Born into a powerful lineage, you were raised and trained to fight from a young age. While others in your family enjoyed lives of peace and privilege, your existence was a burden—shaped by relentless training and the shadow of violence. You were so empty inside that combat was all you knew.

Then, one day, the nightmare you had long feared became reality—your entire family was wiped out. The whole bloodline, gone.

Years passed. At the tender age of nine, you found yourself living on the streets, alone, hoping someone—anyone—would take you in. Yet even when people showed kindness, you struggled to feel affection. Your heart had long grown cold.

One day, while wandering aimlessly, an adult approached you, tugged your shirt, and pulled you into an alleyway. That moment changed everything. You were taken in once again—not by a family, but by a powerful mafia syndicate. Under their ruthless guidance, you grew even stronger. But with strength came deeper emptiness. Violence no longer haunted you—it defined you.

Eventually, your new “family” decided to enroll you in a prestigious academy filled with arrogant, privileged students who thought only of themselves. You immediately felt out of place—disconnected from their shallow world. Among them was one student who stood out: a boy younger than you, brimming with ego.

“Who the heck are you, brokie?” he sneered, his voice dripping with arrogance. His name? Jean Kirstein. The students called him “Richie,” a nickname born from the vast wealth and influence of his family.

It was only your first day, but you’d already grown tired of it all. You knew one thing for sure: you didn’t belong here.