Night in North Korea felt heavier than anywhere else in the world.
Not because of darkness.
But because even thoughts felt watched.
Kurayami stood alone on the edge of an abandoned structure, disguised as an ordinary laborer. From here, he could see rows of identical buildings—same lights, same silence, same fear.
He exhaled slowly.
"If that man dies tomorrow…" he thought,
"…these people will still kneel."
That truth hurt more than any wound he had ever taken.
---
The Realization
Kurayami had seen enough.
People owned mobile phones—but they were hollow objects.
No internet.
No freedom.
Only two or three channels, endlessly looping the same faces, the same praises, the same lies.
Children learned the leader's name before they learned their own dreams.
Families were forced to treat portraits like gods.
Not believing was a crime.
Forgetting was a death sentence.
Marriage was not a bond of love—
it was permission.
Even festivals meant submission.
There was no religion here.
Only loyalty.
Kurayami clenched his fists.
"These people aren't evil," he realized.
"They're trained."
---
Fear That Survives Death
He remembered the fire.
The father.
The child.
The question about portraits.
And the bullets.
Not because they hated him.
But because fear demanded proof of loyalty.
Kurayami closed his eyes.
"If I kill the one sitting at the top," he whispered,
"the fear he planted will still rule."
The army would remain.
The weapons would remain.
The nuclear buttons would still exist.
And the people…
They would still wait for orders.
---
The Decision
Back in the hidden Red Circle base, the team sat in silence.
Kurayami finally spoke.
"We are thinking wrong," he said.
Maya looked up. "Wrong… how?"
"We keep treating this like every other country," Kurayami continued.
"But this place doesn't need liberation."
"It needs re‑learning."
Riku frowned. "You're saying we stay?"
Kurayami nodded.
"Yes."
Arin's eyes widened. "That's not a mission. That's occupation."
Kurayami shook his head.
"No," he said calmly.
"It's responsibility."
---
North Nepal — A Thought, Not a Border
Kurayami turned to the map.
"This land doesn't need a new king," he said.
"It needs a new idea."
"In Nepal, even with pain, people argue. Question. Protest. Dream."
He paused.
"What if this place learned that?"
"What if we build something here—not a regime—but a system?"
He spoke the words slowly, carefully:
"North Nepal."
Not as a country name.
But as a promise.
A land where:
no child bows to portraits
no family dies for forgetting a photo
no marriage is owned by power
no soldier fires because fear told him to
---
Everything That Was Wrong
Kurayami listed it all—cold, clear, undeniable:
No free media
No free thought
Education as propaganda
Fear passed from parent to child
Military worship above humanity
Nuclear weapons used as leverage, not protection
Citizens treated as property, not people
"This isn't governance," he said.
"This is survival training for slaves."
---
The Burden
Lily stepped forward.
"If you stay," she said softly,
"you may never leave."
Kurayami looked at her.
"I know."
"If I die," he continued,
"at least they will know one thing."
"That fear is not natural."
"That obedience is not destiny."
"That someone chose to stay… not to rule them… but to protect them from power itself."
---
Ending
That night, Kurayami removed his hood.
Not as an assassin.
Not as a ghost.
But as a man who had made a choice.
"This country won't change fast," he whispered to the silent land.
"But I will carry it."
"Even if it crushes me."
Far away, a child listened to a forbidden signal again.
This time, he didn't just wonder.
He remembered it.
And that was enough to begin.