The rain hit the rooftop like bullets-sharp, cold, relentless.Somewhere beyond the storm, the city lit up in flashing sirens and neon lies, but inside the black marble mansion, silence reigned.
Until--
"Boss, it's her."
The words hung in the air like a curse.
He didn't look up at first. His hands- scarred, beautiful, dangerous-tightened around the glass of whiskey, the ice inside clinking softly, like chains dragging in the dark.
His eyes slowly lifted. Grey. Cold. Ghosted.
He said nothing.
The man Infront of him-his most trusted lieutenant-lowered his gaze, heart thundering in fear. No one talked about her. No one dared.
Because when they did, the devil in him woke up.
His chair creaked softly as he leaned back, staring into nothing. The ghost was already there before the silence finished echoing.
She always came when the past tried to rise.
A translucent figure in a blood-red hanbok floated beside him, eyes shining like stormlight, her fingers barely brushing his shoulder.
"Don't," she whispered, voice like crushed petals. "You promised me. No more bleeding for her."
But his jaw was clenched now. His eyes were somewhere else-a place where broken things were born and boys never got to grow up.
THIRTEEN YEARS AGO
He had no name back then. just a number:SUBJECT 49.
The basement was dark, always dark. Screams didn't echo-they were swallowed.lights flickered like dying stars.And everynight, the lock clicked, and monsters in human skin walked in.
They said he was beautiful. They said boys like him didn't deserve, innocence.
The first time he screamed, nobody came.
The second time he didn't. That's when she came.
He was curled in a corner, bleeding, whispering prayers to a god he didn't believe in.
And then, a cold hand touched his cheek.
"Do you want to die?"She asked.
He looked up. She wasn't like the others. She was glowing faintly, wearing red, with eyes like he'd never seen before. Sad. Angry. Ancient.
He nodded. "Yes."
She smiled.
"Too bad, I didn't save you so you could give up."
That was the first time anyone had ever saved him.
That night, when the monsters came again, they left screaming.
And one of them never left at all.
Her name was AURELA.
She died in that place. Tortured. Forgotten.
But her soul stayed behind-and she chose to protect the boy who still had breath in lungs and fire in his bones.
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PRESENT DAY.
The whiskey glass shattered in his hand.
The lieutenant jumped.
"Clean it," the mafia lord said blankly.
"And leave."
The man bowed and ran.
The ghost sat on the edge of his desk, arms crossed. "She's back?"
"she never left," he murmured. "not really. Not from my head."
Aurela watched him quietly, like she always did- like she had for the last thirteen years. "Then burn her memory. You've got an empire now. Blood for blood. Power for pain."
"No," he said. "She doesn't deserve my rage. She deserves to watch me thrive."
Then, a pause.
His voice softened-only for her.
"But you...you deserve everything."
She smiled, almost tearfully.
"I already have it. You."
He walked toward the window, watching the rain kiss the glass. Below, the city moved like prey-oblivious, desperate, greedy. The mafia called SERON VALE, but on the streets they whispered something else:
THE HOLLOW PRINCE.
Because behind that empire, behind the guns and glory, lived a boy who had died thirteen times in thirteen nights.
And one ghost who refused to let him go.
He touched the scar near his collarbone-a cruel little crescent-gifted by the girl he once loved.
The one who betrayed him.
The one who sold him.
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THIRTEEN YEARS AGO...
Her name was YENA.
She wore innocence like perfume-Sweet, Sugary, Overwhelming.
He trusted her.
He would've burned the world for her.
And she sold him for ten silver coins and a way out of her own mess.
When the men came, she didn't cry.
When they dragged him away, she didn't look back.
But Aurela did.
Aurela screamed.
And the boy became a beast.
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A knock.
This time, it wasn't his lieutenant.
it was a small envelope-slipped under the door like a death threat. No name. Just the symbol etched in blood: a serpent coiled around a girl's wrist.
His hands trembled for moment.
Not from fear.
From recognition.
From memory.
From the rage he buried every single night just to survive morning.
Aurela floated closer, touching the envelope.
"She dares," she whispered.
His jaw clenched. "Let her."
A cruel glint in his eye.
"Let her walk into the lion's den. Let her see What she created."
And outside, in the dark alleyways of a city that forgot to dream, whispers were rising.
The devil of the underworld had stirred.
And the girl who sold his soul for silver?
She was about to find out what it costs to betray a boy who loved her.
Because he didn't just survive.
He became her worst nightmare.
TO BE CONTINUED...