“Kwan, step back, this is not good…”, Mingyu advised as he fixated his eyes on the troop of men behind Mr. Choi, standing like unarmed bodyguards.

Seungkwan looked at the other in confusion, unable to decipher the situation to the fullest. Before he could ask Mingyu anything, he was startled by the sudden rise in the uproar of the people; he stumbled backwards as he watched some of the farmers lunge forwards and strike against Mr. Choi.

A gunshot.

“Silence!” Mr. Choi had his hand raised up, gesturing one of his men to lower his gun. “One more attempt at violence, and I will have him shoot a hole through the spines of each of you…”

A moment of silence engulfed the region, before Mr. Choi turned his body towards one of the farmers that moved out of his position; he smirked and aggressively pushed the farmer’s wife to the side, before pulling out the pistol from his probable colleague’s hold, aiming the body of the gun towards the hunched farmer.

A gunshot again.

“No!”, the woman screamed with terror in her eyes, her body shaking incessantly as she kneeled and pulled her husband helplessly.

A moment of silence engulfed the region once again as the woman struggled to breathe; like a movie being resumed, the farmers fled in all directions, some thrashing their weapons against the wealthy men that fought back with their genuine weapons – pistols, rifles and other handguns – while others rushed back to their exposed homes.

“Kwan, come!”

Seungkwan’s head was throbbing, his heart beat rapidly against his chest, he was in a state of panic. He scanned his surroundings to search for his friend, but all he saw was a blur – his home, his friend, his grandmother, his life was drifting far away from him and he stood there hopeless, helpless.

But there was hope – at least temporarily.

Just as he felt his hand being pulled away by some sort of natural force, he saw a dangerous bullet fly right by his side, missing him by a mere millimetre. His feet moved on their own, his eyes struggling to stay open as he found himself running towards a large tree, the warmth in his hand still lingering.

“Are you okay?”, a voice asked with concern.

Only then did Seungkwan realise that he wasn’t saved by a natural force but a young boy of his age instead. “I-I’m fine…” He was not fine at all; his entire soul felt like it was being ripped apart from his tired body, his hands tremored endlessly, his pupils dilated to clear his vision, his lips quivered in shock and fear, his throat went dry.

He took a moment to observe the boy in front of him – his saviour, a foreign or perhaps mixed boy with a noticeable accent, associated with the rich men that shattered the hearts of the villagers. “W-Who are you?”

“Umm… M-My name is Choi Hansol.” The stranger paused for a second as he glanced at the chaos behind the trunk of the tree that they found shelter in. “And I’m sorry. That is my f-father. That is my father and I am sorry for what he is d-doing.”

Seungkwan was not at all bothered by the presence of the stranger; he poked out his head from behind the tree and scanned the field ahead of him, trying to look for his friend, his family, but all he saw was a terrifying sight.

“M-My people…”, he trailed off as tears strolled down his cheeks. He saw it all in front of him, like a painting he wanted to tear to shreds; bloodied, batt