the first days were awkward. of course they were — they were strangers to each other, two souls from different worlds trying to find a way to connect. the man spoke slowly, patiently, teaching the boy simple words, one by one. at first, the boy stumbled, his tongue clumsy and unsure, his pronunciation rough. sometimes it almost looked funny, watching him struggle to shape sounds that felt foreign and strange. but he never gave up. day after day, word by word, he learned a little more.
soon, he could say simple things. not perfect, but enough to be understood. he was still embarrassed sometimes — the way his voice cracked or the words came out twisted — but inside, a small fire of hope was kindling. more than that, he could understand the man fully now. every calm sentence, every quiet instruction, every story the man told.
after he learned to read, the man handed him books — old, dusty pages filled with stories and histories. the boy's eyes devoured them, drinking in the knowledge of this strange new world. he learned about the country he was in — vast, powerful, and ruled by an emperor feared by all. the emperor, the books said, had killed his own siblings to take the throne, ruling with iron and cruelty. the boy thought the emperor was terrifying — but somehow, it wasn't surprising. this kind of ruthless power was normal here.
the emperor had many children — over fifty, the oldest about seventeen, the youngest a mystery the books didn't bother to mention. most of those children, the boy knew, were destined to die in the brutal struggles for power. it was a harsh world.
but this country wasn't the only one with power. there were two other kingdoms just as strong, just as terrifying. and then the boy learned something that shook him — these three kingdoms were the only places with human populations. beyond them were lands ruled by other creatures. there were kingdoms of elves, vampire courts, and shadowy realms filled with demons beneath the earth. at first, the boy thought this underground world might be the place he came from — the cursed land of his nightmares — but no, this was somewhere else entirely.
and where there were demons, there were angels too — creatures of light and power. the boy's mind raced with the new knowledge, the vastness of this world expanding beyond anything he'd ever imagined. it was proof — clear as the sun — that he was far, far away from home.
days passed. maybe weeks. maybe months. lucen spent most of his time learning, trying hard to catch up with a world that felt too big, too strange, and too different from the nightmare he came from.
but even in the middle of books and quiet lessons, he noticed something odd.
every time the man—now known to him as jang-ho—returned from town, he brought back food. not just a little, but baskets full of all sorts of things. fresh fruit, soft bread, dried meat, sweet cakes, even warm soup. it always smelled amazing, and lucen would stare as it filled the quiet kitchen with life.
one day, unable to hold back his curiosity, lucen asked in his slow, broken way.
"jang… ho… where you… get… all… this?" he pointed at the food, then at jang-ho's bag, then shrugged.
jang-ho laughed as he unpacked a jar of something sweet.
"ah, this? the villagers give it to me," he said. "because i keep the village quiet."
lucen didn't reply. he nodded slowly, as if he understood—but he didn't, not really. keep it quiet? what did that mean? he thought of asking again, but something told him jang-ho wouldn't explain it properly. or maybe he just didn't want to know yet.
a month and a half passed after that talk. summer rolled in quietly.
lucen, who rarely left his room, slowly regained his pale skin. it wasn't as white as before—there was a soft bronze tone still—but it was much lighter now, like milk under sunlight. his hair stayed golden, warm like honey in the morning light. and his eyes… even after everything, they shone again. they weren't the same as before—no. they had learned. they had seen too much.
but for the first time in what felt like forever, they sparkled like they had never suffered at all.
one warm afternoon, as cicadas hummed softly outside and the village lay still in the golden sun, jang-ho stood by the open window, watching lucen quietly from a distance.
the boy was seated on the floor, finishing the last book jang-ho had given him. his back was straight, his eyes focused, and his lips moved slightly as he read the final sentence aloud to himself. when he closed the book, his fingers lingered on the cover. not because he was tired—but because there was nothing else to read.
jang-ho let out a thoughtful hum.
he had given lucen every book he owned—books on the world, its lands, its rulers, its monsters, its ancient gods, and its forgotten cities. books on numbers, on stars, on plants and healing. lucen devoured them all. his reading had become smoother, his understanding sharper, his hunger for knowledge… insatiable.
he's not just learning, jang-ho thought. he's searching. building himself back.
and so, he wondered—was it time?
was it time to teach him how to fight?
the man crossed his arms. he had hoped to wait longer. the world outside was vast, cold, and cruel, and part of him wanted lucen to stay untouched by it just a little more. but looking at him now—healthy, focused, and alive—he knew the answer.
yes.
"lucen," jang-ho said, and the boy looked up.
"yes?"
"come. tomorrow… we start something new."
lucen tilted his head. "new book?"
jang-ho smiled faintly. "no. no more books for now. it's time you learn how to protect yourself."
lucen blinked slowly. then, a strange light sparked in his eyes—not fear, not confusion, but something closer to… excitement. not because he wanted to fight. but because he wanted to stand.