TWO STORY

The sun spread its golden rays across the towering skyline, casting long shadows over the bustling streets below. The air buzzed with honking cars, hurried footsteps, and the occasional chatter of pedestrians lost in their morning rush. It was just another day in the city—a place where ambitions clashed, dreams crumbled, and the fortunate few soared above it all.

Among the tide of people, a man in a neatly pressed suit strode forward, his jaw clenched in frustration. His companion, dressed in casual yet presentable attire, kept pace beside him, hands stuffed into his pockets.

"Man, I really don't like this job," the suited man muttered, yanking at his tie as if it were a noose.

His companion glanced at him and let out a dry chuckle. "That's life, my friend. Those with money live comfortably, and the rest of us? We're stuck trying to figure out how to survive."

The suited man sighed, his gaze lifting toward the clear morning sky. "At least we have a job. That's something, right?" His voice carried the weight of resignation, laced with a desperate attempt at optimism.

They reached the curb, waiting for the pedestrian signal when a sleek black car suddenly whooshed past, its tinted windows reflecting the morning light. Through the dark glass, a glimpse of a young girl in a crisp school uniform could be seen, scrolling through her phone with effortless ease.

"Hey! Did you see that?" The suited man nudged his companion, eyes following the car as it merged into traffic. "That's Lily Brick—the daughter of the SOS Company's chairman."

His gaze lingered, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression. Jealousy? Longing?

"I wish I was born into a rich family," he muttered. "Life would be so much easier."

His companion shook his head with a smirk. "Stop dreaming and hurry up. If we're late, you know what'll happen."

They continued walking, lost in their mundane conversation—unaware that their paths were on the brink of an irreversible change.

******

A small convenience store door creaked open as two young boys stepped inside, their neatly combed black hair peeking out from under their school caps. Both wore identical uniforms, their faces partially obscured by disposable masks.

One of them approached the counter, pointing at a pack of snacks placed on the high shelf behind the shopkeeper.

"I'd like that one," he said, his voice steady but rehearsed.

The shopkeeper, an elderly man with kind but weary eyes, turned to fetch the snack. In that brief moment, the second boy's hand darted forward, snatching a pack of cigarettes from the counter and slipping it into his pocket in one seamless motion. He then leaned against the counter, feigning nonchalance.

The shopkeeper handed over the snack. "Here you go. That'll be 100 bucks."

The first boy paid without hesitation, dropping a bill onto the counter. They turned toward the exit, steps casual—until the shopkeeper's voice rang out.

"Hey—wait a minute!"

Their bodies tensed for a fraction of a second before exchanging a silent glance. Then, as if sharing the same thought, they bolted.

The shopkeeper watched them disappear into the streets, frowning in confusion. He picked up the bill they had left behind and blinked.

"Strange kids… they overpaid me. Gave me 1000 bucks instead of 100."

Meanwhile, the two boys, now at a safe distance, panted heavily. One of them, Jung, glared at his friend.

"Sung! Why did you start running like that? Now the shopkeeper is *definitely* gonna suspect us!"

Sung snapped back, "I ran because *you* ran first, Jung!"

Their argument spiraled from blame to indignation, completely forgetting the stolen cigarettes nestled in Sung's pocket.

******

A towering building loomed ahead, its bold sign reading *Careata Classes.* Inside, dozens of students clad in white uniforms moved in near-perfect synchrony, executing strikes and blocks with practiced precision.

Amidst them, a boy younger than most but equally skilled delivered a powerful kick, his movements sharp and controlled. Sweat trickled down his forehead, but his expression remained calm.

Practice concluded, and he slumped onto a nearby bench, catching his breath.

An older instructor approached, arms crossed and a proud smile playing on his lips. "You're doing great, Neel. Ever thought about going pro? You'd dominate in competitions."

Neel chuckled, shaking his head. "I just do karate as a hobby."

The instructor studied him for a moment, sensing an unsaid reason behind his words. But instead of pushing, he glanced at the clock. "Isn't today your first day of high school?"

Neel's eyes widened. He checked his phone. "Only *30 minutes* left?! I gotta run!"

Snatching his bag, he bolted out the door, vanishing into the pulsing heart of the city.

******

Deep in a narrow alley, an old apartment complex stood in silence, its walls cracked and faded.

Inside one of the rooms, a young man lay motionless in bed, his dark hair falling over his closed eyes. A faint scar stretched across his forehead. The room was sparse—just a bed, a small desk cluttered with books, and an old computer.

As the city roared outside, the young man stirred. He sat up sluggishly, rubbing his eyes before reaching for a hair tie. Pulling his hair back, the scar on his forehead became even more pronounced.

Yawning, he stood and walked to the bathroom.

The mirror reflected a lean, battle-worn figure. As he removed his shirt, the scars across his back told unspoken stories. On his chest, a distinct number—*333*—was seared into his skin.

For a moment, he simply stared at his reflection. Then, without a word, he turned on the tap and let the water run over his hands, as if trying to cleanse something unseen.

Later, dressed in fresh clothes, he stepped out into the morning light, locking the door behind him.

******

At a small grocery store, the young man—Samiy—stood behind the counter, idly scanning items for customers.

The store owner, a plump man with thick glasses, called out, "Samiy! I'm stepping out for a bit. Watch the store, alright?"

Samiy barely glanced up. "Yeah, yeah. Just don't take too long. We need to restock."

As the owner shuffled away, the store fell into a brief lull. The door swung open.

Neel entered, grabbing a few items. Moments later, a sleek car pulled up outside. The same *black car*.

Lily Brick stepped out, her flawless skin glowing under the morning sun. Her long, silky hair cascaded over her shoulders like silver threads. She walked in, her bodyguards stationed at the entrance.

As Neel and Lily approached the counter, something *shifted*.

A brilliant light erupted from beneath their feet. The store was swallowed in a sudden, blinding glow.

And then— Everything changed.

:Writer:

"This is my first novel, so if you find any mistakes or have any suggestions, please feel free to correct me. Also, do you think this chapter is too short? Should I expand on it?"