PROLOGUE

His jaw hurts. Blood seeped from the small break on the corner of his lips. The fall was hard, especially for his skinny nine-years-old body. His hair was dusty. His knees skinned. His chest, however, puffed out with pride.

One hand on the handlebar of his flaming red bicycle, the other clutching the silver trophy from the bike race, little Kwon Jiyong threaded through the driveway happily.

His father would be so proud, Jiyong was pretty sure of it. He practically had made other kids ate the dust at the race, speeding with his prided bike. The very bike that his father had given him as a birthday present a few weeks ago.

Maybe his old man would take Jiyong to celebrate at their favorite restaurant in town. Maybe his father would buy Jiyong new toys and clothes. Maybe he could persuade his dear father to buy mommy some new stuff too. Maybe he could make the man stay at home for a little longer. Maybe his father wouldn't get angry over every little stuff anymore.

All those maybes flew away from little Jiyong's mind the moment he reached the parking area. His puffed chest deflated. There, behind the red semi that Jiyong knows by heart, his father stood rigidly. On his father's feet was Jiyong's mother, crying.

The view was not unusual at all. Jiyong had seen his mother cry on his father's feet so many times before. But this time, something was different. Something was wronger than ever.

Nothing sunk Jiyong's heart faster than the sight of two duffle bags and a cardboard box on the other side of his father's feet. He let go of his bike. The handlebars hit the pavement hard as he rushed to his parents' side.

“Daddy, where are you going?”

The man looked down at Jiyong through his sunglasses, sighing. “I'm sorry, Ji. I have to go.”

“Mommy, where's daddy going? Why are there so many bags?”

His mother sobbed, extending a trembling hand to her only son. “It's okay, Jiyongie. It will be okay.”

“Please don't go, daddy. Not now. Look, I won the race at the track down the hill. First place.” He lifted the trophy up with both hands, beaming despite the urge to cry that was th