The sky was painted orange, heavy black clouds scattered everywhere.
A man walked alone down a deserted street, wearing a white T-shirt, long black pants, and carrying groceries in a black plastic bag.
He moved slowly. His body was slightly hunched, and with his dull, lifeless eyes, he looked like someone deeply depressed.
Splash. Splash.
The road was covered in puddles. On both sides stood rows of houses—most of them bare red bricks with no paint. There were empty plots of land too, overgrown with wild plants and banners displaying phone numbers of landowners.
He kept walking, ignoring his surroundings, until he noticed the streetlights that had just turned on, flickering faintly.
"Night's coming soon…"
He quickened his pace. Along the way, he passed an open field that transformed into a night bazaar every evening. Many people were already setting up their stalls, and despite it still being late afternoon, the place was crowded.
He glanced up at the sky, checking the time.
"…Maybe just for a moment."
He entered the bazaar. Inside, it was far noisier than it looked from the outside.
"FISH! FRESH FISH! CHEAP, CHEAP!"
The shouting of vendors overwhelmed him, leaving him unsure of what to buy.
He walked aimlessly through the crowd.
Thud!
A little girl bumped into him.
She stumbled back and looked up at him.
"I–I'm sorry, sir… I wasn't looking."
Judging by her appearance, she was around six or eight years old.
Such a luxurious dress… for a market? he thought.
"It's okay," the man said, lowering his head with a gentle smile.
"Sofi!"
He turned toward the voice. A woman cut through the crowd, carrying an expensive handbag, dressed fashionably, her makeup overly thick.
She glanced at the man briefly with a puzzled look, then sharply turned to the child.
"Where have you been, you naughty girl!"
She pinched the child's cheek.
"I–I was just lost!" the girl said, trying to pull away.
"Liar! You were trying to grab toys again, weren't you?"
"…This isn't my problem anymore," the man muttered as he turned to leave.
"Ah—sir."
He stopped and turned around.
"Yes? Is something wrong?"
"Oh, no, not at all. I just wanted to thank you for looking after my daughter."
The woman extended her hand.
"My name is Diva. Nice to meet you."
Her smile was overly bright.
"…Nice to meet you."
They shook hands.
Suddenly, Diva froze.
She quickly pulled her hand away and stared at him in shock.
Panicking, she rummaged through her bag.
As she searched frantically, the man glanced at his wallet.
Only eighty dollars left for this month…
Diva suddenly grabbed his hand again, pressing something into his palm while squeezing tightly. Her eyes were shut, her face drenched in sweat and anxiety.
The groceries slipped from his hand and fell to the ground.
"Uh—excuse me, what are you—"
"Shh!" Diva whispered, gripping him even tighter.
She opened her eyes.
"Your child is… the source of all the problem."
Her face was pale, trembling.
"What do you mean?"
Disturbed, the man shook her hand off and stepped back.
Feeling something in his palm, he looked down.
A metal object—shaped like a crescent moon, with a spiral-shaped star engraved at its center.
"You must beg for forgiveness. Now!"
Diva clutched the object tightly, her hands shaking violently.
The man glanced toward the child—
—and froze.
The girl was gone.
In her place stood a doll.
"Stay away from me!"
He hurried out of the bazaar, hastily picking up his fallen groceries.
Behind him, Diva kept screaming,
"The God of Emptiness accepts all His creations!"
She raised the crescent-shaped object toward the sky—turning her back to the real moon.
...
Inside a hospital room, a family was making so much noise that people passing by covered their ears in irritation.
Someone had just given birth. Thirteen people crowded inside the room—three looked like children, two were elderly and wrinkled, and the rest seemed to be in their twenties. All of them looked poor, judging by their worn-out clothes.
In that cramped space, they pressed against one another just to see the newborn baby boy.
Every single one of them wore foolish smiles on their faces—except for one man leaning against the wall beside the door. He looked to be in his twenties, wearing a plain white T-shirt, eyes dull and lifeless. He stood apart from the others, staring at the family with clear disgust.
One of them stepped forward and picked up the baby boy. He had an unkempt beard and mustache, curly graying hair, blue jeans stained with oil, and a green-and-white camouflage shirt soaked in sweat and reeking of a strong odor. Holding the baby high, he shouted a name.
"Your name is June… June!!!"
The room erupted in laughter—loud, hollow laughter.
Those watching from outside the room looked both disgusted and pitiful at the same time.
A nurse dressed in clean white clothes and wearing a cap approached.
"Visiting hours are over."
The family left, leaving behind only the man who had been leaning against the wall—and the woman lying on the hospital bed.
"I... June?"
Bored, June fell asleep.
When he woke up, he found himself inside a glass tube. Looking around, he saw many other babies, each sealed in their own tubes. He tapped on the glass, hoping for a response.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
After several knocks, someone tapped back.
They communicated through tapping and facial expressions, laughing together, waking the others—until the entire room was filled with the sound of glass being knocked.
Amid the noise, June suddenly froze.
Beyond the glass wall, someone was staring directly at him.
It was his father.
He stared silently, his panda-like eyes dull and lifeless. A person in a white lab coat approached him and patted his back, trying to calm him down.
Confused and afraid, June pulled the cloth over his body.
Suddenly—
BAM!
The door was kicked open.
His father came running toward June's tube. Startled by the noise, June looked up just in time to see the man lift a chair, preparing to smash the glass.
Someone rushed in, tackled the man, twisted his arms behind his back, and pinned him to the floor as he thrashed violently.
"why do you even exist?"
He kept staring at June with the same empty gaze.
Overwhelmed, June lost consciousness.
June awoke in a dark place.
There was nothing there.
He stood still, searching the void—until a light appeared, illuminating an old, worn wooden chair.
As June approached it, a black humanoid figure suddenly dropped in front of him. Its body was human-like, but it wore a white mask with a blank, expressionless face.
June jolted awake.
A drop of water fell onto his forehead.
He saw his mother, crying as she held him in her arms.
10 years later.
Crash!
The sound of shattering glass in the morning jolted June awake. He sat up on the creaking bed, rubbing his eyes, forcing them open wider. After a moment, he stood up and stepped out of the dark room.
Before opening the door, he turned back.
A woman in hospital-logo pajamas was sleeping on the same bed.
That was his mother—Katy.
June smiled faintly, walked over, and gently pulled the blanket up to cover her properly before heading for the door.
He opened the rotten wooden door and walked toward the kitchen.
Suddenly, a can of sardines was thrown at him from behind.
June almost snapped back—but stopped himself. He picked up the can and turned around.
A man with dull, sunken eyes stood there, wearing a stained white undershirt and plain black shorts.
His father—Ferand.
"What is it, Father?" June asked, clenching his fist behind his back, forcing a smile.
"Yawn! Hurry up and cook that. I need to leave early today," Ferand said, his tone and appearance matching that of a true loafer.
"Yes," June replied quietly, turning away and heading into the kitchen.
June lived in a rented room in a slum area.
Outside, trash piled up everywhere—empty liquor bottles, filthy roads full of potholes, dead rats scattered around. Criminals roamed freely.
Inside was no better.
White walls coated in dust, brownish-red splatters like dried stains, a gaping hole in the ceiling where rats freely came and went. A black-and-white television, rotten doors, spider webs everywhere.
The house was in such terrible condition because June's mother was paralyzed.
And his father was responsible for it.
From the beginning, his mother's life had already been cursed. After June was born, her entire family was hit by a car and killed.
They tried to sue the driver for compensation—but the driver was a drunk government son. He was released because he was underage and claimed it was "an accident."
Enraged, Ferand—who believed June was the source of all misfortune—started beating him every day.
When Katy tried to protect June, Ferand struck her violently on the thigh, shattering the bone and leaving her paralyzed.
After that, she stopped speaking to him. She avoided even meeting his eyes.
Ferand became slightly calmer after the incident.
Once, during dinner, he told June about his encounter with a strange woman.
June, who understood only the outline of the story, simply smiled and continued eating.
That didn't mean the beatings stopped.
Ferand just became quieter. He spoke less.
"At least he changed a little," June thought.
Ferand eventually started looking for work. Sometimes he returned with money or food—very little, but enough to survive a day.
June knew this couldn't go on forever.
But what choice did they have?
Plop!
June cooked the eggs his father had brought home the day before. Even though he never went outside, he knew egg prices were rising every day.
He wanted to ask, Where did Father get these eggs?
But he didn't want to get beaten.
So he swallowed the question.
He was just grateful that his father still cared—even if barely.
Once, Ferand tried to abandon them.
After he left, June and his mother began receiving government aid.
When Ferand found out, he returned, begging to be forgiven.
June refused.
But his mother accepted him back.
Even after Ferand returned, they remained poor. The money always disappeared after he took it to the bank.
And because of that, June never went to school.
Even free schools were impossible—his duty was to stay home and take care of the house and his paralyzed mother while waiting for his father to return.
If he ever tried to leave, kidnappers lurked outside—and his helpless mother would be left in danger.
Besides, his appearance screamed poverty.
A plain white T-shirt with a black rice emblem and bold GOVERNMENT AID text, far larger than his frail body.
He was a walking target for ridicule.
"Done!"
June had cooked three eggs and one large can of sardines, placing them on the table.
Despite the chaos of the house, the kitchen was spotless—the only place they used daily.
"I'm coming!" Ferand walked over, struggling into the tight black jacket he always wore when job hunting.
Only Ferand ate at the table.
June had to bring food to his mother.
He placed two small portions of sardines and two eggs onto separate plates, then carried them into the bedroom.
"Good morning, Mom," he said softly, nudging the door open.
He placed the plates on her bed, then walked to the window and opened it.
Outside, the sun was rising.
A clear blue sky without clouds. Birds everywhere. Densely packed buildings with metal rooftops reflecting sunlight.
It wasn't beautiful.
But June liked it.
Because this was the only place where he could see a wider world.
"Yawn!"
His mother woke up, sitting up slowly.
"June… you're already awake?"
He turned back.
"Oh—yeah. I just woke up."
He walked over, picked up the food.
And they ate together.
While eating, a question lingered in June's mind.
He finally asked his mother.
"Mom?"
"Yes, June?"
"Do you remember your childhood… when you were still a baby?"
"Hm?" She tilted her head. "No, I don't. Why are you asking all of a sudden?"
"Actually—"
"I'm leaving now!"
His father cut their conversation short.
"Alright! Good luck," june replied.
They didn't continue the discussion and finished their meal in silence.
...
While June was cleaning the kitchen, the sound of knocking echoed through the room.
Curious, he peeked through a small hole in the wall.
Two large men were standing outside, pounding on the door.
They look like thugs…
June tiptoed toward the bathroom. Inside, there was a hole that connected directly to the room below.
He grabbed a stone and threw it hard into the opening.
A moment later, someone looked up.
It was the landlord.
"What is it, June?"
"Mr. Samir! There are two suspicious men knocking on our door."
"Hm. Alright. I'll handle it."
Suddenly, everything went quiet.
Then—
BAM!
The door was forced open.
Realizing he was in danger, June grabbed an old rusted pipe, his hands trembling as he held it.
He crept toward the bathroom door, gripping the pipe behind his back, preparing to strike.
Unexpectedly, one of the thugs opened the bathroom door.
June swung the pipe with all his strength, hitting the man's head.
The thug clutched his forehead, instinctively blocking his vision.
June seized the chance, slipping behind him.
The thug swung his fist blindly forward, smashing his hand into the sink.
From behind, June struck again with the pipe—the man collapsed unconscious.
The second thug saw everything and immediately charged at June.
Just as June braced himself—
CRASH!
A glass bottle struck the thug's head from behind, knocking him out cold.
As the man fell, Mr. Samir stood at the doorway with his wife, Mrs. Rina, who was holding a wooden stick.
"Good job, kid."
Relief washed over June. He collapsed to the floor, sitting down as he struggled to catch his breath.
Mr. Samir and Mrs. Rina—both with round, pudgy bellies that gave them a soft, almost cute appearance—walked over to him.
They checked the two unconscious men.
After a while, Mr. Samir dragged them outside.
Mrs. Rina leaned down, kissed June on the forehead, smiled warmly, and followed her husband.
"Take good care of your mother, okay?"
"Yes. Thank you!"
With a gentle smile, Mrs. Rina closed the door.
June let out a small chuckle to himself.
"Good thing Dad taught me how to hit… hehe."
He then returned to his mother's room, ready to tell her a story—
a very interesting one.