Charles Mikond, a sixteen-year-old boy, was nothing more than a pathetic loser living in a decaying neighborhood long forgotten by time. The streets of Peckland District were filled with addicts, pimps, and prostitutes standing on nearly every filthy corner.
His life was miserable to the point of nausea and sickness. All of it traced back to a strange incident that had happened in his childhood—an incident that made people call him the cursed child.
The way the residents of the neighborhood treated him was full of contempt and disdain, mixed with oppression and bullying. If he had been strong, no one would have dared even look at him that way.
But his weakness wasn't the only reason.
Since the age of six, he had lived alone in a crumbling house that once belonged to his parents, who had died years ago. His greedy relatives constantly watched him, waiting for the right moment, coveting the house and the small piece of land his parents had left behind. Their greed only made people treat him with even more cruelty.
Charles survived on a small allowance provided by the government—barely enough for food and water. Even buying a single cigarette could mean skipping dinner that night.
His parents had died in a mysterious incident. People whispered that he had been the cause of it.
But he had only been a child. He had done nothing wrong.
Sometimes he wondered…
What if he had never met that man?
What if he had never shown him the house?
"All of this happened because of him."
Those were the words he often heard from his uncle and aunt. Soon after his parents' deaths, they began spreading rumors across the neighborhood that Charles was responsible for the tragedy, hoping to claim everything his parents had left behind.
The man who came that day was a complete stranger to the neighborhood. No one had ever seen him before. Yet even the mere sight of his back filled young Charles with an inexplicable fear.
Ten years ago…
Six-year-old Charles stood in front of his house, kicking a ball by himself. There were no other children around.
He truly looked like a lonely child.
After one of his kicks, the ball rolled toward the entrance of the street. Charles ran after it with the innocent smile of a child, his unique white hair falling softly over his eyes.
He finally reached the ball and bent down to pick it up.
But when he lifted his head, a long shadow covered his small body.
Slowly, he looked up.
A man stood in front of him, wearing a long black coat that reached his knees and tight blue jeans. In one hand, he held a bag firmly between his fingers.
Charles looked at the man's face.
The moment their eyes met, his body trembled violently. A terrifying sense of fear and danger filled his heart.
The man's face was cold, devoid of any smile. His expression was stern as he spoke slowly.
"Kid… I'm looking for the Mikond family's house. Can you show me the way?"
Charles froze in place. His lips refused to move, as if he had turned into stone.
With a trembling hand, he pointed down the street toward a two-story house painted in a fading white-brown color. Decorations hung near the front door.
The mysterious man glanced at him briefly before walking past him toward the house.
When he reached the door, he knocked with calm, rhythmic taps.
The door opened almost immediately, and the man stepped inside as if the person inside had been expecting him.
Moments later, a man in his forties with silver-white hair stepped outside. He looked around as though searching for something before his eyes landed on Charles.
"Hey, son. Play a little more, but don't go far."
"Okay, Dad."
Charles answered, slowly recovering from the shock the stranger had left him with.
Half an hour passed.
Charles continued kicking the ball around the street.
Then suddenly—
The door of the house burst open.
Thick smoke poured out from inside.
It looked like a fire had started in the house.
Panicking, Charles ran toward the door, shouting for his parents. He rushed up the steps—
But the stranger suddenly appeared before him.
His chest was bare, his long coat torn apart, and his hat was gone. His face was now fully visible, covered with bruises and wounds as if he had just come out of a violent fight.
"Where are my mom and dad?!"
Charles asked with a trembling voice, fear mixing with terror at the thought that something terrible had happened to them.
The man looked at him with pure disgust.
Without warning, he raised his leg and kicked Charles violently in the stomach.
The child's body flew backward and crashed into the wall of the house across the street.
Charles groaned in pain as he struggled to lift his head.
The stranger slowly walked toward him with unsteady steps.
He bent down, grabbed Charles by the head, and lifted him into the air.
Looking at the boy with cold disdain, he spoke.
"My name is Alfie Christopher… and I come from the Hollow Earth."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"When you seek revenge… come find me there."
Then he released Charles's head.
The boy's body collapsed to the ground.
The words of the mysterious man—the one who had killed his parents for reasons unknown—echoed in Charles's ears…
Until darkness consumed him.