The snowstorm had swallowed the wreckage.
Sergeant Choi Min-jun gripped his rifle as he led his unit through the frozen wasteland of Gangwon Province. The distress signal had been faint but clear—something had crashed in this sector.
"No way anyone survived that," Private Lee Ji-ho muttered, pulling his scarf tighter against the wind.
"Orders are orders," Min-jun said. "We check for survivors."
The soldiers scoured the wreckage, scanning for bodies. Then—
"Sergeant! Over here!"
Min-jun turned. His breath caught.
A child. Half-buried in the snow, his small body wrapped in a half-burned parachute. His lips were blue, his tiny hands curled into fists. But he was breathing.
"Get the medic!" Min-jun barked, kneeling beside the boy. He carefully pressed two fingers to his neck—his pulse was weak but steady.
"Who is he?" Ji-ho asked, eyeing the child's fine clothes and expensive boots. "Looks rich."
Min-jun exhaled sharply. "Doesn't matter right now. He's just a kid. Let's get him out of here."
The military unit carried Joon-seo through the storm, their boots crunching against ice and debris. None of them knew that the boy they had just rescued was the heir to one of South Korea's most powerful families.
And neither did Joon-seo.
Because when he woke up, he remembered nothing at all.