Morning came with a heavy silence.
The kind of silence that happens before a storm.
His mother woke slowly, rubbing her eyes.She didn't remember her dream—but he did.
The name she whispered…
Dojin.
He sat quietly on the blanket, staring at her as she stretched.
"Good morning, baby…" she murmured, smiling softly.
He didn't answer—just observed.
Her eyes held exhaustion… and a sadness that had no clear source.
He filed it away quietly.
Something about his fatherand the businessmanwas connected.
A thread tied between past and present.
But the thread was still tangled.
After breakfast, his mother received a message.
Not from Mirin.Not from a neighbor.
From an unknown number.
She frowned and tapped it open.
I would like to meet with you privately.— Kang Dojin
Her hands shook violently.The toddler tilted his head.
Her breathing quickened.
"No… no… why…?"
She dropped the phone onto the table as if it burned her.
He crawled closer and tugged her sleeve.
She whispered,
"I don't want to see him…"
But why?
Because he was powerful?Because he seemed dangerous?Because he saw too much?
Or because the name "Dojin"felt like a knife in her heart?
He didn't know.Not yet.
But he would find out.
At noon, chaos erupted in the hallway.
"GET OUT! YOU'RE EVICTED!""You can't stay here anymore!""I won't leave! THIS IS MY SHOP!""You haven't paid rent in FOUR MONTHS!"
The landlord and the sewing shop owner were screaming again.
His mother held him tightly as they listened.
The teenage boy yelled in frustration:
"Dad, stop! We lost the shop! JUST STOP!"
But the father—broken, angry, desperate—made one final mistake.
He blamed her.
Again.
He roared at the top of his lungs:
"THIS WOMAN DESTROYED MY LIFE!I'LL MAKE SURE SHE REGRETS IT!"
The entire hallway fell silent.
His mother froze.
The toddler's small hands clenched.
This was no longer frustration.No longer drunken words.This was a threat.
A real one.
The kind of threat that grows into tragedy if ignored.
He watched the sewing shop owner storm back into his unit, knocking things over.
The teenage boy apologized softly to the neighbors.
But it was too late.
The man had crossed a line there was no returning from.
That evening, after a tense day, his mother decided to take him out for a short walk to calm her nerves.
They went to the small playground behind the apartment—a place he rarely visited.
The swings were old.The slide was rusty.But it was quiet.
Peaceful.
For a few minutes.
Until footsteps approached from behind.
Heavy.Staggering.Dangerous.
His mother's face blanched.
The sewing shop owner.
Drunk.Eyes red.Breath reeking of alcohol and rage.
"You…" he growled. "You ruined me…"
She backed up, gripping the stroller.
"S-Sir, please, stay away—"
He lurched forward.
His hand grabbed her arm.
Not gently.
Not accidentally.
Hard.
Painfully.
"M-My son is here!" she cried.
"I don't CARE!" he shouted. "YOU'RE the reason my family is falling apart!"
His mother begged him to stop.
He didn't hear her.
He didn't care.
He raised his hand as if he might strike her.
And at that moment—
Before anyone else could react—
The toddler climbed out of the stroller.
Stumbled forward.
And put himself between them.
A tiny body blocking a grown man's attack.
His mother screamed:
"No! No, baby, move—!"
But he didn't move.
He looked up at the drunk man with cold, emotionless eyes.
Eyes that didn't belong to a toddler.
He said one word:
"Enough."
The sewing shop owner froze.
The boy's voice wasn't loud.It wasn't angry.
It was commanding.
Too commanding.
For a split second—the man's drunken fog cleared.
He saw the child.Really saw him.
Not as a baby.Not as prey.But as something else.
Something dangerous.
Something terrifying.
He stumbled backward, breath shaking.
"What… what ARE you…?"
The toddler didn't answer.
This wasn't the time.
This was a warning.
His mother grabbed him tightly, tears falling from her cheeks.
She turned to run—
But someone else arrived first.
A firm voice cut through the tension:
"Step away from them."
The old man from the third floor stood at the entrance of the playground, holding a sturdy wooden cane.
His face was calm.His posture steady.His eyes cold.
Even in old age, some men carried the aura of someone who had survived storms.
The sewing shop owner stumbled back.
"W-Why are you here, old man?"
"Because you crossed the line," the old man said quietly. "Again."
He tapped his cane once.
A threat.
A warning.
A promise.
"Touch them again," he said, "and I'll make sure you lose more than your shop."
The sewing shop owner panicked and staggered away.
Cowards always run when confronted by someone stronger.
His mother sank to her knees, sobbing, hugging her son tightly.
The old man approached slowly.
"…Are you hurt?"
She shook her head, still crying.
The toddler looked at the old man with deep respect.
The old man knelt carefully.
"You're brave, little one," he said quietly.
The toddler simply blinked.
When they returned home safely, exhausted and shaken, his mother checked her phone again.
Another message from Dojin.
If anyone hurts you again,tell me.I will handle it.— D.K.
Her hands trembled.
Why… why was he involved?
Was it kindness?
Business?
Interest?
Or something else?
She whispered:
"Why is he doing this…?"
The toddler already knew:
Powerful men never move without purpose.
That night, she hugged her child tightly as she lay on the thin mattress.
But something was different.
Something had shifted in her heart.
Before, she saw him as her baby.
Now…after seeing him confront danger,after hearing him speak with clarity,after watching him stand between her and violence…
She realized something:
Her son wasn't normal.
But he wasn't cursed.
He wasn't unnatural.
He was a miracle.
A gift.
A protector.
She whispered into his hair:
"You're all I have…and I'll become strong for you.No matter what."
He closed his eyes.
But he wasn't sleeping.
Because now he understood something too:
His mother wasn't just a victim.She was becoming someone powerful.Someone worth protecting.Someone who deserved a better life.
And he would build that life.
Piece by piece.
Enemy by enemy.
Step by step.