Flashback:

  South Korea.

  Bok Jin-Ho sat on the edge of his bed, a lit cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. With each puff, he waved the smoke away from his face. The walls of his room were bare, painted an unwelcoming white. There were no posters, no photos—just emptiness. When he heard the front door creak open, Jin quickly snubbed out the cigarette, frantically fanning the smoke before chucking the butt out the window.

  "I'm home!" a voice called.

  "Welcome home!" Jin shouted back.

  The footsteps drew closer until a middle-aged woman with brown hair stepped into the room. Her face immediately contorted with disgust at the lingering smell of smoke.

  "Jin, I told you no smoking in my apartment! That crap sticks to everything."

  "Sorry, Aunt Jess. I just needed something for the stress, ya know?" he replied.

  "Then grab a snack or eat some damn fruit." She sighed deeply, exasperated.

  "Look, I know living with your dad gave you freedoms you shouldn't have had, but it's different here. God, this is why I never wanted kids."

  "Yeah," Jin muttered. "Kids can get in the way. Might even kill you."

  "No, Jin. I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant."

  "But it’s what you said," he replied. "My dad always said people speak louder with their actions than their words. He might not be perfect, but he’s still my dad. And it'd be nice if you two could get along—for me."

  "Easier said than done. Your father and I never got along—not even when your mom was alive. I still remember the day he pawned off one of our mom’s jewelry boxes. And your mom just defended him. Always. Look at you—he let you smoke in the house! Hell, for all I know, he gave you your first pack."

  "He didn’t," Jin replied. "My first pack was actually my mom’s last. After she passed, I went through her stuff looking for something to remember her by. I found the last pack she ever bought and thought… 'What the hell.'"

  Aunt Jess looked taken aback. "And what did your dad say when he found out?"

  "He told me not to get ash on the couch."

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  “You see Jin, that’s what I’m talking about. No parent should be allowing their children to partake in something as dangerous as smoking. Let alone to do it so openly as you do.” Aunt Jess contested.

  Aunt Jess walked over to Jin’s bed, where she sat next to him. Neither of them talked, allowing an uncomfortable amount of silence to fill the room, and the space between them.

  "I heard about your friend. I’m sorry."

  “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not. You boys should’ve been in school. Not running the streets for money or God knows what.”

  “I wasn’t – “

  “It doesn’t matter what you were doing Jin. You weren’t where you were supposed to be. People lost their lives. You almost died. That’s all I know, and that’s all I need to know. Listen, the judge- “

  "Fuck that judge!" Jin snapped.

  “Listen! The Judge is willing to give you an out due to you being a minor.” Aunt Jess explained.

  Jin’s tone shifted. "Seriously? I take back what I said. What do I have to do—community service? How much?"

  "It’s not about what you have to do, but where you have to go."

  Jin’s brow furrowed. "What does that mean?"

  End of flashback.

  Present day.

  Jin opened his eyes. A second ago, he was in the small stadium inside the VBL building. Now, he stood on a long, desolate railway track stretching into infinity. He wore a crisp black two-piece suit with a matching tie. In each hand, he held the Twin Wing Pistols.

  A few yards ahead, Maximillion stood with his body turned slightly sideways, dressed in a sharp white suit, his left hand casually tucked into his pocket. A pair of white sunglasses shielded his eyes. A breeze picked up, stirring loose dust between them.

  "You’ve really shaken things up these past few months," Maximillion said. "We’ve never met until now, but I’ve seen your matches. You’re an enigma."

  “Enigma, prodigy, thug. Everyone is trying to tell me what I am.”

  “Well, what would you call yourself?” Maximillion asks.

  Jin briefly recalled his aunt’s voice, followed by a flash of his father’s face. His smile faded.

  “A survivor.” Jin claims.

  Maximillion’s eyes widened. In that instant, a memory flashed—of himself years ago, standing at a hospital bedside.

  He smirked. "Let’s put that to the test."

  Max finally pulled his right hand from his pocket, revealing a Rail Gun, which fired instantly. The beam hit Jin square in the head. His body crumpled-

  - to the ground as a high-speed train thundered by. The sheer wind force kicked up dirt and debris in its wake. Then another train. And another—each passing from a different direction. Eventually, Jin stirred. As he struggled up, he felt cold steel press against the top of his head.

  "Well then, prodigy," Max said. "Survive."

  “I intend to.”

  Jin tilted both pistols upward and fired a charged angel shot, blasting Maximillion off his feet. As Max flew backward, he laughed.

  Jin rose to his feet. "This is going to be fun."

  Max, grinning even wider now, replied, "Yeah, it is."