𝘖𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘏𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘳 | JJK |

Prologue

9 years ago.

That evening was unremarkable, but it was the last of which he had been spotted alive.

A man walked briskly down an empty alleyway, his leaky ballpoint pen scratching the surface of a handheld journal. Every now and then, his eyes darted up to scan the shadowy nooks and crannies for a hint of movement. Fortunately, there weren't any. But the absence of anything only made his heart thump harder. The chill of the evening air bit into his skin. 

He was sure they had heard him. The ruckus he had accidentally caused was too loud; it was hard not to. It was only a matter of time before they came looking for him. They had eyes everywhere. 

It won't be long.

So he made up his mind to leave. It hurt to leave everything behind, but what must be done, should be done.

With a quick glance at his surroundings, he tucked the journal in his hands inside his shirt. It was important that the journal survived him. Its leaves held the truth he had been searching for two years. When the time comes, he will reveal it to the world. When it comes, he will send the sky castles tumbling down. Until then.

Shivering in the cold wind, he marched up the stairs to his apartment and rushed inside his home. He pulled a suitcase out of the closet and threw open the flap. Hastily walking back, he pulled his clothes out and tossed them into the suitcase. Whatever his searching fingers could find, he cast them all into the luggage until his fingers stopped short at the sight of a photograph. The picture of his son beamed back at him.

When the truth came to light, would he smile so brightly again?

It was that thought that scared him the most. The man concluded that it was best that he let him live in blissful ignorance for now. He quickly pulled out his phone from his pockets and found his brother's contacts. He typed in a short message for him.

Please take care of my child
You're the only one I can trust

He tugged the zip of his suitcase close and looked for a place to hide the journal inside his shirt. The last one had been safely shoved into a flower pot, but the journal he had now wouldn't fit in it. He frantically searched for a place that was hidden. Somewhere safe. Somewhere they would never expect it to be. He turned, scanning the room for a nook, a corner, a cranny that was hard to spot when suddenly his gaze fell on the shadow of a figure who stood behind.

He froze.

A shaky breath left his lips, "I should've known."

"It didn't have to come to this." The shadow said quietly.

"You. You will never get away with this," the man breathed with a bitter edge as he backed away.

"I'm afraid not. That journal inside your shirt will never see the light of day. I'll make sure of that," the shadow assured.

The man could only tremble in fear, betrayal, helplessness, and everything in between as the hope trickled out from his being. His end was near. He hadn't expected to run out of time so soon. He should have.

His quivering lips spoke a warning, "Don't touch him. My child. He doesn't know anything."

The shadow considered his request but shook its head in disappointment. "If I make promises to a dead man," a menacing grin spread across its lips. "Who will hold me to it?"

The helpless man's heart squeezed. Anger as he had never felt before coursed through his veins, and he launched himself at the shadow. Strong hands hooked under his arms and held him back. The man screamed with fury.

"The world will know! One way or the other, they'll know what you did! You will never ever get away with this!"

The shadow watched calmly as someone tossed a rope around his neck, and tightened the knot. It waited patiently as the man's feet left the ground. It watched as he struggled for life. It watched as his limbs grew limp. It watched as the light went out of his eyes. And then, it whispered.

"Says a dead man."

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