Jiro died when he was five. He was murdered. He lived too short to understand why. Nevertheless, more terrified than others, more helpless than others, Jiro flinched at the coldness of the blade. Warmth surged out of his neck. That haunted him. Agonies crept over, and smothered his silent screams.

On the execution ground Jiro lay lifeless and motionless. During the last moments of his life, in between his futile attempts to gasp for air, Jiro’s eyes saw his cousin Kibum in the crowd. For one very last time, light flashed in his eyes. Jiro strived to call Kibum. That was beyond his freshly cut windpipe. No sound came. His eyes went dead. Darkness took over.

From a noble prince to a nobody, to a dead body; the forces redefined Jiro without mercy.

It’s all because of his family name. Jiro had to die because his family name was X. X used to be the name of a kingdom. Royal family of this kingdom shared the name X. People in this kingdom were referred to as the X-ians. The language they used was called X-ish. X was their identity.

Their identity was wiped out. Everyone in family X was murdered. Everyone who married someone in family X was murdered. Everyone who spoke language X was captured and killed. Every book which mentioned X was burnt.

I have to use X to refer to this kingdom. Otherwise this documentary would not survive.

X was obliterated. After several generations X would become a myth, its existence ridiculed. X? What? No Come on! X never existed!

A few more generations later, X would be forgotten.

***

Kibum witnessed the whole execution. He watched how his parents, his immediate family and extended family were slaughtered. Countless times his feet wanted to run towards them. His head forcibly nailed himself on the ground. Countless times his heart wanted to scream and wail. His head forcibly screwed his jaw firm.

Slowly the crowd dispersed. Kibum wished he could stay and mourn the dead. This time his head forcibly dragged his body away. How much he wanted to turn his head and take one last look. He didn’t. Like his jaw, his neck was screwed firm.

A walking dead, Kibum joined the crowd. They had all lost their identity. The public execution was a display of how beyond hope X was over. Now they lived in a foreign land built on top of their homes. They had to wear a new identity forced upon them. They were slaves of their new master.

Cold caressed Kibum’s cheeks. He raised his head, and saw countless white moths falling from the sky.

Quietly, white cleansed the blood on the ground. White blanket covered the dead bodies. Coldness descended upon the dead kingdom; and accompanied her lonely, homeless people.

***

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A/N: As I said, I am back. I am very grateful that you guys still remember me. So touched!!! ?_? I hope you will enjoy this story.

A/N2: Eunhae fanfic lovers, I know I still owe you "In the Name of Love" and "Death Agents". Yes yes work in progress... sorry sorry...

A/N3: Sorry I was away for two years. A lot of things happened and I will tell you gradually. Would you be so kind to like my page 'Joni0717'? More likes I collect the better chance I can get my novels published. Please please please~~~ You can also check out some illustration I drew for my fanfics. Let me know what you think. ^_____________________^

A/N4: Once again THANK YOU!!!!!!!