"DAMN IT, YOU LITTLE BRAT, WAKE UP RIGHT NOW! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT TIME IT IS? GET DRESSED AND GET TO SCHOOL! KEEP LIVING LIKE THIS AND NOT EVEN A DOG WOULD MARRY YOU!"
The hoarse, heavy shout, weighed down by age, echoed through the old house.
But the boy being scolded... had been awake for a very long time.
Truong Long sat motionless on the bed, his back resting against the cold wall. The phone in his hand played that old recording on a loop—his grandfather's voice, familiar to the point of heartbreak. Every time the sound rang out, his heart trembled as if squeezed by an invisible hand.
And tears, whether he wanted them to or not, silently fell.
"Grandpa... Grandpa... hic..."
His voice broke, fragmented between long-suppressed sobs. His grandfather had been gone for exactly a year, but the pain had never faded. It was like a wound that never had time to heal; a single touch was enough to make it bleed again.
Truong Long was fifteen, scrawny and small, with messy hair no one bothered to comb and a pale face devoid of the vitality of a teenager. In this world, his grandfather was his only relative.
Since birth, he had never once seen his parents' faces. He knew they were alive—his mother didn't want to see him, and his grandfather never allowed him to meet his father. Why? Long never knew. And he never dared to ask.
Throughout his childhood until he grew up, only his grandfather was there, raising him with all his love and care, providing a home full of both material comfort and spiritual warmth.
That peaceful life... ended on his fourteenth birthday.
That day, it rained heavily. Lightning tore across the sky as if trying to rip the world apart.
Long sat inside, swinging his legs in anticipation, waiting for his grandfather to buy a birthday cake. Beside him was Liam—his best friend.
Liam was tall and muscular, far beyond his age. He came from England, possessing albinism that gave him striking white hair and pale skin, yet he carried a unique allure. A delicate face, deep cold eyes—an aura difficult to name, as if he always stood half a step above everyone else.
Liam had moved to Vietnam when he was seven. Meeting Truong Long that day, the two became inseparable.
If Long was the sensitive, vulnerable type, Liam was strong, decisive, always the one to step up in every situation. Two completely opposite people, yet they became best friends—close enough that Long once thought of Liam as a brother in the family.
Until the moment the door burst open.
A clap of thunder exploded in the sky.
Long's grandfather stood at the threshold. His entire body was covered in blood—it was unclear whose blood it was, or how long it had been flowing.
Long's world seemed to stop spinning.
"Grandpa!!! Oh my god, Grandpa, are you okay?!"
Long rushed forward, his trembling hands reaching out to touch him, then pulling back in panic—afraid that he would make the situation worse.
"I... I have to call an ambulance..."
His voice wavered. Liam spoke up immediately, far calmer.
"I already called. The car will be here soon. Help Mr. Nam to the chair, get the first aid kit."
Grandpa Nam raised his hand, smiling a very faint smile.
"No need... kids."
He placed his hand on Long's shoulder. That hand was unusually cold.
"I'm sorry, son. From now on... Grandpa can't take care of his beloved grandson anymore."
Long shook his head continuously.
"You are my pride. You too, Liam... I love you both very much."
His voice grew weaker.
"It's also my fault... used to be a soldier... used to be..." He hesitated, then sighed softly. "I'm ashamed that I didn't have enough resolve... and now the future of you two must suffer."
"Grandpa... what are you saying?" Long burst into tears. "I don't understand... please don't leave me..."
Mr. Nam reached out, still holding the box of birthday cake.
"Happy birthday, Long."
Then he turned to Liam.
"Take care of him... for me."
A mouthful of blood gushed from his mouth.
His body collapsed.
Long hugged him tight, screaming and crying until his throat was raw. The rain that day fell heavily, as if trying to drown the heavens and the earth.
Liam stood frozen. His hand clenched tight, punching the wooden door hard enough to crack it.
"Damn it..."
Then came the cold days of investigation. The police found no leads. On Mr. Nam, they discovered a will written in advance.
Final conclusion: suicide.
All assets, including the farm, were left to Truong Long.
As for Long... he locked himself in his room.
Met no one. Went to no school.
The pain in his heart was like thousands of dull knives, slowly slicing bit by bit. The more he remembered the days with his grandfather, the more he suffocated with pain.
The school tried to encourage him to return to class.
But Liam did not.
He didn't visit even once.
When Long finally forced himself to go to school, Liam became strangely distant. Cold. Avoidant.
Long was lonely, but he tried to endure. The high school entrance exam was approaching. He had promised his grandfather he would become a doctor. He couldn't break that promise.
Then, after the exam, everything got worse.
Liam started bullying him.
No one intervened.
Days at school became hell. But the most painful part wasn't the torture, but the fact that the perpetrator was the very person he had considered a blood brother.
After the pain of losing his grandfather, all Long received were scrutinizing stares, whispered gossip, and coldness from teachers—as if the whole world had turned its back on him.
He completely collapsed.
And then, a thought flashed through his mind:
"If the world doesn't need me... then what do I exist for?"
Summer arrived.
Also the present.
Long turned off the recording of his grandfather's voice on the phone and stepped off the bed. His gait was unsteady, his footsteps echoing in the silence of the house that felt terrifyingly quiet.
Memories were everywhere.
The tractor where he used to sit in the back eating ice cream while his grandfather drove in the front, chatting in the twilight. The warehouse where his grandfather used to bend down to make him clumsy wooden swords.
He wanted to cry. But his tears had dried up long ago.
Long lit a stick of incense in front of the altar.
"Let me follow you, Grandpa."
He smiled, as if he had let go of everything.
The rope was prepared.
The chair kicked over.
His body hung suspended, struggling by instinct. His lungs felt like they were on fire. His vision narrowed.
In the moment his consciousness was about to fade, his grandfather's voice rang in his head:
"You damn brat."
Long startled.
The rope... snapped.
He fell hard onto the floor. The sound of cracking wood rang out piercingly. Long coughed violently, removing the rope from his neck, gasping for air like someone just pulled from the depths of the water.
He looked up at his grandfather's portrait.
It felt like... his grandfather had just saved him.
Long's hand unconsciously touched the floor, grazing a crack. A faint light shone up from below.
His heart raced.
Prying up the floorboards, Long froze.
Beneath the house... was a basement.
A basement that for all these years, he had never known about.
Fear. Confusion. But curiosity urged him to move forward.
Holding a flashlight, Long fumbled his way down into the dark, damp space. The sound of footsteps echoed, dragging with it an unending sense of unease.
At the end of the tunnel, he stopped.
Before Long's eyes was a massive stone gate covered in strange ancient characters, glowing faintly.
Before he could understand what was happening, his hand unconsciously touched it.
Light flared up.
The space trembled.
The gate opened.
Behind it... was another world.
Long took half a step back.
His breath came in ragged gasps, his heart beating so hard it felt like it would burst from his chest. Cold sweat poured down his spine, his hand holding the flashlight trembling so much the light beam wavered.
Impossible.
This thing... couldn't exist.
A stone gate, strange glowing ancient characters, the space behind it distorted like a twisted dream—this wasn't something a normal human could accept in just a few seconds.
Long turned his head back.
The pitch-black stairs behind looked like the gaping maw of a beast. Just turn back, close the floorboards, pretend he never saw anything—everything could return to the way it was.
At least... he could deceive himself that way.
But the image of his grandfather falling in a pool of blood suddenly flashed in his mind.
"Who were you... Grandpa?"
His voice trembled, so quiet he almost didn't hear it himself.
If his grandfather was just a normal ex-soldier... then what was this?
Questions flooded in, crushing his chest to the point of suffocation. Long grit his teeth, fear and indignation mixing into a chaotic emotion.
All his life, he had only one relative.
And that person... had hidden an entire world from him.
Long's hand clenched into a fist.
"If you were alive... you would explain this to me, right?"
No answer.
Only the light from the gate silently fluctuating, as if waiting.
Long swallowed dryly.
He was scared.
But he had been scared enough to want to die.
Compared to the empty feeling of standing before his grandfather's altar... this fear was still bearable.
Moreover...
He had lost everything already.
If what lay ahead was hell, then at least he wanted to know why he had been pushed here.
Long stepped forward.
The light swallowed him whole.