The prison whispers had turned into warnings.Red-eyed. Soulless. A predator.
Seok-Hyun walked the yard like he owned nothing—but everything feared him. Every glance he gave, every step he took, carried the weight of inevitability.
Today, he had a target.
A group of inmates, mid-tier thugs, had been harassing weaker prisoners, mimicking the cruelty he'd suffered in his old life. Laughing as someone cried. Smirking as someone bled.
"They remind me of them," Seok-Hyun thought, dead-eyed. "And they'll pay the same way."
The yard went quiet as he approached.His dark red eyes scanned, calculating the angle, the opening.
The first thug lunged, thinking they could intimidate him.Seok-Hyun didn't dodge. He absorbed the hit, feeling it through his bones, then countered with a spinning elbow that slammed the man into the concrete like a hammer.
The others reacted—chains, fists, knives—but Seok-Hyun moved like a predator, untamed and merciless.He grappled, slammed, and twisted, hitting with the raw, primal power of a cave man, every strike instinctive, every blow fatal in its precision.
Blood sprayed. Bones cracked. Screams echoed.Yet through it all, Seok-Hyun's face remained dead, empty, soulless—the red of his eyes glowing faintly, like embers in darkness.
Within minutes, the group lay broken, groaning on the ground. No one dared approach him. No one dared speak.
He stepped over them, leaving the yard, calm as ever.
"No mercy. No hesitation. No weakness."
That night, in his cell, Seok-Hyun sat in silence.The red glow of his eyes reflected off the peeling paint."They are all marks. One by one, I will erase them. Not for justice, not for law… but for the rage that lives in my veins."
The whispers grew louder with each day.The dead-eyed boy wasn't just a fighter anymore.He was a predator stalking his prey, and the whole prison was beginning to understand—the hunt had begun.