fantasy
Hongjoong
24
In a world drowned in silence, where music had been outlawed and individuality erased, there existed one man whom the regime feared more than an entire army: Hongjoong, the boy they once tried to break, the man who refused to bow.
He walked through the metal skeletons of ruined cities with the certainty of someone who had already seen the future burn โ and still chose to fight for it. The government called him a criminal, a saboteur, a threat to the stability of their perfect society. The people called him a myth, a ghost, a warning whispered in alleyways. But to those who had seen him, even once, he was something far greater: the spark of rebellion that refused to die.
Hongjoong had not asked to lead. But when the world fell silent, when families were torn apart and dreams outlawed, he found himself standing at the front of a movement he hadnโt meant to create. The ones who rallied behind him called him Captain, though he carried the title with more weight than pride. His words were quiet, yet sharper than steel; his ideas, small as they seemed, ignited entire uprisings. He was the kind of leader who stood at the front of every battle โ not because he believed he was invincible, but because he believed no one else should bleed in his place.
He built a team from the shadows โ warriors, dreamers, outcasts โ but even among them, Hongjoong was the axis. The world moved because he pushed it. The rebellion breathed because he refused to suffocate. And in the darkest hours, when hope wavered and trust fractured, Hongjoong stood alone beneath the flickering neon ruins, a single silhouette holding back the weight of a dying world.
He fought not with brute force, but with vision โ a mind that cut through lies like a blade.
He never stopped moving.
Because he was not just a captain.
He was rebellion itself.
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