Since my parents' deaths… I didn't know what to do. I was confused. I truly believed they were coming home that night. I thought they were being freed… but instead, they were killed.
The very next day, that same mysterious man appeared at our doorstep, offering hush money so I would never speak of what I saw.
I wanted to kill him… but the way I saw him take out those guards that day — in fact, I didn't even see him do it. They just died right in front of me. There was no way I stood a chance. And if I died, who would look after my family?
From that moment on, I was the man of the house.
But to just offer money after killing my parents… the cheek of it. Did their lives amount to nothing more than money to him?
Yet the mysterious man only wore a stoic expression as Gage rejected his offer.
"It's not just about you or how you're feeling," he said calmly. "Don't you think your siblings could use the money, now that you no longer have financial backing from your parents?"
"I don't need your blood money! I've still got my grandma! She's going to be here!"
"Your grandma? Grandma Suzu?" the mysterious man replied.
Gage's eyes widened in shock.
"How do you know—"
Before he could finish, he was cut off.
"Using her pension (retirement money) to support all of you, including herself? She'll have nothing left."
He knows Grandma?! How close was he to Mum and Dad… and despite that, he still killed them? I clenched my fists, grinding my teeth as I fought back tears.
Even after I refused, he left the money with us — a huge amount that could have lasted until we were fully grown adults. But I haven't touched it. It's still locked away in storage. There's no way I could use it. No freaking way.
Grandma eventually moved in with us, and I felt guilty watching her use her pension to provide for us while I knew there was a fortune hidden in the house. But I just couldn't bring myself to use it… it didn't feel right. It still doesn't.
So I began helping at home — cooking, cleaning, looking after my siblings — doing everything I could so Grandma wouldn't have to carry the burden alone.
However, the stigma of our parents being thieves never faded. Shame and slander fell upon our family. The public, the neighbours — they bullied us, mocked us, cursed us.
Each insult cut deeper than the last, and the more I heard them, the more I lashed out. They didn't understand what a parent is willing to do to protect their children.
Yet whenever they called Mum and Dad thieves, Dad's words echoed inside me:
"Never in your life steal! Do not take what doesn't belong to you. Do you hear me? But if something belongs to you… don't let anyone steal it — your identity, who you are, your morals, your personality… those belong to you. If anyone takes them, you go get them back. That isn't stealing. It was yours in the first place."
Those words have lingered with me ever since that day…
What did Dad truly mean?
But as that time came, because of my parents' reputation and my huge body, people would try to cause trouble for me. Anytime I reacted, they either became scared or expected me to become angry — to turn violent, to become a criminal like my parents.
This happened over and over again… being teased, being provoked… almost like I was being tested to play a role. A role everyone kept telling me I was, just because of my parents and how I looked.
A bad guy.
I didn't ask for this big body… and if I could make one wish, it would be that my parents had normal jobs. I would have definitely preferred that — because they would still be alive.
I never asked for any of this.
I was just born into this position.
However, I still tried to resist it… until one day.
Walking home after Grandma Suzu asked me to do her a favour and pick up some groceries, I saw Richy defending another kid who looked about our age. He stood in front of them with his arms stretched out.
The one disturbing them was a boy around the same age, wearing a breathing mask — meaning he couldn't flex.
Not knowing what was going on, I ran toward them, trying to understand the situation.
Suddenly, I saw Richy take a nasty punch from the masked boy, sending him flying.
Why?
Why is this happening? Why is Richy getting punched?
Richy is a sweet boy. He would never hurt anyone… so why is he the one being hurt?
Suddenly, a distorted version of Gage whispered behind his ear. It was as if the whole world froze.
"That's the problem… he's too sweet for this world." The distorted figure said as his words lick the earlobes of Gage.
"Huh?" Gage responded.
"In this world, the good guys never win… and the bad guys succeed." the distorted figured uttered.
"Why?"
"It's just the way things are. Your parents were killed, yet no one checked on you — but they still expect you to become a criminal like them."
"Why?" Gage asked again, searching for an answer.
"Everyone judges you just from how you look. They assume you should be strong… or violent."
"Why?" Gage responded, his expression beginning to distort.
"It's just the way it is."
"The way it is?" Gage repeated.
"Yep. So you might as well become what they already think you are… if you want to survive."
"Bu-but—"
"Or do you want to be a victim forever?"
"Victim?" Gage repeated.
"Your parents were victims. Do you want to be next? And if you're gone… who will look after your siblings?"
In that moment, something inside Gage snapped.
He charged at the boy who attacked his brother and beat the living hell out of him — so brutally that the neighbours bore witness and immediately called the Current Watchers on him.
"FROM NOW ON, THIS IS MY TURF! IF I SEE ANYONE I DON'T RECOGNISE HERE… YOU'LL END UP LIKE HIM!"
Since then, it had been nonstop — children of similar age fighting back to back, causing disruption throughout the neighbourhood.
Yet even as Gage gained respect from kids his age who could flex, and instilled fear into his opposition… he was never happy.
He was ashamed.
Everything his father had taught him had been denied by his own hands. The guilt secretly ate away at him, but he pushed it under the rug, forcing himself to forget.
Reality snaps back. Gage lies on the floor, chest heaving, while Gadeon looms above him, eyes locked onto his. The echoes of the past fade, replaced by the immediacy of the present fight.
"You ready to come back with me?" Gadeon said.
"What round is this?" Gage asked, confusing Gadeon. "Last time you said round two… right?"
Gadeon didn't respond. He was still trying to understand what Gage meant.
"Then it's time for the third and final round."
"This is dragging now. At this point, the others are waiting for us—"
Before he could finish, Gage rose to his feet.
His eyes were no longer the same as before.
A fire had been lit.
He stepped into his stance.
No more trying to forget.
No more trying to be someone I'm not.
Today… I kill that other version of me.