The Rain of Remorse

Rain began to pour as Jinwoo collapsed amid the carnage. The falling water mixed with crimson streams, blurring the line between life and death on the bloodstained earth. The rhythmic patter of rain on shattered stone was the only sound—until, slowly, consciousness crept back into his being.

In that moment, as his eyes fluttered open to the bleak, rain-washed ruins, every memory—from the tender warmth of his earliest days to the unbearable agony of that cursed night—flooded his mind all at once. It was as if his entire life, every fleeting moment of joy and every shard of trauma, crashed into him in a single, soul-shattering wave.

He saw the smiling faces of the villagers who had once cared for him, their laughter echoing in his mind. He remembered the comfort of their presence, the trust he had placed in them. And then, in a gut-wrenching instant, the horrifying truth took shape: those same innocent souls had been taken from this world by his own hands, manipulated by the sinister genjutsu that twisted fate into cruelty.

The images seared his mind further—a memory of the blacksmith, the one person he had trusted implicitly, his face contorted with grim resolve as he had initiated the unthinkable act. The betrayal was raw and unbearable.

Overwhelmed by the torrent of memories and the unbearable weight of guilt, Jinwoo's body convulsed. His heart pounded as he sank to the ground, unable to withstand the crushing sorrow and regret. The rain, now a relentless downpour, washed over him like a bitter baptism, mingling with the blood of those he had lost.

In that rain-soaked moment, every drop of water became a tear, every droplet a whispered apology to the souls he had wronged. His cries—raw, anguished, and echoing into the darkness—were a lament for the innocence destroyed, for a future that had turned into endless torment. The silence of the ruined village was broken only by his anguished wails, a haunting prelude to a life now defined by irrevocable sorrow.