• Vengeance Duet #1
Hwang Hyunjin is a recently graduated, gorgeous man gearing himself up to lend a hand to his brother's business. The beginning of his new bright life ahead stirred up his ardour. But his life swapped its route when his brother d...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Hyunjin:
Lock and key rumbles slice through the absence of sound in the empty hallway as I open the door ajar. A rusty smell welcomes me. I step inside the apartment and close the door behind me. The belongings are in places just like the way I had left them.
In front of me, is an empty wall. In front of it was a wooden desk and a chair beyond it. To my right, is a medium sized closet and beside it, is a small table. And to my left, is a shelf filled with files and newspapers. And beside the shelf, is a black bulletin board.
The sunlight of the last hour of the day filtered through the ventilator, creating a diagonal golden path on the bulletin board, illuminating the pictures pinned on it. Making those eyes of the faces glow on the images, that are used to ruin anyone who dares to meet.
Walking forward the desk, I take off my coat and place it on the desk. Then I walk towards the board and stand before it. Moving my gaze at each photos, I meet eyes with theirs. Even in a mere image, they didn't fail to demonstrate the blaze of superiority and power. One could come across their pictures and claim they are beings that are unconquerable. Respect will instantly bloom in one's heart for them.
But not everyone can see what lies beyond those eyes and façade. Beyond those soft yet powerful gazes and polite smile, is a chamber of destroyed lives of unemployed, homeless and dead beings.
Their influence has evolved on the sacrifices of people who had dared to get in their way of something they desired to attain.
None of them has gotten up there with honesty and sincerity. Every single rich has shady record which are either unspoken or burnt in ashes in the backyard of politicians.
My brother never dreamt of being rich. And never harboured the thought of making his hands dirty just for a room of notes of different currencies. He taught me to stay poor if my honesty doesn't lead me to prosper.
And that advice now has me all alone in my home.
The people who had evoked voices against the elites are now either living like gypsies; jobless and unsheltered, or sleeping under the soil, just like my brother.
There is no one to address their injustice and merciless maneuver. Not even law. With their endless wealth shower, every sin they commit can be morphed into virtues.
A single dot of fluid escaped the trap of my self-will and slide down my cheek. The rest of the enraged and desperate crowd of liquid remains shackled behind my lower lashline, stinging my eyes like sharp thorns.
After the funeral of my brother, I was lost. Everything deemed to be annihilated right before my eyes. My sense of sanity began to shatter. Then, my naive, innocent and fucking patriot soul ignited the need of running to the pillars of law; police.
With a flower of hope blooming in my soul, I ran to the police. I showed them the suicide note and asked them to arrest them. In return, I got tireless laughters and mocks. They asked if I even knew whom I was going against. They said if I want to survive and keep my rest of the assets and life in one piece, I should remain silent and go back.
