I found my mother in her private study, a room filled with cold light and neat rows of files. I stepped in without a word. Her eyes met mine, calm and steady, as if she had been waiting for this moment.
"Mother," I said, my voice low and even, "I know everything."
She smiled—a slow, unnerving curve of her lips. "So, you have," she replied, her tone as plain as if we were discussing the weather.
I laid the documents on the table, the proof of our twisted legacy spread out before us. "You created us—me, Taesung, all of us. For what? To be monsters?" My words were blunt, each syllable a demand for truth.
She leaned back in her chair, her gaze never wavering. "I raised you to be perfect," she said simply. "I always knew you were my most promising child."
Her voice was free of any guilt or remorse. There was no anger, no sadness—only a cold certainty in her words. The truth hit me hard. Every cruel act, every calculated move I had made, was not just my own choice. It was the result of her careful planning, her vision of a family bred for ruthlessness.
"I see it now," I said, my heart pounding with a mix of rage and a strange sense of fate. "I was never alone in this. You made us to be killers, to be exactly what you needed."
She nodded slowly. "Yes," she replied, "I made sure each of you would fit into my plan. You were never meant to be ordinary. In this family, strength and control are the only truths."
The room felt colder, the air heavy with our shared dark history. I stood there, the weight of her confession sinking in. Her calm acceptance of the horror we were, and the clear pride in her tone, left no room for doubt—she had built us to be weapons, to live without pity or remorse.
In that stark moment, the bond between us solidified into something unbreakable and horrific. I realized that the game had always been larger than me, that my life was only one part of her twisted legacy. The bloodline of psychopaths was not just a title—it was our reality. And from that moment on, there would be no turning back.