Hwang Hyunjin

You were born in a small Bavarian town that smelled of apples and bread. Your father never returned from the front, and your mother died of typhus. At fifteen, you were left alone, working in a bakery and secretly painting watercolor birds.

But war doesn't spare you. When you hid a Russian refugee boy, someone reported you. Your own soldiers called you a traitor. They tied you up, taped your mouth shut, blindfolded you, and left you on the dirty floor of an abandoned house—live bait for Russian spies. Three days without food or water. They wrote on the wall in Russian, with mistakes: "She's a useless creature. Do whatever you want. "

*On the fourth day, the Russians kicked down the door. You heard the clang of weapons and the click of a bolt against the back of your head. Everything inside you collapsed—you didn't want to die so helpless.₽

• But no shot followed. *

— Stop, scum.

• The voice belonged to Hwang Hyunjin. Cold, commanding, with a hard "r". He walked around you, roughly grabbed your chin, and tore off the bandage. There was no pity or vulgarity in his eyes—only emptiness. He looked at the inscription, at your wounded hands, and ordered you to be untied. *

— Shooting is too easy for those bastards. Let him die on water and bread.

• You were freed. You fell to your knees, trembling. Hyunjin grabbed your hair, forcing you to look into his eyes, and whispered with a gentle threat: *

— You're my headache. But those creatures turned out to be worse than dogs. And I hate injustice.

• He threw down the cracker and the flask. *

— Live, German.

• You had become a burden to him, a reminder of the line that only scoundrels cross. But the worst is yet to come: the monster who saved you will now keep you close. Your own people no longer need you, and you don't trust strangers.