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.
For two years now, the world had been facing a phenomenon as terrifying as it was inexplicable. Hundreds of people vanished mysteriously, all around the globe, overnight, without leaving the slightest trace.
Rich, poor, no social class was spared from the plague.
The great world organizations, like the UN or INTERPOL, gathered the best scientists and researchers from across the globe to try to understand the phenomenon, launching vast worldwide investigations.
But nothing worked. They were untraceable.
Overwhelmed, incapable of understanding and even less of explaining what was happening, people everywhere drowned in a flood of rumors.
It was chaos on the Internet. Forums and social networks exploded with theories, each one more far-fetched than the last.
Alien abductions, secret experiments, imminent apocalypse…
The media screamed horror.
Every day, somewhere in the world, someone disappeared.
And then one day, the phenomenon stopped.
Governments, exhausted, drained of their resources, abandoned the searches. The missing were officially declared dead. In the absence of bodies, large monuments, sorts of modern black Alexandrias, were erected in every capital of the world. Their names were carved there, like scars in stone.
These memorials became sanctuaries where families and loved ones gathered, laid flowers, prayed, wept.
In the end, everyone had to accept it. To be able to keep moving forward.
Today, even if the phenomenon has ceased, its shadow still looms over humanity, like a silent ghost. Everyone fears a second wave.
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 Seoul's grand station.
It was immense, modern, with its glass-and-metal architecture. A true showcase of progress. Inside, it was the usual chaos. The station swarmed with people.
The sound of footsteps echoed everywhere.
Announcements from loudspeakers overlapped.
Voices crossed, superimposed.
A constant uproar. People passed, repassed, each minding their business.
Ken Jinheon descended the stairs leading to the platforms, ready to board his train. But a sudden crash, coming from a corridor to his right, caught his attention. Forcing him to stop.
"Bastard, you wanna die or what?!"
"I told you to bring smokes, didn't I?"
"You really don't value your life, huh…?"
A group of students had formed a half-circle around a frail boy, pale-skinned, with a fleeing gaze. His uniform was crumpled, his shirt half out of his pants. He clutched his bag against him like a pathetic shield.
Five bullies, each bigger than him, surrounded him. And at the center, slightly back, their leader: a boy with bleached hair, a mocking smile on his lips, his eyes shining with a sickly gleam. He didn't speak, he observed. Like a master letting his dogs play before biting.
Ken, half-hidden behind a wall, watched in silence, not wanting to clearly get involved.
One of the thugs snatched the boy's bag and threw it against a wall. Another shoved him violently to the ground, kicking him in the stomach, making the boy flinch in pain.
"Look at me when I talk to you, insect."
"Finish quickly with this trash before someone arrives." said the boy with bleached hair, arms crossed, a cruel smile on his lips.
That boy was Do-wan. Heir to a powerful family, his father, an influential CEO, was one of the main partners of the school Ken attended. Thanks to that, Do-wan enjoyed a certain impunity. He indulged in repeated acts of violence without ever being worried. A sadist, who took perverse pleasure in crushing the weak.
And his favorite toy… was this pretty frail boy with a fine face, curled on the ground, gaze empty.
"In fact, I've changed my mind. I'll teach you to obey myself." added Do-wan, licking his lips perversely.
"I know you prefer when it's me who does it…"
He approached dangerously, grabbed the boy by the hair, and raised his hand, ready to slap him.
But a feminine voice, clear and firm, interrupted him instantly.
"Do-wan! What are you doing here?"
He immediately let go, straightened up, hands in the air, innocent expression.
A beautiful young girl stood before them. Gorgeous, with a delicate, angel-like face, hands on her hips, fixing them with a severe look.
"Nothing, dear president. I just wanted to help our comrade who fell by accident." he replied with a false angelic smile.
Then, he turned to the frail boy, his voice heavy with threatening undertones:
"Isn't that right, Jae-sung?"
"Y-yes… it was an accident. My shoelace was untied… I tripped…"
"He just wanted to help me, president…"
The boy, visibly terrified, slowly got up, dusting off his uniform.
But the young girl wasn't fooled. She glanced at the supposedly untied laces, perfectly knotted. She silently analyzed the boy's injuries. They weren't the kind you get from falling.
Her face froze. She clenched her fists, anger rising. But before she could speak, an announcement resounded from the loudspeakers:
"Passengers of the last train to Busan, please proceed to the platform."
"Well, president, see you on the train," Do-wan threw with a honeyed smile, before disappearing with his gang.
As soon as they were out of sight, the young girl quickly approached Jae-sung, pulled a small kit from her bag, and began cleaning his wounds.
"Are you really okay?
Tss… Seriously, they go too far. I'll report everything to the teachers…"
"No! No, it's… it's not worth it, president. I told you I just fell." he cried, panicked, his voice trembling.
She fixed him for a moment, silent, her eyes full of gravity.
"Ouch! Why did you hit me?" he groaned, rubbing his head.
She leaned closer, gently placed her hand on his cheek. He blushed instantly, surprised by such tenderness.
"Next time they bother you, come to me immediately. The student council is here to handle this kind of problem."
A heavy silence settled.
Then she continued, soft but firm:
"Don't carry all this alone. If you need help, you know… I'm here."
Jae-sung's eyes widened. Those simple words were enough to warm his heart, he who was usually ignored by all.
"Thank you… president…" he said, trying with all his strength to hold back the tears welling in his eyes, hiding his face behind his arm.
"Huh? You're crying?!"
"…"
Snif… Snif…
"Forgive me… I'm so pathetic… I can't even control myself…"
The young girl crossed her arms over her chest, closed her eyes for a moment. Then let out a heavy sigh.
"It's not a problem. Take this trip to change. And to reflect. And when you're ready to talk, come see me. I'll help you as best I can. Because that's my duty."
She paused briefly.
"Remember this well: being weak is not a shame. The real shame is to stay that way while knowing it."
"Come on, let's go. We'll be late for roll call."
"Yes!" he answered, tears still in his eyes.
Suddenly, she stopped, slightly turned her head, and threw a glance over her shoulder. She scanned the end of the corridor, as if something had disturbed her…
"What is it, president?" asked Jae-sung.
…Nothing. I thought I saw something.
***
"Wah… this train is gigantic!" exclaimed a student, mouth wide open in front of the luxurious locomotive.
"We're really going to ride in that? I mean, I hope…" added timidly a girl in the crowd of gathered students.
"Silence, everyone! In line! Boarding will begin soon. Come here for roll call!"
A beautiful and elegant instructor suddenly appeared before the crowd of students, holding documents in her hand. She wore a white long-sleeved shirt and a long black skirt. Her face bore a serious expression. With an authoritative voice, she declared:
"Before anything else, 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."
"You, elite students, come from all classes combined. Since our school system is based on meritocracy, that is why you were chosen to live this privileged moment."
She paused briefly, her gaze slowly sweeping over the crowd of students. A sly smile drew on her lips, then she continued, her voice dripping with sarcasm:
"As long as your results match the prestige and grandeur of our high school, you will have access to more privileges and luxuries than some of you may ever know in your lives."
"Just call us poor, while you're at it…" muttered a student, bitter and sarcastic.
"You're right, I think she looks prettier when she shuts up."
The instructor continued her speech, indifferent to the bitter stares of some students.
"The director, glory to him, attaches great importance to rewarding work and excellence with the honors they deserve."
Then, in a lower tone, almost discreet, without realizing it, puffing her chest with pride, hands on her hips, she let slip:
"It's only natural… humf… You don't give diamonds to pigs."
"Oops…" She paused briefly, noticing the dark looks of some students glaring at her, then cleared her throat harshly, realizing she had "maybe" gone too far, and resumed more calmly, quickly changing the subject.
"Tomorrow morning, we will arrive in Busan. You will be housed at the Paradise Hotel, one of the most prestigious establishments in the country. Then, we will visit several research centers, like the…"
The students' eyes widened in shock, their faces frozen in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, unable to believe what they had just heard.
"Wait… wait… My head hurts. Isn't that the hotel where a night costs over 400,000 won?!"
"What… You mean we'll sleep in a place my parents couldn't afford even with all their savings?!"
The truth behind the students' excitement was that most had never even dreamed of setting foot in such a place. A single night in that 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 doesn't mean you can slack off," cut the instructor sharply.
"You represent the elite of our high school. So behave as such."
But the students, already swept away by the excitement of this extraordinary school trip, no longer listened to a word of the beautiful woman before them. The instructor let out a heavy sigh at the indifference of these youths, then cast a quick glance at her watch before declaring:
"We will now begin roll call. I will name you one by one. Once done, you will board."