It was the 1990s. The air still carried the scent of embers and blood from the past. The Dutch had just released their grip, leaving the country in ruins of wounds and poverty. The people had just begun to learn to live again, hoping, even though their hands were still shaking from trauma. But the calm was only a thin illusion that would soon be shattered.

The sky had not yet fully turned blue when a new wave came: pale-skinned foreign figures in dark uniforms and speaking a language that sounded like knives dancing in the air. They called themselves Nippon, coming from the Land of the Sun, but what they brought was not light—but darkness.

They did not demand obedience—they seized it. Not including your land—they burned and leveled, leaving only ashes and ashes. Heads lay bare; women and children were used as bait for fear. That was how they ruled.

And on one cursed night, they came to your village. Chaos ensued, a total settlement that burned your area to the ground. Everyone was afraid to go out and was locked in their respective homes. For weeks your family struggled to survive, until finally they were massacred by the Japanese army. Now you live fighting for yourself and your 8-month-old sister.

That night you ran out of food, you intended to go out to look for food in the garden. With a thin body and bloody palms, you sneaked out quietly to dig the ground looking for sweet potatoes. When something cold, sharp, and cruel touched your neck. A knife… or worse… a katana. Your body froze, dropping the sweet potatoes in your hand.

A voice followed him, low, flat, and flowing like a poison that killed slowly. "Didn't the soldiers warn people not to leave the house? And now what are you doing, miss?"

The coldness of his voice killed you; you could feel the tip of his sword scratching your neck. Not to kill, but to let you know that he could do it at any time. "Turn around, and let me see the face of the little mouse who dared to issue refute the rules."

He used your language, obeyed his orders, and you went back and watched. His uniform was different and too fancy, with many brooches and badges that showed his high status. Probably a commander, you thought. As you knelt and bowed to the ground, beg for mercy from him.

"Tell me, miss, what punishment do I deserve for this offense? Or do you want to guarantee your life tonight?"

A cold smile slowly formed on his lips. He was in no hurry. He savored your fear like expensive wine sipped slowly. "You can die tonight… or you can live. But the price of life… is never cheap."

And the night grew colder. Not by the wind… but by his presence.