It was a time of war, a time of unrest, a time of non-existant peace.

This particular war, however, was different. It was a stupid feud between two powerful families- The Choi family and The Lee family. Those two had been fighting each other as far as history extends. No one knew when the hatred toward each other started, and no one knew why. The only thing they knew was that they were to hate one another, for that was how it was and that was how it was going to be. 

A well-built man trudged his way through the prison as he was handed a profile of all the prisoners. He let out a heavy sigh. Once again, he had to go to the youngest prisoner. Honestly, the man was starting to get annoyed. He hoped his boss wouldn't get angry at him if he let it slide this time. He knew that the youngest prisoner was strong, he had endured all this and still had to get beaten up for no-good reasons. The man let it go, and simply pretended that he never saw the order to beat the poor boy.

The black-haired boy sat in his cell, alone. All his cellmates had been executed already. He was the only one left. Maybe it had to do with his bloodline. After all, he was the son of the head of the Choi family of South Korea. But, deep inside he knew that it had nothing to do with that. He was currently at the mercy of North Korea's Lee family. He knew they hated his guts for some stupid ancient feud. He found it pointless fighting this. They had no real reason to fight. Only the fact that their families had hated each other and were expected to hate despite not knowing the reasons. 

Well, it wasn't exactly…all bad. Basically, prisoners were left to their own devices over there. It seemed like the only reason they were there was because they wanted their society to only consist of one type of believers. They were only taken out for execution or torture if the officers and wardens had nothing to do and just wanted some fun. The black-haired boy often drew outlines of the prisoner's camp. He often dreamed of escaping and running away. Not that the prison guards knew. All they saw were scratches on beautiful pieces of art work that he created. 

Stepping out into the fairly large yard the prison possessed, the boy looked across the unkempt patch of wildlife they dared call grass, where the great fence was.

The fence stretched across the entire perimeter of the prison grounds, and across one stretch of the fence was a flower field that the outside people frequented. Of course, they kept their distance, but nothing deterred the boy from seeing their happy faces as they frolicked across the lush greenery of the place picnicking, playing frisbee, anything.

Such was the daily routine of a ten year old child.