Hong Gil-dong.
The na of a righteous thief from a classic Joseon-era novel, a master of Taoist magic.
In modern tis, however, it was better known as a placeholder, the Korean equivalent of John and Jane Doe. A sample na for forms and docunts. The na given to an unknown party.
Anonymous.
Soone who could be anyone, and yet was no one.
A fiction.
Hong Gil-dong.
The na itself was a mask.
***
The man was born the year the Gates opened.
He had no na, for he had no parents to give him one. He had no ho, no possessions, no food, no dreams. He had nothing.
In a shattered world, he simply survived, day by day.
He stole, begged, and snatched—whatever it took.
“Welco, everyone.”
He was finally taken in by an orphanage that gathered children from a world teeming with monsters and promised to raise them.
Its na was Heaven’s Ho.
“Here, you will all be born anew.”
An elderly woman with a kind, gentle smile gathered the children. They all called her by different titles. So called her Director, so Chairman, so Teacher.
The man called her Mother.
Mother.
Heaven’s Ho was different from a typical orphanage.
The children were periodically placed inside unidentified devices to have their “Gate particle levels” asured, and they were forced to take injections of various drugs every morning and night.
Children frequently collapsed, unable to withstand it. They were carried outside and never seen again.
But none of that mattered.
Mother wore an unusually tall hat from which a faint light sotis pulsed. An inexplicable red glow occasionally flashed in her kind eyes, and eting her gaze drained the strength from your body, compelling you to obey.
But none of that mattered.
For the first ti in his life, the man had things he could call his own.
Food, a place to sleep, his own room, toys.
And… Mother.
“S-Rank Awakenings, they say, occur under conditions of extre stress.”
The chanical tests and drug experints eventually ended.
After a long selection process, few children remained.
“I gathered you all because I need an S-Rank Awakened,” she said, addressing the few dozen left in a small auditorium. “So, from this mont on, you must push yourselves to the absolute limit. You get the picture, don’t you?”
Mother smiled. “Now, start killing each other.”
From that day on, if a child didn’t die, no food was served.
Sleep was also forbidden. If any of the children gathered in the auditorium so much as dozed off, the teachers of Heaven’s Ho would douse them with cold water all night long.
The children wept, calling the place a hell, but the man didn’t understand.
He had never known a world that wasn’t hell.
At dawn on the first day, the first murder occurred.
The boy next to him drifted off and collapsed. He seized the opportunity, pouncing on the child and strangling him. The boy flailed, but he held on like a predator that had caught its prey.
When the victim’s breath finally ceased…
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Mother, who had been watching, applauded.
“Excellent.”
The other children, terrified, kept their distance. He had calmly killed his friend, but he didn’t understand the problem.
No one had ever taught him morality.
He only knew that you did whatever it took to survive.
And so, he survived.
Heaven’s Ho was a crucible, a battle royale where dozens of Awakened children were forced to kill one another. He beca the final survivor.
His final peer, a boy who could project sound waves, drowned in the deluge of raindrops he summoned.
And when he killed that last classmate, he Awakened.
His own world. His Domain.
“The first success story of Heaven’s Ho.”
Mother, holding an umbrella, approached him as he unleashed an endless downpour.
She smiled and held out her hand, asking, “Child, what is your na?”
“My na…?” It was sothing he’d never had.
He answered hesitantly, “I don’t… have one.”
Only then did he realize.
Mother had never once called him by a na.
She had never intended to.
“Is that so?”
After a mont’s thought, Mother glanced at the file in her hand. He looked at it, too.
A sponsorship form.
On it was a sample na.
A na that belonged to no one.
“Then Hong Gil-dong will do.”
“Hong Gil-dong…”
“Yes. From now on, your na is Hong Gil-dong.”
Mother smiled benevolently.
“Co, my son.” She held out her hand again. “Co with … to build a true heaven.”
Slowly, silently, he took her hand. He decided he would.
Just like the aning of that empty na, Hong Gil-dong.
After all, his was a life where nothing truly mattered.
***
Mother had established branches of Heaven’s Ho across the country.
The broken world overflowed with orphans, and to the public, Heaven’s Ho was a respectable institution.
Children from all over were “selected,” and the crucible repeated: a fight to the death until only one remained.
But after Hong Gil-dong, the first success, there were no others. The children who survived were mostly broken. None reached S-Rank.
Still, Mother continued her work, undeterred.
Hong Gil-dong silently assisted her.
And then, fifteen years ago.
When Hong Gil-dong was fifteen years old.
They ca.
***
It was a moonless, pitch-black night.
Hong Gil-dong was at the fifth Heaven’s Ho, helping Mother prepare for the next “selection.”
“Chairman!” a teacher yelled, bursting in. “We’re under attack by unidentified assailants!”
Mother was unperturbed. “How many?”
“Not many! But we can’t stop them…!”
Mother moved to the control room and checked the CCTV monitors.
Five figures dressed in black stord through the halls of Heaven’s Ho like a thunderbolt, cutting down any teachers who stood in their way.
They all wore gas masks or white masks to hide their faces, and thick, choker-style collars were fastened around their necks.
“…!”
Her eyes fixed on the person at the very back of the group.
It was a female sword master with flowing white hair, wielding a jet-black sword. Mother’s eyes widened.
“Well, then.” For the first ti, the ever-composed woman’s voice trembled. “I wasn’t supposed to et her yet.”
She imdiately threw on her coat and prepared to leave, issuing a command.
“Hong Gil-dong.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Stop them. Buy ti.” Her eyes softened. “We’ll et again later.”
“…Yes.”
She was using him as a disposable pawn.
But Hong Gil-dong nodded silently, echoing the words.
“Later. Again…”
Because, after all, nothing truly mattered.
***
“This is the stuff of urban legends.”
Heaven’s Ho, the orphanage run by the villain known as Godmother.
In reality, it was a depraved slaughterhouse where Awakened children were gathered and forced to kill one another.
There had been several attempts to arrest Godmother, but each ti, the police and military units sent in were annihilated.
The last resort was the Black Parade of fifteen years ago.
The Angel Unit, led by Ghost.
“What could she possibly gain from running this hellish orphanage…?”
“Madn don’t need logic.”
Ghost brushed off the lant of her sub-leader—a man in a white mask with the callsign Puppeteer—and slowly advanced down the corridor.
Just then, a sudden downpour roared to life.
“Gah!”
“Aaargh…!”
The three team mbers in the lead scread, tumbling down the hall or crashing through windows.
Startled, Ghost and Puppeteer looked ahead and saw a boy standing in the middle of the corridor.
He looked to be about fifteen, with long, unkempt hair that seed to have never been cut. A boy, still so young.
“Ghost.”
Behind the boy, “another world” was bleeding into reality, hazy and indistinct like spreading watercolor.
Puppeteer’s jaw tightened at the sight.
He spat out the words. “That kid… he’s a Domain Break user…!”
“I know.” Ghost slowly placed her hand on the hilt of the sword at her waist. “Stand back. I’ll handle him.”
The Domain unfolding behind Hong Gil-dong rapidly expanded with a great roar.
A long horizon appeared. A world of only two things: sea and sky. The only difference was that the horizon was vertical.
An endless sea spread out behind him, and from that sea, a torrent of rain poured up toward the sky—toward Ghost.
Like countless bullets.
“Oh? So your ability is to make it rain?”
Slowly drawing her sword, Ghost unleashed her own Domain.
“That’s similar to mine.”
The space behind her was instantly filled by a vast, deep blue ice field. White snow began to fall.
And in the next instant.
Slash!
Her sword cleaved the sea.
“…?!”
Ghost’s winter, transford into a single, sweeping blade, tore through Hong Gil-dong’s rainy season in one fell swoop.
The clash of Domains ended with anticlimactic simplicity.
A victory for winter.
“No… way…”
It was the first defeat he had ever suffered since Awakening his Domain Break.
As Hong Gil-dong fell to his knees, gasping for breath, the black blade of Ghost’s sword was at his throat.
Puppeteer let out a sigh of relief. “Nice work, Ghost. Finish him quickly so we can continue the search for Godmother…”
But Ghost hesitated for a mont, then shook her head. “No.”
“What?”
“This kid is a resident of this orphanage. He was probably just being used by Godmother. There’s no need to kill him.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Our mission is to eliminate everyone connected to Heaven’s Ho,” Puppeteer snarled.
“The higher-ups who approved this twisted orphanage, who put it on their list of achievents without ever visiting, who took pictures with Godmother while she received comndations… they want everything related to this place buried.”
“…”
“That’s why we’re here, to do the dirty work. We can’t leave any survivors.”
“…”
“It’s not like this is the first ti we’ve done this. Just kill—”
“This kid is a Domain Break user. This country needs every S-Ranker it can get.” Ghost coolly sheathed her sword. “We’re rescuing the boy.”
“Ghost!”
“You take the team and go after Godmother. I’m taking this kid and heading back.”
Leaving the dumbfounded Puppeteer behind, Ghost approached Hong Gil-dong and offered her hand.
“Let’s go,” she said.
“Huh? Where to…?”
“Who knows. Looks like you’ll have to pay for your cris first. You seem too young for the sa prison as , so maybe juvenile hall to start…”
Raindrops still swirled around Hong Gil-dong.
Ignoring the downpour, Ghost took another step closer, her rain-soaked face breaking into a faint smile.
“By the way, what’s your na?”
In that mont, for so reason, he felt ashad of his na.
So, Hong Gil-dong lied.
“…I don’t have one.”
“What?”
“I was given a na, but it has no aning… It’s not a real na.”
Without pressing further, Ghost shrugged. “Well, since you’re an S-Ranker, you might make a na for yourself as a Hunter soday. You should pick a callsign in advance.”
“A callsign…?”
“Yeah. And it’s best if it’s straightforward and easy to rember. Hmm, you’re a rain-maker, so…”
Ghost shrugged again, suggesting casually, “Sothing like ‘Rain Man’ should work.”
“Rain Man…” Hong Gil-dong repeated the callsign.
It was a simple, artless, uninspired na.
“…Rain Man.”
Yet for the first ti, a faint glimr of passion flickered in his empty voice.
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