Epilogue

Hoon skillfully ducked the incoming bullets and stabbed the two enemies’ backs with his two daggers. Following behind him was the whole gang of more than a hundred. Two daggers were obviously not enough. He grabbed one of the dead man’s machine gun and shot continuously in all directions. Blood splattered everywhere. Soon the whole alley was filled with mass of bodies twisted in different directions, stained fresh crimson red. Not a single sign of life was left. Only then Hoon let out a deep breath. Still panting, he walked away.

Hoon, he had special abilities. He had sharp eyesight and fast reflexes. He was born to be perfect, to be the strongest man in town. His fighting skills were of course, perfect. He could use any weapons easily (but he prefers dual weapons) and he’s in a sure win condition in close combat. He did not know why he had these abilities. It was natural. Perhaps he was just one of those special cases.

Hoon had been fighting like this, everyday, for around 10 years. At a mere age of 10, he had already been fighting off bullies. However, he kept all these from his family. He was the middle child with one older brother and one younger brother.

Hoon reached a convenient store. He was stained with dried maroon-brownish blood, from his face, his neck and his muscular arms. No one really cared because gang fights were more than common in town. He purchased a bottle of mineral water and headed to the park near his house.

Hoon sat down, looking at the children play with kites and their dogs. He tried recalling his childhood, but he failed again. It was amnesia, apparently. He never knew his childhood and when he asked his parents, they would always change subjects. It’s nothing important, he thought. He sighed and took a look at the pigeons in the sky.

Hoon envied those children, those innocent children. They didn’t need to fight, they never seen blood and they never needed to fight, or kill. He let out a sigh before cutting off the bottle cap with one of his two daggers, using the water to clean himself. He didn’t want his family to know, after all, about his fighting.

Just then, a ball rolled towards Hoon. A boy around the age of 5 was chasing it. Hoon picked it up and returned it to the boy.

“Thank you! I’m going this give this ball to my girlfriend! She loves playing ball with me! I love her so much.”

Hoon smiled at the boy before he ran off to find his female friend. Kids these days… Love, Hoon never believed in it. No, he didn’t have his heart broken. But he never tried. He hated love.