A framed photo hung on the wall, her last picture. Fallen's mother, still smiling, frozen in time.
Fallen stood in front of it, taller now. Seventeen had passed quickly, but today—today he turned eighteen.
"I wish you could've stayed longer," he whispered, fingertips brushing the edge of the frame. "Spent more time… just one more day."
A breeze flowed gently through the open window, fluttering the curtains like soft breaths in a quiet room.
Behind him, the door creaked open.
His father stood at the threshold, wearing the same expression he always did—calm, unreadable. Years of responsibility carved into his face.
"Your car is waiting, Fallen," he said.
Fallen turned. "Okay, Father. I'm coming."
He gave the photo one last look. "Bye, Mom."
As he passed, his father paused him with a quiet voice. "When you come back, we need to talk."
Fallen hesitated. "Alright."
Then he was gone.
Outside, a black taxi idled near the gate. Rain from the previous night still clung to the streets, catching sunlight like shattered glass. Fallen slipped into the back seat, his thoughts distant as the car pulled away.
---
Inside the house, his father walked down the hallway with steady steps. The silence wasn't empty—it was full of history, memories, regrets. He opened the door to his office.
Inside sat the same doctor from long ago—the one who had been at Fallen's birth. Time had touched him gently. His hair was grayer now, his shoulders slightly more bent, but his eyes still held that quiet sharpness of someone who had seen too much and said too little.
"So," the doctor began as he poured himself tea from a small kettle resting on the side table, "today's the day."
Fallen's father remained quiet, standing by the window, watching raindrops that hadn't yet dried.
"What you didn't tell your wife…" the doctor continued. "You're finally going to tell your son?"
A long pause filled the room. The only sound was the faint clink of porcelain as the doctor set his cup down.
"…Hmm." That was all Fallen's father said. Neither confirmation nor denial.
The doctor sighed and leaned back. "You know it won't be easy. Once he learns the truth, there's no turning back."
"I know."
"I still remember the day he was born. You looked like a man about to break."
"I did break," the father muttered, eyes far away. "I just never showed it."
A silence deeper than words settled between them. Then—
Click.
The sound of boots.
Heavy.
Deliberate.
Footsteps echoed in the hallway outside, slow and sharp, like time itself marking each second.
The doctor and Fallen's father both turned toward the door. A shadow fell beneath it—broad shoulders, a tall frame. Whoever it was, he wasn't hiding.
Then came the voice—gravelly, cold, but laced with something darker than hatred.
"Long time no see… No.1."
Fallen's father froze.
The doctor gripped the armrest of his chair.
And outside, the wind howled against the glass as if the world itself had felt a shift.
---
To be contnue