8. The Shattered Innocence

The changes in Joon-hyuk's life did not happen all at once. They crept in slowly, like cracks forming in glass, barely noticeable at first but growing deeper with time. At school, he still smiled and played with Mi-jin, Zin, and Yohan, but there were moments—fleeting yet unmistakable—when something in his eyes shifted.

It started with small things. One afternoon, during a soccer game in PE, an older student from another class roughly shoved Joon-hyuk to the ground. Normally, he would have laughed it off, but this time, something snapped inside him. His fingers dug into the dirt as he pushed himself up, and when he turned to face the older boy, his usual bright eyes were dark, unreadable. For a brief moment, Zin, who was closest to him, swore he saw something unsettling—a look too cold for a child's face. Joon-hyuk stepped forward, fists clenched, and for the first time in his life, he had the urge to hurt someone. But then Mi-jin called his name, her voice filled with worry, and just like that, the moment passed. He blinked, his expression softening. He dusted himself off and forced a grin.

"I'm fine," he said, as if nothing had happened.

But Zin kept watching him after that.

At home, things continued to deteriorate. His father, once the pillar of their family, was now a ghost of himself. The drinking started as an occasional escape, then became a habit. And then, one night, it became something worse.

Joon-hyuk had been lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, when he heard the front door slam open. His father's voice, slurred and angry, filled the house.

"Where's the money, Soo-jin?!"

Joon-hyuk shot up, his heart pounding. He had never heard his father yell like that before. Carefully, he crept to the hallway, peering through the crack in his door.

His mother stood in the living room, arms wrapped around herself. "Dae-hyun, please lower your voice. Joon-hyuk is sleeping."

"Sleeping?" His father let out a bitter laugh. "Do you think sleep is going to put food on the table?!"

Then, in a flash, a bottle flew across the room, shattering against the wall.

Joon-hyuk flinched. His fingers curled into fists, nails digging into his palms. He wanted to run out there, to stop whatever was about to happen. But his feet wouldn't move. His chest felt tight, his breath shallow. A strange, burning sensation spread through him—a mix of fear, anger, and something darker.

The shouting continued for hours. His mother tried to reason with his father, but nothing reached him anymore. Eventually, Joon-hyuk forced himself to close his eyes, pressing his hands over his ears.

The next morning, his mother smiled at him like nothing had happened. But her lip was slightly swollen, and there was a bruise forming on her arm. Joon-hyuk didn't say anything. He just clenched his fists under the table, his soup turning cold in front of him.

At school, his friends noticed the change.

"Joon-hyuk, are you okay?" Mi-jin asked one afternoon as they walked home.

He gave her a forced smile. "Yeah. Just tired."

But they could tell something was wrong. He laughed less. He spoke less. And sometimes, when he thought no one was looking, his eyes held a coldness that hadn't been there before.

The nights only grew worse. His father's outbursts became more violent, and his mother's voice became more desperate. And then, one night, it happened.

Joon-hyuk had fallen asleep in his room, but the crash of something breaking jolted him awake. His mother's scream followed immediately after.

"No! Dae-hyun, stop!"

Joon-hyuk ran. His feet barely touched the ground as he rushed to the living room, and the sight before him made his blood freeze.

His father stood over his mother, fists clenched, his face twisted in drunken fury. His mother lay on the floor, blood seeping from a gash on her forehead. She was still breathing, barely.

Joon-hyuk's body moved on its own. He threw himself between them, arms outstretched, shielding his mother. "Stop it!"

For a moment, his father hesitated. Then, he scowled. "Get out of the way, Joon-hyuk."

"No."

His father's hand swung toward him, and everything went black.

When Joon-hyuk opened his eyes, he was lying on the floor. The room was spinning, his head throbbing. But something was different. His body felt cold, yet strangely powerful. His fingers twitched, his breathing slow and steady.

He got up.

His father was still standing there, but something in Joon-hyuk's expression made him step back. His golden-haired, bright-eyed son was gone. What stood before him now was something else entirely. His once warm brown eyes were now filled with an eerie darkness, void of emotion.

Joon-hyuk tilted his head slightly. "You shouldn't have done that," he said, his voice quiet but heavy.

And then, he moved.

His father didn't even have time to react. In the blink of an eye, Joon-hyuk's fist struck his ribs. There was a sickening crack as his father staggered back, gasping. But Joon-hyuk didn't stop. His small hands, no longer trembling, struck again and again, each blow precise, merciless.

By the time he stopped, his father lay motionless on the ground. Blood pooled beneath his head.

Silence.

Joon-hyuk stared down at him, breathing heavily. He felt nothing. No fear, no regret. Only an eerie sense of satisfaction.

Then, suddenly, the weight of what had happened crashed down on him. His body trembled. His breath came in ragged gasps. And just like that, the darkness in his eyes faded.

"No… no, no, no…" His voice cracked as he stumbled back. His hands were red. His father wasn't moving. His mother was barely conscious.

He turned and ran.

Ran until his legs gave out. Until the night swallowed him whole.

That night, Kang Joon-hyuk was no longer the same.

And neither was the world he lived in.

But it did not end there.

His new personality did not completely disappear. Over time, whenever he faced threats or fear, his dark side would resurface. A glimpse in a small fight, a gaze too cold for a child. No one realized how deep the cracks within him had grown. 

And this was only the beginning.