It was a fresh morning, and a light breeze passed through Novan's apartment window. Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door.
Novan opened it and found the old woman who lived next door, his longtime neighbor, standing there with a mysterious smile:
— "A girl left this box for you."
Novan's eyes widened in surprise:
— "Which girl?"
The old woman smiled and said:
— "I thought you knew her."
Novan carried the box into his apartment and placed it on the table. Despite his curiosity, he decided to postpone opening it until night, keeping the mystery alive.
He looked around his room and felt embarrassed by the mess he had grown accustomed to over the years: scattered clothes, books and papers lying around, and small tools here and there. He whispered to himself:
— "Why have I been so careless with myself? And why hasn't love entered my life?"
He began cleaning the room carefully, organizing the books, gathering the clothes, and wiping the tables. With each movement, Novan felt that the outer order reflected an inner sense of readiness and control. When he finished, he placed the box under the bed. Then he thought:
— "Maybe she has a lover… or maybe she doesn't care about me at all."
He then got dressed for work as a construction worker and left the apartment. At the worksite, he met his childhood friend, Ethan, who was like an older brother to him.
Ethan laughed and said:
— "I heard you went through a lot yesterday… some say you were drunk!"
Novan cut off his laughter and replied:
— "I went through some things… and now I think it was just a dream."
Suddenly, Novan felt Ethan's true intentions: he wanted to push him off the top of the building! Novan was shocked like never before. At the same time, he saw another intention in Ethan's heart: that Novan was a handsome, successful person, liked by girls, but Ethan feared someone would discover that he could cause Novan to fall, making people think it was suicide.
Novan decided to confront Ethan, using his ability to read people's intentions to anticipate his moves. They clashed; Novan tried to strike, but Ethan was strong and slapped him. Suddenly, Ethan's hand seemed to move as if from the future, pushing Novan in the stomach. But Novan smiled, anticipated the blow, dodged it, and hit Ethan—though his strength was weak against him.
At that moment, another construction worker arrived and said:
— "Guys, don't play around here… it's dangerous!"
After work, Novan returned to his apartment, thinking about what had happened:
— "Why did Ethan do this to me? He was my childhood friend…"
He took a warm shower, changed his clothes, and sat in front of the box, finally deciding to open it. When he lifted the lid, he found a pair of black gloves inside.
Novan laughed in surprise and said:
— "What am I supposed to do with these?"
---
Novan put on the black gloves cautiously. The moment his fingers slipped inside, he felt an overwhelming weight on his hands. He couldn't move his fingers freely, as if iron had poured into his skin. Every muscle in his arms began to tremble.
— "What… are these gloves?" he whispered hoarsely to himself.
He looked at the box again and noticed, for the first time, a small letter tucked in the corner that he had previously overlooked. Confused, he immediately removed the gloves, and as soon as he did, they felt light again, like ordinary cloth. He took a deep breath, reached for the letter, and untied the string around it.
He opened it slowly. The handwriting was elegant, the words adorned as if written with a strange pen:
> "From Morgan to the boy of this era,
These gloves will help you strike down the envious.
But they are too heavy for you now, so you must train to be able to wear them.
Go to the nearest gym for a full week.
At the end of the week, if you can endure the gloves, they will be yours…
And you will be mine."
Novan's breath quickened as he read the last line. His heart tightened, and a chill ran through his limbs. He whispered to himself:
— "Who is this Morgan? Does he have abilities too? Is he the old man? Or perhaps someone else is watching me?"
He closed the letter with trembling hands, eyes fixed on the black gloves as if they were a small beast waiting to pounce. For the first time, he felt that his future was not entirely his own.
Suddenly, he stood, holding the gloves in his hand, looked in the mirror, and said:
— "I won't run this time. I'll find out who Morgan is… I'll find out everything."
He left his apartment with the gloves and letter in his bag. On the street, people seemed ordinary, but he could see intentions colliding around them like lightning. He walked quickly toward the nearest gym in the neighborhood.
At the gym's entrance, he paused. The sounds of clanging weights filled the air, people lifting and straining, sweat gleaming on their arms. He smiled faintly and said:
— "Alright, Morgan… let's see who endures first."
Novan entered the gym and decided to start training immediately, a full week without interruption. All his thoughts were focused on making the gloves feel light on his hands… and ultimately, discovering who was behind this mystery.
After a full week of intense training, Novan was physically and mentally exhausted, but for the first time, the black gloves no longer felt as heavy as before. Every movement, every punch, every stretch and release felt natural, as if the gloves had become part of his hands.
He stood before the mirror, gloves on his hands, taking a deep breath:
— "Finally… I can endure them. They're mine… but what does this mean for me?"
During the week, Novan didn't only think about training. He heard news about the Four Reckless Ones everywhere: their bold acts, chaos, supernatural abilities, and sometimes cruelty. His heart tightened every time he heard a new incident about them, and he asked himself:
— "Are they evil… or just people who don't understand the limits of power? Could I be like them?"
A deeper question wandered in his mind: Good and evil… are they absolute? Or merely perspectives? Every intention he saw, every desire, every lie or act of loyalty made him wonder:
— "Can power make a person evil? Or does choice always remain ours?"
He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the black gloves, finally understanding something important: power itself is neither evil nor good… it is the one who wields it, and how it is used, that determines its fate.
Novan smiled to himself, more confident than ever:
— "Now… I'm ready. The gloves are part of me, but I control them, and I won't let anyone dominate me… or those I care about."
With this newfound confidence, Novan felt that a real journey had begun. The black gloves were no longer just a tool; they were a test of his strength and will, and a test of what he could become in a world full of mysterious powers and extraordinary abilities.
Inside him, the biggest question remained:
— "When will I face the Four Reckless Ones? And what will happen then?"
Suddenly, Novan found himself lifted into the air, his body floating uncontrollably as if his power was entirely restrained. He screamed, but his voice reached no one, and all movement around him stopped as if time itself had frozen.
John's ability controlled his body, lifting and suspending him effortlessly, as if an invisible force gripped him completely. Novan felt a terrible fear: Would he die? And what was their purpose in all this?
Don, observing closely, whispered to John:
— "Why are we capturing him? What does Des want? Is he really important to her?"
John smirked sarcastically:
— "Let's see what Des will say… maybe she's the only one who knows his true value."
Suddenly, Des intervened, her voice clear, eyes full of mystery:
— "You don't know anything about him yet… you'll be completely shocked when you find out who he really is."
Novan, though suspended and restrained, felt the weight of her words, as if they warned of a latent power within him that he had yet to realize. He tried to summon his inner strength, recalling the black gloves, focusing on enduring them and using them to regain control of his body.
Ban moved him left and right rapidly, while John gripped and pressed without mercy, and Des stood firm, watching as if she knew that no matter what happened, this boy would play a very important role in the future.
Novan whispered to himself:
— "If I can control these gloves… if I can read their intentions… maybe I'll understand why they want something from me, and who this mysterious girl is."
The scene ended with Novan concentrating all his energy, the Four Reckless Ones observing him with shock and tension, waiting for his next move, the atmosphere thick with danger and mystery.
Novan tried to resist, to move his hands or regain balance, but all efforts were in vain. Ban's power made his body float effortlessly, John's hand was tightened as if controlling his grip, and Don watched carefully, ensuring nothing escaped him.
Finally, they arrived at the headquarters of the Four Reckless Ones, a massive and mysterious building filled with shadows and strange devices. They placed Novan in an isolated room, fully chained with heavy iron chains, incapable of movement. At that moment, Novan realized how truly weak he was against these four, and how dangerous their abilities were.
Des entered, her sharp eyes gleaming with mystery and authority. She approached Novan and spoke coldly:
— "Alright… let's begin the interrogation."
She began using her ability, lightly pressing on Novan's nerves. The pressure was small, but he felt a sharp pain spreading throughout his body. He tried to scream, tried to move, but the pain cut his voice, his heart pounding violently.
Even John, Don, and Ban, standing beside her, felt concern:
— "Stop, she's too weak! She won't survive all this!"
But Des laughed hysterically, a laugh mixing mystery with sadism, continuing to press on his nerves, observing every response, every sign of pain on his face.
Novan, despite the intense pain, screamed at the top of his lungs:
— "Aaaah…! Stop… aaah…!"
But Des continued, speaking softly and mockingly:
— "Ah… aaah… this is only the beginning. Do you think you can resist me?"
Novan felt exhausted, his body swaying under the impact of pain, his mind screaming internally: How can he survive against them? How can he use the black gloves now while chained with iron chains restraining him?
The scene ended with Novan screaming in pain, Des's face approaching closer, smiling mysteriously and mockingly, leaving a feeling of terror to dominate the entire room.