Sangetsu: Sins Of Silence

Sang walked mindlessly across the brightly lit hall. Across him was his drunk, angered father, throwing curses at him while being pulled away. Sang walked toward the door.

"Young master, please. Let me clean your wounds." The maid's voice trembled behind him.

He ignored her, pushing the door open and stepping into the cold night, leaving a print of blood and the lingering scent of alcohol.

The quiet hum of the city guided him as he walked toward a familiar hospital. He barely looked up, but his eyes flickered toward a specific window, dimly lit behind closed curtains. Without hesitation, he stepped inside.

The receptionist spotted him immediately, her face softening with concern. She didn't ask any questions. Instead, she grabbed a warm towel and gently draped it over his shoulders, her movements careful, practiced. She knew the drill. Without a word, she led him down the hall and slid open the door to a private room.

There, surrounded by high-tech tubes and humming machines, lay his mother—motionless, pale, lost somewhere he could never reach.

Sang dragged his feet to the bed and sat beside her. His fingers trembled as he reached for her hand, his touch barely grazing her cold skin before he finally held it. He let out a shaky breath.

"Mom..." His voice barely made a sound.

He rested his head beside her arm, closing his eyes, letting exhaustion take over.

For a moment, everything was warm.

Sang was small again, barely able to reach his mother's hand as they walked through a sunlit park. The world was golden, the trees swaying with a gentle breeze. His mother's laughter was soft, a melody that made his chest feel light. She squeezed his hand playfully, spinning him around as he stumbled forward, giggling.

"See? I won't let you fall," she said, smiling down at him.

Her voice was warm. Safe.

Sang looked up at her, laughing, his small fingers gripping hers tightly.

But the warmth faded. The golden light dimmed.

He blinked, and suddenly, her hand wasn't there anymore.

Sang jolted awake.

The machines beeped softly. His mother remained still. The warmth was gone.

His fingers uncurled from her hand, his face unreadable. Slowly, he stood up and left the hospital.

He wandered.

The night stretched on endlessly as he drifted through the empty streets, his mind lost between memory and reality. He barely noticed when he reached a fence with a caution sign nailed to it.

His tired eyes stared at the warning. Then, without a second thought, he stepped forward.