At the age of 8, Hye realized, while watching his aunt drown in tears, that his parents would never return. At 15, as he observed his newborn cousin in Samantha's arms—the same arms that had welcomed him without hesitation or doubt—the freshly received news slipped from his lips like a bullet, shattering that already broken heart.
The pain of loss was evident. Even the little baby, who had no understanding of what had just happened, seemed to be mourning. Yet, as he turned his back and calmly ascended the wooden steps, why was he the only one who couldn't act the same? Pain? Loss? Remorse? Why, even in such a situation, did not a single ounce of sorrow arise in his chest?
Without the presence of fear or anger, or any other existing emotion, what remained within him but the deepest and most infinite void? A void so vast that, no matter what it took, he would still seek to fill it with as many emotions as possible. After all, only then could he feel everything the books described and finally understand his mother's words: "Above all else, I just want you to be happy, my son."
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Hi everyone.
Well, I'm here to make it clear that this story does not aim to defame any religion whatsoever. However, there will indeed be many things that do not align with the books, so if you are really sensitive about this, I advise you not to read this novel.
If I were someone who cares a lot about religious matters, I would certainly appreciate having a similar warning in any story I was going to read, so I decided to put this here.
And I ask you to comment on what you think so that I can keep improving little by little. Therefore, for those who do so or even for those who voted for this story, I thank you in advance.
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