I?"
"You really don't care about your life, huh…?"
A group of students had formed a semicircle around a frail boy, with pale skin and evasive eyes.
His uniform was wrinkled, his shirt half out of his pants, and his jet-black hair was messy. He clutched his bag tightly against him like a futile shield.
Five bullies, all taller than him, surrounded him.
At the center, slightly back, stood their leader: a tall young man with bleached hair and a mocking smile fixed on his lips.
He said nothing, did nothing.
He simply observed calmly, like a master letting his dogs play with prey before biting.
Ken, half-hidden behind a wall, silently watched the spectacle, clearly not wanting to get involved.
One of the thugs brutally tore the frail boy's bag from him and threw it against the wall. Another, closer, landed a violent kick in his stomach, making him collapse to the ground, curled up and trembling in pain.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you, insect."
"Hurry up, it's my turn." said one of the harassers.
"Don't rush me. You know how much I like taking my time beating this bastard." he sneered, giving several kicks to the boy's curled-up body on the ground.
"Careful, you're going to kill him like that—hahaha."
"Stop, you've had enough fun. Now, I have to go see my beautiful Hanna, and the sight of this loser's face is starting to make me nauseous," said the bleached-hair boy in a dry and authoritative tone, his gaze full of contempt.
"Yes, boss."
This boy was named Do-wan.
Heir to a powerful family, his father, an influential CEO, was one of the main partners of the school Ken attended. Because of this, Do-wan enjoyed a certain impunity, which allowed him to commit repeated acts of violence without ever being truly troubled.
A real sadist, who took perverse pleasure in crushing the weak.
And his favorite toy… was this frail, pretty boy with a fine face, curled on the ground in pain, his eyes empty.
Do-wan stared for a moment at the pathetic, empty face of the boy lying on the ground. Then a wicked smile slowly spread across his lips, a smile that promised nothing good.
"In fact, I've changed my mind. Before leaving, I will personally teach you to obey your elders,"
"I know how much you prefer it when I do it…" he said, licking his lips.
He approached slowly, each step resonating with a silent threat, then crouched in front of the young man.
His fingers closed brutally on his hair, pulling his head back and exposing his fine face twisted in pain.
His hand then rose slowly, ready to strike him.
But a clear and firm female voice sounded behind him, interrupting him sharply in his motion.
"Do-wan! What are you doing here?"
He immediately released his grip and straightened up, hands in the air, suddenly showing a falsely innocent expression toward the person who had arrived.
A breathtakingly beautiful young girl stood there.
Hands on her hips, she fixed them with a stern gaze—almost royal.
"Nothing, dear president. I just wanted to help our comrade here, who accidentally fell," he replied with an angelic smile, while his tone dripped with irony.
Then he slightly turned to the frail boy and added in a syrupy voice, full of innuendo:
"Right, Jae-sung?"
"Y-yes… it was an accident. My shoelace came undone… I… I fell…"
"He just wanted to help me, president…" he stammered, trembling.
The boy, visibly terrified, slowly stood up and dusted off his uniform with a nervous gesture.
But the young girl was not fooled.
Her gaze slid over the supposedly undone shoelaces—perfectly tied.
Then on the young man's face, and especially on his hands, covered in small injuries.
His long sleeves and school uniform surely hid others.
She remained silent, but the cold anger in her eyes spoke for itself.
Her face froze. She clenched her fists, rage rising within her.
But before she could say a word, an announcement sounded on the loudspeakers:
"Passengers of the last train to Busan are requested to proceed quickly to the platform."
"Well, what a pity, my dear president. See you on the train," Do-wan said with a syrupy smile, his gaze sliding with desire over her before he disappeared into the corridor, followed by his gang.
As soon as they were out of sight, the young girl quickly approached Jae-sung, took a small first-aid kit from her bag, and began cleaning his wounds with quick but delicate gestures.
"Bruhhh~ That bastard always gives me chills… and you, are you sure you're okay? Tss… Seriously, they've gone too far this time. I'll talk to the teachers."
"No! No, it's… it's not necessary, president! I told you… I just fell!" he replied, panicked, his voice trembling.
She stared at him for a moment, silent, her gaze serious and heavy. Then, without warning—
Bam
"Ouch! Why did you hit me?!" he groaned, rubbing his head.
She leaned slightly toward him, then gently and delicately placed her hand on his injured cheek. Jae-sung immediately blushed, frozen and surprised by such softness.
"Next time they bother you, come see me immediately. The student council is here for that, okay?"
A heavy silence settled between them.
Then she added more softly:
"Don't carry all this alone, Jae-sung. If you need help… I am here."
Then, noticing the boy's embarrassment, she quickly withdrew her hand from his cheek and looked away, a little embarrassed.
"And then, what kind of president would I be if I wasn't even capable of protecting my own students, huh? Hahaha…" she said with a small nervous laugh, trying to dissipate the awkwardness.
Sniff…
"Thank you."
"Hm?"
The boy's eyes widened.
These simple words were enough to crack the wall he had built around his heart.
He, who was always avoided out of fear of Do-wan and his gang, suddenly felt… seen.
"Thank you… president…" he whispered, his voice broken, trying to hide his tears behind his arm.
"Heinnn?! You're crying now?!" she said, half-surprised, half-embarrassed, trying to hide her emotions.
Sniff… sniff…
"Forgive me… I am so pathetic… I can't even control myself…"
The young girl crossed her arms over her chest, closed her eyes for a moment to think, then let out a long sigh.
"It's not a problem. Take this trip as a chance to change a little… to reflect. And when you are ready to talk, come see me. I will help you as best I can. Because it is my duty as the president of the student council," she said proudly, smiling confidently.
"Come on, let's go now. We'll be late for roll call."
"Yes!" he replied, tears still in his eyes, snot on his nose.
She burst out laughing.
"Hahaha, so this is what a man is?"
Sniff… sniff…
"S-stop, it's not funny, president…"
"All right, all right, I'll stop," she said, gently tapping his shoulder, amused.
But suddenly, she stopped abruptly.
Her gaze lost in the void, then she slightly turned her head, scanning the end of the corridor. Her smile faded, replaced by a strange expression.
"What's wrong, president?"
She remained silent for a few seconds, then whispered:
"…Nothing. I thought I saw something."
***
"Wow… this train is huge!" exclaimed a student, mouth wide open in front of the luxurious locomotive.
"Are we really going to get on there? Well, I hope so…" added a timid girl, squeezed in the middle of the crowd of students gathered on the platform.
"Silence, everyone! Listen carefully! Boarding will begin soon. Come here for roll call!"
A mature woman, with severe beauty and natural presence, suddenly appeared in front of the crowd, holding documents.
She wore a perfectly pressed white blouse, a long black skirt, and her hair up highlighted her rigid posture.
Her cold gaze scanned the students before she declared firmly:
"First of all, I remind you, dear students, that this trip to Busan, aboard the luxurious KTX-Sancheon, is a reward offered by our institution for your excellent results in the provincial exams."
She paused, straightened to her full height, hands on hips, chin raised, then continued:
"You, elite students, come from all classes. As our school system is based on meritocracy, you have been chosen to experience this privileged moment."
Her gaze slowly swept over the crowd. A thin, cunning, almost mocking smile brushed her lips, tinged with sarcasm.
"As long as your results live up to the prestige and grandeur of our school, you will continue to enjoy privileges and luxuries… that some of you may never know in your life."
"Pff, might as well call us poor while you're at it…" muttered a student sharply, tone bitter.
The instructor continued, unperturbed, pretending to have heard nothing.
"Our benevolent principal attaches great importance to rewarding work and excellence, offering them the honors they deserve."
Then, in a lower tone, almost to herself, hand covering her mouth, she let slip:
"It's natural… hmph… One does not give diamonds to pigs."
A glacial silence fell over the crowd.
"Oops…" she said, noticing the dark looks aimed at her. She cleared her throat, quickly resumed, to change the subject:
"Tomorrow morning, we will arrive in Busan, where we will stay at the Paradise Hotel, one of the most prestigious establishments in the country. Then, we will visit several research centers, such as the…"
The students' eyes widened, their faces frozen in a whirlwind of emotions.
"Wait… wait… my head hurts now. Isn't this the hotel where one night costs more than 400,000 won?!"
"What… You mean we're going to sleep in a place my parents couldn't even afford with all their savings?!"
The truth behind their excitement: most students had never dreamed of setting foot in such a place. One night in this hotel cost between 400,000 and 600,000 won—the equivalent of 200 to 450 euros—far beyond the means of the majority.
"But that does not mean you can slack off," the instructor cut sharply.
"You represent the elite of our school. Behave as such."
But the students, already carried away by the excitement of this exceptional trip, no longer listened to a word of the instructor.
She let out a heavy sigh, exasperated by these youths, then quickly glanced at her watch and declared:
"We will now begin roll call. I will call you one by one. Once finished, you will board."