Garayon Kim was sixteen years old. He was tall for his age, standing at six feet and a little more, and he weighed over ninety kilograms. People often thought he looked older than he really was. He lived in a small town in Russia with his parents.
His father died quietly one winter night. The doctors said it was natural. There had been no warning. No long illness. Just silence.
After that, the house felt empty.
His mother changed. She stopped talking much. She stopped spending time with others, she would just sit near the window and stare outside for hours. Garayon tried to be strong for her, but no use depression already took his mother.
A few days later, she suffered a heart attack.
Garayon found himself alone in the world.
For a few days, he did not know what to do. The house was quiet again, but this time it felt heavier. Bills started to pile up. The fridge slowly became empty. He understood one thing clearly — no one was coming to save him.
He had to work.
Garayon went from place to place asking for a job. Offices rejected him. Shops rejected him. They all said the same thing.
"You're too young."
"You're still a minor"
"You're not graduated."
"Come back when you're older."
After many days of walking through cold streets and hearing the same answer again and again, he finally found work at a meat factory on the edge of town.
They needed a butcher.
On his first day, the smell hit him before he even entered the building. The air was thick with the scent of raw meat and iron-like blood. The floors were wet. The walls were stained. The sound of machines and metal tools filled the space.
For a moment, Garayon felt sick.
He wanted to leave.
But he stayed, even if it got worse.
Two workers approached him. One was tall and quiet, with sharp eyes. His name was Saim. The other, Jaif, was a little short and spoke more, trying to make jokes to lighten the mood.
"First day?" Jaif asked with a small smile.
Garayon nodded.
"Don't worry," Saim said calmly. "You'll get used to it."
They showed him how to hold the knife properly. How to cut cleanly. How to move quickly without wasting motion. They helped him when his hands shook. They told him where to stand and what to avoid.
The first week was hard. The smell stayed in his clothes even after washing. His hands felt sore every night. Sometimes he would sit on his bed and stare at the ceiling, wondering how his life had changed so fast.
But he did not complain.
Days turned into weeks.
Garayon improved. His cuts became clean and precise. He moved with more confidence. The factory no longer made him feel sick. It became routine.
Saim respected his quiet focus. Jaif treated him like a younger brother. During breaks, they would sit together and drink tea from metal cups. Sometimes they talked about small things. Sometimes they just sat in silence.
For the first time since losing his parents, Garayon did not feel completely alone.
Then one day, everything changed.
It was late afternoon. The machines were running as usual. Workers were focused on their tasks. Suddenly, loud crashing sounds echoed from the entrance.
Shouting followed.
Before anyone could react, several masked men stormed inside the factory. They were holding metal rods and weapons. One even carried a gun.
Workers panicked.
Many screamed.
One of the attackers fired a shot into the ceiling. The sound was deafening. Dust fell from above. The machines stopped.
They had cut the electricity
Garayon's heart began to race.
Saim grabbed his arm. "Stay behind me," he said firmly.
Jaif looked around, trying to understand what was happening. "This isn't normal, it's horrible " he whispered.
The attackers moved fast, breaking equipment and pushing workers to the ground, killing them! It did not look like a simple robbery, those were murders.
Garayon's hands trembled, but something inside him felt different.
He had already lost everything once.
He wasn't going to lose this too….