Rachel Wang thought she knew what it meant to fight for justice, but the lines between hero and villain blur when she joins Nexus Law Firm. Being in dual roles as both a lawyer and a detective, she's told, "𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 24 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘭�...
'This is not a home, n̶o̶t̶ a̶n̶y̶m̶o̶r̶e̶. I was just a child. I didn't need to be stronger, I needed to be protected.'
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'Mom, Dad, was I so bad that you couldn't protect me?' She sat on the floor, recalling the horrors of just an hour ago, looking at her parents. 'I'm just a child, only 14.' Biting marks, scratches, and dried blood marred her entire body. She glanced back and forth between her parents and the dying figure on the floor, taking its final breaths. Its head was turned away, the body lying next to a little 5-year-old boy who had somehow a bit of idea what his sister had just done. She was marked, not with the innocence of childhood but with unimaginable horror.
Society was filled with filth—not everyone, but far too many—and fate had delivered her into the hands of one such creature. Even nature wept at the scene; a little girl's childhood was stolen brutally, not only by those monstrous fiends but even by her father. How terrifying it was that the one meant to protect her was the one who shattered her heart. The little girl kept staring at her sister, who had just severed the man's head to protect her younger sibling, but it was too late. She had failed to preserve her sister's light. How could she ever forgive herself?
"You both deserve to rot in hell! How selfish can you be? You sold your daughter? Your fucking flesh and blood? Even Satan recoils from sinners like you." Her voice trembled with rage. She was the little girl's older sister; if not her, then who? She had to protect her at any cost. The younger one had a bright future awaiting her.
Dropping the weapon stained with vengeance, she moved closer to the little girl, pulling her into an embrace that was both loving and bloodstained. "I'm sorry, Rachel. I failed to protect your childhood." As she spoke those words, the little one broke down in her arms. It was a heart-wrenching sight—sisterly love eclipsing parental betrayal.
'It's okay, Yeonie. I still love you.' Behind them, the scene of horror had ended. But the cruelest reality was that this wasn't a movie; it was real life. Tears of vengeance fell from the elder sister's eyes, while the parents remained silent, unrepentant, as if they were the picture-perfect couple everyone dreams of. 'Seo-yeon! Know your place! How dare you speak to us like that? ' Her mother seized a handful of her hair, forcibly pulling her away from the embrace of her sister. "What do you even do around here? Just consume and idle in this house. We're the ones putting food on your plate and a roof over your head," her mother spat.
"Oh, really? And what exactly do you contribute? Spend your nights pleasing guys at bars, leaving your wretched wicked husband to fend for himself and us?" Seo-yeon pointed accusingly at her father, who hung his head in feigned remorse. In reality, he was just another lecherous predator, preying on vulnerable girls and discarding them like refuse.
"SEO-YEON!" Her mother's hand cracked against her face, followed by a barrage of blows raining down upon her like a tempest. Little Rachel, trembling with fear and helplessness, could only cry out in despair. Oh, cruel fate, how mercilessly you deal with your hand. Did she truly deserve this torment?
The brutal clash between Seo-yeon and her mother only ceased when the clock struck noon, a harsh reminder that her mother had work to attend to. "What a worthless child I raised!" her mother spat, delivering one final blow before pulling her hair into a bun and storming out.
"Yeonie, are you okay?" Little Rachel's voice trembled, her heart breaking at the sight of her older sister's battered form. Blood oozed from numerous wounds, yet Seo-yeon forced herself to stay conscious. She had to, for her sister and the 7-year-old boy who depended on her.
"Ah, I'm okay, sweetie. Just a little scratch," Seo-yeon whispered, her angelic face marred by bruises and dried blood. The torment had paused, not ended.
"No, you're not! Stop lying. Let me get the first aid," Little Rachel insisted, her tear-streaked face flushed with worry. Her eyes, bright red like Rudolph's nose, conveyed a thousand untold stories. She hurried to fetch the kit, leaving Seo-yeon to collapse back onto the floor. She stared at the ceiling fan, its endless rotations offering a rare, soothing breeze in the stifling room.
"Please, Dad, no! Spare her, please. She's only 12!" Seo-yeon had pleaded desperately, trying to fend off her monstrous father as he advanced on Little Rachel with vile intentions.
"Fuck off, you little bitch!" he had snarled, shoving Seo-yeon aside. Her head struck the door, and she slipped unconsciousness.
"Yeonie? Yeonie?" Little Rachel's voice brought her back to the present, the first aid kit in hand. The horrific scenes had been flashing before Seo-yeon's eyes, unwelcome memories replaying like a broken TV stuck in a nightmare. Those flashbacks were a part of her now, as ingrained as salt in the sea. No matter how much she tried to wash them away, they surged back relentlessly, leaving her broken, desperate, and petrified.
In the heart of a dilapidated house, far removed from the warmth of love and security, lived a family shrouded in shadows. The air inside was thick with unspoken pain, a suffocating fog that clung to every corner. At the centre of this toxic household was Little Rachel, a fragile flower wilting in the dark.
31st March, 2013
Rachel's older sister, Seo-yeon, had once been her shield, absorbing the brunt of their parents' wrath. But on that fateful day, she had vanished, swallowed by the very nightmares she had tried to protect Rachel from. Left alone, Rachel faced the tempest and the wolf without her protector.
To escape the relentless storm inside, Rachel would take her younger brother, Minho, into the woods. The trees were their only witnesses, silent guardians of their fleeting moments of peace. "Rachii, Rachii, you count and I'll hide!" Minho's eyes sparkled with a light that seemed foreign in their dark world. But even the woods could not shield them forever. One day, Minho disappeared among the trees, swallowed by the shadows that mirrored their home.
"Minho, where are you?! Please come out, I'm scared. Mom will scold us." Rachel's cries echoed through the forest, unanswered. She returned home with a heart heavy with dread, her silent tears a river of sorrow. She returned home with tear-streaked cheeks, unable to answer when asked about her brother. What could she possibly say? The truth was clear, and so was the punishment. Strikes upon strikes, muffled screams, and unbearable agony. She had to endure it—it was her fault, her fault, all her fault, after all.
"Yeonie, where are you? Why did you leave me like this?!" Rachel's voice was a whisper in the void, her body trembling with the weight of her suffering. The walls of their home, once her sanctuary, had become a prison of torment.
The next morning, the family received a box, its presence a sinister omen. Written on top, in letters that seemed to bleed with malice, was a chilling message:
"Hah, Wang. Your Son." — NLC C.
The box was Pandora's chest of their own making, a testament to the evil that had flourished in the absence of love. In this house, innocence was devoured by the wolves in the shadows, and the flowers wilted under the relentless storm.
