Kim Nabin’s father, under normal circumstances, would have prioritized his own safety. But that day, he had his precious young son—more important to him than his own life—by his side.
If it had been a B-rank gate, the tragedy wouldn’t have happened. But the gate that opened right in the path where Nabin and his father happened to be walking connected to an A-rank dungeon. A-rank monsters—Wolves—poured through the gate blooming midair and crashed down to the ground in a torrent.
Ah, Dad…
Nabin’s father hugged the terrified boy close to his chest and pulled out a weapon—one he always carried just in case, specifically meant for Guides. Though overwhelmed, he managed to fend off the savage wolves lunging at them with vicious growls. A-rank monsters usually acted alone, but wolves were an exception. Their tendency to move in packs earned them their A-rank classification. Individually, they were only slightly stronger than B-rank monsters.
What allowed him to hold out, even for a moment, was the fact that the pack leader didn’t attack right away. It paced and watched, waiting for Nabin’s father to wear down. The leader was patient, conserving its strength for the final blow.
He fought on, sacrificing an arm, having his leg torn into, enduring it all just to block any attack heading for the boy clutched in his arms. His body was riddled with injuries. The wounds themselves were severe, but worse was the blood loss—his consciousness started to slip away.
Summoning the last of his strength, Nabin’s father wrapped his body protectively around his son. Sensing its prey weakening, the alpha lunged like a bullet toward the entangled pair.
“Subin!”
By the time Nabin’s mother arrived, it was too late. The wolf’s razor-sharp teeth had already sunk into the back of her husband’s neck. The monster’s crushing bite snapped his spine cleanly. It was instant death.
Even as his life slipped away, he kept Nabin tightly in his arms. By some miracle, the boy remained unharmed. Nabin survived, but for his mother, who had just lost her Pair, the world collapsed.
The bond between an Esper and a Guide was more than just a contract. A successful pairing required a high matching rate, approval from the Center, and—above all—an intense level of emotional resonance between the two.
Those who lost their Pair often couldn’t return to normal life. Survivors described the experience as feeling like their soul had been ripped apart, leaving behind deep psychological scars.
Some managed to pull through, but Nabin’s mother wasn’t one of them. She spiraled into madness. Drunk most of the time, it became rare to see her sober. As an Esper, her enhanced physical abilities made it difficult to get intoxicated by normal alcohol. Eventually, she turned to illegal substances designed for Espers.
And so, she began to forget the precious son her Pair had died protecting. During rare moments of clarity, she would clutch the wounded Nabin and weep uncontrollably—but only for a moment.
“I’m sorry, Nabin… I’m so sorry…”
Before long, she would drown herself again in drugs and drink, struggling to escape the grim reality of her lost Pair.
Nabin survived each day barely clinging to life, caught between his mother’s neglect and the abuse of his stepfather. If not for the recovery potions his mother sometimes poured into his mouth during lucid intervals, he might have died long ago.
When his father was alive, he used to smile brightly, just like any other child his age. His innocent, carefree grin was once his greatest charm. But now, that light had vanished. He shriveled like someone crushed beneath an invisible weight.
The more Nabin whimpered, the more violent his stepfather became. To survive, Nabin had to learn how to smile—even when he was hurting, even when he was breaking inside.
Year after year, the sparkle in his eyes dimmed. His face, once radiant, became a mask of empty smiles. It was no longer a smile that made others happy just by seeing it. His eyebrows drooped while the corners of his lips trembled upward—a smile so sorrowful it made your chest ache just to witness it.
His stepfather, drunk and violent, would lash out at the slightest glance. Because of that, Nabin learned to avoid people’s eyes. His gaze always fell downward.
He couldn’t even meet anyone’s eyes properly, but he still smiled. He couldn’t cry, so he wrapped his bruised chest in a smile, covering his wounded face with a mask of forced cheer.
As he grew older, he began to realize—his mother and stepfather weren’t like other parents. But a child raised in abuse still clung to his abusers, trying in vain to be embraced by them.
Clatter—
“Didn’t I tell you not to set the table like that? Go get me some booze.”
After his father’s death, Nabin could no longer attend the kindergarten he used to skip toward each morning with excitement. His mother’s inability to hold a job meant their finances collapsed rapidly.
This happened the year Nabin turned ten. Though he barely attended kindergarten, he was still able to go to elementary and middle school. Those were part of the national compulsory education system, which covered the tuition.
Thanks to that policy, Nabin had a chance to experience life beyond his household. And through school, he came to understand just how abnormal his own life was.
Misery, it seemed, was contagious. Even at school, Nabin couldn’t find peace. At first, kids approached him out of curiosity—drawn by his unusual appearance. But it didn’t last long. Soon enough, they started bullying him.
To those full of youthful energy, Nabin was like a dragonfly with broken wings, crawling on the ground. At first, it was just light teasing—a push here, a mean word there.
“Stupid. Can’t you even keep your eyes open properly?”
Another child might have fought back or reported it to a teacher. But Nabin only smiled like a fool. He never told anyone. And the bullying escalated day by day.
His already scarred body only made it worse. Like a clean white wall that people hesitate to mark—until someone leaves the first scribble, and then the rest follow suit—his peers didn’t hesitate to add new wounds to Nabin’s small frame.
Nabin became steadily more isolated—at home, and at school. Even when he reached out to the only person who might save him—his mother—his life only grew harsher.
Still, Nabin never gave up on her. Even though she had long forgotten her own child, he never hesitated to reach out with his small hand.
His mother didn’t just neglect Nabin—she neglected herself too. She stopped eating proper meals and turned exclusively to alcohol and drugs. Once a healthy woman, her body withered rapidly. Just like her son, she became skin and bones.
Her lifeless eyes sank into hollow sockets, staring vacantly into space. A shell of the person she once was, Nabin was the only one who looked after her.
Every day, he cooked meals for her—hoping with all his heart that if she just ate, if she could gather some strength, maybe she’d return to the mother he once knew.
But the meals he spent hours preparing were always swept off the table by a sharp flick of her hand, crashing to the floor in a mess. Nabin’s lips trembled as they curled upward into a familiar, empty smile. Even as tears rolled down his sunken cheeks, he forced his eyes into a crescent shape—smiling at his mother.
“You worthless little shit. What the hell are you smiling about? Your father died because of you, and you’re still grinning?”
Looks like it was his mother’s turn today. Nabin’s smile twisted painfully as he lowered his head. He instinctively raised his arms to shield his small head. And soon enough, a harsh blow landed on his frail body.
The misfortune surrounding Nabin grew like a living beast, swelling in mass as time passed.
His stepfather was the textbook definition of a leech. After learning that Nabin’s mother was a B-rank Esper, he approached her and gradually drained the money she had painstakingly saved, like a mosquito sucking blood. His approach had been calculated from the start—so once inside, he showed no hesitation in siphoning off her assets.
Nabin’s mother, unable to live a normal life after losing her Pair, had long ceased functioning as an Esper. Though the money she’d saved through hardship disappeared like mist, as long as she had drugs and alcohol in hand, she’d lock herself away in her room, letting time rot.
The K Ability User Center made every effort to help her with rehabilitation training. Her colleagues, fully understanding the devastation of losing a Pair, gave their all to support her recovery.
But even that didn’t work. It was like pouring water into a broken jar. Her condition refused to improve, and eventually, the Center gave up. Though she was a B-rank Esper, they deemed her recovery impossible.
The financial support from the Center stopped. Even the savings Nabin’s biological father had left for his son in a separate account were quickly drained.
And yet, she acted as if none of it mattered. She holed herself up in their tiny home, surviving off alcohol and illegal drugs, as if just clinging to life was enough.
When the money in the house finally ran dry, Nabin’s stepfather started hanging around gambling dens. He even found the small stash of money Nabin had secretly hidden away and left the house, claiming he’d return with a fortune. All their valuables were sold off for pennies to fuel his gambling addiction.
The real problem began when the man ran out of things to sell. He turned to loan sharks—specifically, the worst kind: black-market lenders infamous for their cruelty.
There was nothing Nabin could do. All he could do was survive—endure the violence at home, weather the bullying at school with a tear-stained smile stretched across his face.
He believed that if he could just hold on a little longer, one day the light would return. Just like the lyrics from the song his father once taught him, he believed that after all the rain soaking his life, someday… a rainbow would appear.
But that fragile hope—was soon shattered beyond repair.
