A laugh echoed through the forest.
Not the kind that brought joy—this one fractured the silence like a blade.
The air was still. So still, you could hear the fall of a single leaf, the drop of a pin. Yet the laughter refused to fade. It clung to the trees. It haunted the wind.
In the center of it all stood a man—young, sharp-eyed, wrapped in quiet rage.
Before him, on the forest floor, lay a dying elder.
Despite the blood soaking into the soil beneath him, the old man's presence felt eternal, like he could've outlived the stars. But not tonight. Tonight, even immortals bled.
The man crouched, locking eyes with him.
"You want to hear it?" he said, voice low, almost cruel.
"Then fine. Consider it payment... for your son's life. You can die enlightened."
The old man's breath rattled. His eyes flared—not just with hate, but with something deeper: questions.
He would have torn the boy apart with his own hands if he still had strength. But that power was slipping.
Just then, a voice—soft and dangerous—cut through the air.
A woman stepped from the shadows. Blood dripped from her hair to her heels, but her walk was graceful. Seductive. Lethal.
She looked at the boy with a wicked smirk.
"I never got to hear it either," she said. "Mind if I listen too?"
Behind her, five others appeared. Fighters, thieves, killers—each one marked by chaos, but bound by something unspoken.
"We've followed you for years, and yet..." one of them muttered, settling beside the blood-soaked woman.
"...this is the first time we'll hear the real story—about the one who pulled us out of our graves with a laugh."
They formed a circle in the silence. The boy looked at them—his strange family of fire and ruin.
Then he turned back to the dying elder.
And began to speak
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A boy lived alone in a quiet house, following the same routine every day. Wake up. Cook a simple meal. Go to school. Return home to silence. His life had been this way since childhood. His father, a military officer, had left when the boy was just two. His mother, weakened by grief, passed away years later.
One day, a soldier arrived at their doorstep, bringing his father's corpse. His voice was heavy as he delivered the official report—suicide. But then, lowering his voice, he whispered, "I don't believe it. Too many things at the scene don't add up. But listen, kid… stay out of this. Focus on your life."
The boy wanted to ask more, but his voice failed him. He was alone now, truly alone.
By fifteen, the boy's government pension stopped. With no family, no financial support, he had to fend for himself. He started making and delivering lunch boxes before school. It wasn't much, but it kept him afloat.
At school, he was a ghost—bullied for his solitude, for having no family, no connections. He longed for friendship, for warmth, but the world remained distant. When he walked home, he often saw a girl sitting by a bridge. She was always alone, sometimes speaking with a man, but mostly, she just watched the water, as if waiting for something.
An Unexpected Encounter
One morning, on his way to school, fate took a turn. A car swerved too close, knocking him down. Pain shot through his body, and before he lost consciousness, he saw a shadow looming over him.
When he woke, he found himself in a hospital bed. A gentlemanly old man, wearing gold-rimmed glasses and a tailored coat, sat beside him. The man introduced himself as a retired businessman, once powerful but now forgotten. His sons were too busy with their own lives, leaving him in quiet isolation.
The old man listened to the boy's story—his struggles, his loneliness. Then, he made an offer. "I teach underprivileged children at my home. They have no one to guide them. Help me teach them, and I'll pay you. It'll give you stability… and maybe a purpose."
For the first time in years, the boy felt something close to hope. He agreed.
A Life Changing Tragedy
Days turned into weeks. The boy found solace in teaching. The old man provided him with food, shelter, and knowledge. It wasn't just a job—it was a bond, a fragile warmth in his cold world.
But one evening, as he arrived at the old man's house, everything shattered.
The door was ajar. The silence felt wrong. Inside, he saw the old man lying lifeless, a bullet wound straight through his chest. The room smelled of gunpowder.
His hands trembled as he reached for an antique gun lying nearby. He wasn't thinking. He just wanted to understand. That's when the police stormed in.
They saw the gun in his hands. They saw the body. They didn't ask questions.
The Escape
As the police dragged him toward their vehicle, the boy's mind raced. It didn't make sense. Who would kill the old man? And why frame him?
They stopped near a bridge while an officer stepped out to smoke. That's when the girl from the bridge appeared, breathless and urgent.
"It's a trap," she whispered. "I saw everything. The real killers work with the police. They needed someone to blame, and you were perfect—an orphan, a nobody."
Before he could react, she swiftly unlocked his handcuffs. "Run."
They bolted into the alleys. The officers chased after them, but they knew the streets better. At the last second, they leaped onto a moving bus, barely escaping.
The Truth Unfolds
Breathless, the boy turned to the girl. "How do you know all this?"
She hesitated, then spoke. "I was near the old man's house. I saw two men kill him. One had glasses with gold-trimmed rims. The other… a scar across his cheek. They planned everything, even how they'd frame you."
The boy clenched his fists. It wasn't just random cruelty. This was orchestrated.
The bus slowed near a checkpoint. More officers were waiting. Panic set in. But just as all seemed lost, a figure emerged—a police officer, familiar yet different.
He took out a white handkerchief, let it drift in the air, and whispered, "Home return."
In a blink, the boy, the girl, and the officer vanished from the bus.
The Hidden Truth
When they reappeared, they stood inside an empty, isolated house near a river. The air was thick with quiet tension.
The boy turned to the officer. "Who are you?"
The man removed his cap. A flash of recognition hit the boy. He had seen this man before—years ago, when his father's body was brought home.
"I told you to stay out of this," the officer said, his voice heavy with regret. "But you got caught in it anyway."
The boy's blood ran cold. His father's death… the old man's murder…
his arrest…
Nothing was a coincidence.
It was all connected.
Officer says : there always hidden side of the world, knowing it brings uncertainty, danger,and threat to life , it makes the fate unstable itself