Chapter Text
Behind every blinking sign was a name you weren’t allowed to say. And behind every name was a body you were never supposed to find.
The ragged sound of breathing shattered the silence of the alley.A thin, trembling body pressed itself against the cold, rough stone wall.Robina stood on the edge of the city’s rot.
She could see the mist of her breath dancing in the air.The voices drew closer. Her trembling grew worse. Her breaths came faster, her heartbeat louder.
She gripped the cold iron rod tightly in her hands.
— “Where did you run off to, you little whore? Did you really think you could escape me?”
The man’s voice, seething with anger and hatred, made her flinch.
The memory of his filthy gaze burned inside her.
When he had reached out, grabbing her chin, she had snatched the glass from the table and smashed it across his face.
And now—she was only running.
When he turned the corner of the alley, a sudden surge of brutal strength coursed through her.
With power she didn’t even know she had, she slammed the rod into the man’s face.
He collapsed with a curse of agony, sprawling on the ground.
The girl raised the rod again and brought it down—
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Her laughter filled the alley.
A laughter heavy with pain, anger, and something else—
Something terrifying.
Power. Freedom.
When the man’s breaths no longer grated on her ears, she stopped.
Her own gasps tore from between her lips.The rod slipped from her hand.Now she was empty.Empty of everything.
Silent, she slipped out of that cursed alley.
If she hadn’t devoured it, the world would have devoured her.
She stopped at the edge of the city.The wind tangled her black hair.Her knees were scraped and dirty from crawling through that alley.Mud and grime clung beneath her nails.Her breath still hung in the air like smoke, her lungs burning—
But she didn’t move. She stayed there for a long while, motionless.She knew someone was after her.She was sure of it.
It wasn’t the same men as before—she was certain.
Her hands still reeked of iron, and her arms ached from swinging the rod.
But she felt nothing.
Not joy. Not justice.
Just emptiness.
As if she were nothing more than a hollow shell waiting for the city to swallow her whole.Another nameless girl no one would bother to remember.
Until he appeared.
His footsteps made no echo.It was as if he had been walking beside her for a long time, and she was only just noticing him now.
Slowly, she turned her head.
A pale skin man stood before her, dressed in a spotless black suit.his jacket wasn't close by bottons
No visible weapon.
No fear.
His eyes were like frozen water in an frozen rive—dark, unreadable.
She recognized him instantly.Everyone in the underworld did.
Kim Dokja.
Known to all as the Demon King of Salvation.
A man who never saved anyone unless it brought him profit.A man who ruled half the city from his glass tower.
With a voice like shattered porcelain, she rasped:
“Don’t come closer!”
Dokja stopped. Tilted his head slightly.
“You’re bleeding,” he said, his tone calm, devoid of emotion.
The girl wanted to scream, but instead a bitter laugh escaped her lips.
“It took me so long to kill them all,” she said. “They just wouldn’t die.”
His gaze lingered on her bloodstained hands.
“I can see that.”
A pause—then,
“What’s your name?”
She froze.No one had ever asked her that before.
Not for years.
“I… don’t remember.”
Dokja didn’t seem surprised.
“That’s fine.”
Silence again. Then—
“Do you want to die?”
She stared at him. The wind howled around them.
“…No.”
“Good.”
Dokja turned away.
She could only see his back now, as if she wasn’t dangerous at all.
“Then follow me.”
She should have run. She should have demanded to know who he really was. She should have cried.
But instead—she followed.
______
The building was silent, almost empty. Even the air screamed luxury.
Robina stood in an intricately carved hallway.
From the corner of her eyes, she glanced at the guards who stood like statues, weapons hidden beneath their coats.
The way they looked at her—like she was a stray, rabid dog who had dared to wander into a palace uninvited.
A thousand questions and feelings choked her throat.
She wanted to speak, to ask where exactly she was—
Until the door opened.
And he was there.
Kim Dokja.
His hands in his pockets.Eyes tired, as if he hadn’t slept in weeks.Terrifyingly beautiful.
“She’s yours now.”
Robina didn’t turn to see who whispered that.
Dokja gave no reply.
He simply gestured for her to step inside.
The room was vacant, almost empty, lined with shelves and alcoves.
No family portraits on the walls.
But a magnificent katana gleamed in a glass case at the corner.
“You’ll live here now,” Dokja said.
“Why?” Robina asked.
His gaze locked onto hers.
“Because you’re broken.And I can use that.”
Her breath caught.It should have hurt.It should have made her run.But all she could think was—
He saw me.
That same night, Robina sat in the enormous bed, staring at her hands.The blood and dirt had been washed away in the spotless bathroom—
But the guilt and trembling still lingered.
A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.
She looked up.
A man younger than Dokja stood there.Dark hair falling neatly to one side of his face.
Yoo Joonghyuk.
The secretive plotter.
His face was colder than Dokja’s, his eyes sharper.The way he looked at her—it was like she was nothing but an insect.Yet beneath it, something else lurked.Frustration. Maybe even despair.
“From today,” he said, “you’ll train under me.”
Robina whispered, “I didn’t ask for this.”
“You didn’t need to. He chose you.”
A pause.
“You should be grateful.”
Robina bit her lip. “Why?”
Joonghyuk’s gaze hardened.
“Because he keeps the things he can break.”
And with that, he shut the door behind him.And so it began.
A girl without a name.
A king without a soul.
And a weapon he had decided to wield.
She didn’t know it yet—
But from that day on, she would forget what it meant to be human.
And she would belong to him.