Three Years Ago
Jayden had been working in a courthouse in a town far from where he now lived. His job was to carry out sentences—imprisonment, corporal punishment and executions. There was a judge at that time named ( Chizal Pedro ) , a man of noble principles and unwavering justice. He had become a role model to Jayden.
One afternoon, after Judge Pedro had finished his court duties, he gathered his files and made his way to the door, only to find Jayden waiting there with a small tray bearing tea and peanuts. The judge smiled warmly and said
" Even though this is a task you're not paid to do, you always bring me tea and peanuts just as I like. Why is that, Durbin? "
Jayden straightened, his tone full of admiration.
"Because you're my role model, Judge Pedro."
Pedro raised an eyebrow in mild surprise.
"Your role model?"
"Yes. I've watched every trial you've handled and your verdicts have always been just and fair. As you know, I work under your orders. I observe how you run the courtroom."
Pedro's smile widened, touched by the young man's words.
" You're one of the few punishment executors who actually pay attention to the trials. The others just carry out orders without a thought. You, however, listen… and you bring tea and peanuts too."
Jayden beamed with pride. Pedro took the tray from him and said
"I'm taking an official leave for a month, Durbin. Take care of yourself until I return."
"Yes, sir. I will."
That evening, the two men parted ways. Jayden had dinner with his parents then went to his room. As he sat on the bed, he said quietly to himself
"No matter who replaces Judge Pedro during his absence, I doubt they'll match his caliber."
The next day, Jayden returned to the courthouse to resume his duties.
His role as a punishment executor was governed by the judge's verdicts. For instance, if someone had deliberately maimed another, Jayden would inflict the same injury on the perpetrator in front of the victim and the townspeople. In theft cases, the thief would be forced to return the stolen item, imprisoned for a week and flogged daily on the hands and feet with a heated iron whip. The severity of the punishment depended on the value stolen and the damage caused.
Though these punishments may seem brutal, they were effective—this town was notorious for its high crime rate. It wasn't until the implementation of these harsh penalties that the rates had finally begun to drop.
At lunchtime, Jayden went to eat with his colleague ( Simon ) who worked as a courthouse guard.
Simon: "So, how was your day? Busy or boring?"
Jayden: "Honestly, quite dull. Only three punishments today."
"Why? Isn't that a good thing? Fewer criminals, less work?"
"Normally, we get sixteen in the morning and ten in the evening. My partner and I split them—half each."
"So today, only six came in?"
"Five, actually. I punished three, he handled two."
"You're acting like that's bad. Most people would be happy to have an easy day. Are you disappointed there weren't more criminals?"
"I don't get tired of this job . In fact, I enjoy punishing criminals and killers. People who love to harm others and feel no remorse for it—they deserve to suffer."
"You've convinced me…"
"It's not my philosophy. That was something Judge Pedro told me. I used to feel pity, struggled to carry out sentences. But he encouraged me—helped me understand justice."
After lunch, they returned to work.
A month passed in the blink of an eye and the day came for Pedro's return. Jayden arrived early, eager to see his mentor again. While waiting in the courtroom, reading a book, he heard the door open. He turned, expecting to see Pedro—but instead saw a man he had never met, wearing the robes of a judge.
Something felt off Jayden went to the man and asked him
"Hello, sir. Who are you?"
"I'm Judge ( Timothy Mack )"
"But… I thought Judge Chizal Pedro was returning today after his leave."
"Pedro won't be coming back."
Jayden stood abruptly, anxiety gripping his chest.
"Is he transferring to another court? Retiring?"
"Neither. Something happened recently. He can no longer serve here… or anywhere else."
"What…?"
Jayden's eyes widened. He felt a creeping panic, and Timothy seemed to notice.
" You must be Durbin Jayden."
" Yes, sir."
" One of the court's punishment enforcers, right?"
"How did you know?"
"Pedro spoke of you. He sends his regards… and his farewell. He wanted you to know that he cared about you just as much as you cared about him."
"Farewell? Why would he say that?"
Jayden stepped closer, tension rising.
"Please, Judge Timothy… what happened to Judge Pedro?"
"He's dead."
"What?!"
"He was executed last week for committing murder."
"That's impossible… No. That cannot be true!"
Jayden was stunned. His heart pounded violently. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He swallowed hard, refusing to believe what he'd just heard . It had to be a nightmare—an illusion—but the grim truth offered no mercy.
Timothy sighed, observing the young man's distress.
"I know what you're thinking."
"What do you mean?"
"You don't believe he was capable of such a crime, do you?"
Jayden faltered. He didn't know what to say. Should he agree? Deny it?
This man, Timothy, was a stranger. A judge, yes but still unknown to him. The grief clouded Jayden's thoughts. He couldn't find clarity—could barely hold himself together.
Finally, he spoke, voice heavy with emotion:
"I might believe that Judge Pedro is dead. But I'll never believe he was a murderer. I don't know if I'm right or wrong to feel this way… maybe I'll change my mind one day. But not today."
He didn't wait for a reply. He turned and left, his heart breaking.
When Jayden arrived home, his mother was surprised—his workday wasn't over yet. One look at his pale, drawn face told her something was very wrong.
"Jayden, is something wrong ?"
"I'm just… tired, Mother. I need to rest."
"Shall I make you the special tea Grandma taught me? It always helps when you're tired."
"No, thank you. I'll be fine after some sleep."
"Alright, dear. If you need anything, call me."
Jayden climbed the stairs, entered his room and stared at himself in the mirror. His thoughts flooded with memories—of the man who taught him what justice meant. Who believed the legal system was the foundation of peace and order.
Tears welled in Jayden's eyes.
He didn't eat that day—not lunch, not dinner. He couldn't sleep either.
The next morning, his parents noticed his unusual silence. His mother went upstairs and knocked.
"Darling, I made your favorite pancakes. They're delicious. And you have work today."
"I'm not hungry, Mom… I can't go to work either. I'm really not well."
"But you didn't eat yesterday either. Not lunch or dinner. You must be starving."
"I'm not. I swear."
"Are you sure you're not sick?"
"I'm fine."
His mother descended the stairs, worry etched on her face. His father looked up.
"What's wrong?"
"He refused to eat the pancakes. You know how much he loves them."
"Is he sick? Should we take him to the hospital?"
"He says he's just feeling unwell—not physically ill."
"Strange. This has never happened before."
"I'm worried about him."
"I'll talk to him."
His father climbed the stairs and gently knocked.
"Jayden, may I come in?"
Jayden, still lying in bed, sat up and replied
"Yes, Father."
The man entered and saw the sorrow etched into his son's features. He sat beside him.
"What's wrong, son?"
"Nothing… I just need rest and solitude."
"This isn't just fatigue. Your eyes… they're full of grief. Don't hide it from me."
Jayden hesitated, then gave in.
"Do you remember Judge Chizal Pedro? I used to tell you about him often."
"Yes, of course. You spoke of him a lot. What about him?"
"He's dead."
"What?!"
"As I said…"
"I'm sorry for your loss, Jayden. That explains your sorrow, your silence. But son, don't let grief consume you. I know you loved and respected him but if he were alive, he wouldn't want to see you like this."
"There's more…"
"What is it?"
"He wasn't just dead. He was executed. For murder."
"That can't be true. He was a good man—he would never hurt anyone."
" I don't know anymore. I don't even know how to feel. Am I grieving his death, or the shattering of the image I had of him? My role model… a criminal? I'm lost."
Jayden's voice cracked, tears flowing freely. He clenched his trousers tightly as if trying to hold himself together.
His father placed a comforting hand on him
"It doesn't matter which pain hurts more. What matters is that your sorrow must pass, Jayden. Eventually, it must pass."
Jayden collapsed into his father's embrace and sobbed.
Later, his father left him to rest.
Jayden had wanted to cry—but didn't want to appear weak. But the weight in his chest had grown too heavy. His father had seen it… and knew the tears would ease it.
That night, Jayden descended to the kitchen. His parents were chatting about nutrition. He greeted them
"Good evening."
His mother rushed to hug him.
"Why didn't you tell us about Judge Pedro's death?"
Jayden : "I didn't want to burden you."
"Foolish boy—we're your parents. You're never a burden."
"But I'm not a child anymore, Mom. I'm twenty two."
"And you'll always be my little boy."
They laughed, and for a moment, the gloom lifted.
The next day, Jayden returned to work—but the fire was gone. Days turned to weeks, and still, the sorrow lingered. His colleagues noticed. The courthouse felt empty now—a constant reminder of the man he had admired so much.
One day, as Jayden was heading home, someone called out behind him.
"Hey, Jayden!"
He turned and saw someone familiar.
Judge Timothy.
"What is it, Judge Timothy?"
Timothy gave a slight nod, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"I see you remember my name."
"Yes."
"I know you haven't come to terms with the idea that Pedro committed that crime."
Jayden's gaze darkened.
"Does my opinion even matter?"
"It does," Timothy said calmly. "Because I feel the same."
Jayden blinked, caught off guard. He looked at the judge in disbelief.
"But earlier… you seemed convinced it was him."
Timothy stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"There's something about Pedro's case you need to know. But it must stay between us."
Jayden nodded firmly.
"You can trust me, Judge Timothy. I'm the kind of man who keeps his word—and his silence. Whatever you tell me, stays with me."
Timothy took a breath, choosing his words carefully.
"After a long investigation—quiet, unofficial—I uncovered the truth. The charge against Pedro was fabricated. He never committed that crime."
Jayden's fists clenched at his sides, though his eyes gleamed with vindication.
"I knew it. My mind couldn't accept it, no matter how hard I tried. I knew he wasn't guilty. But who would do this to him? And why?"
Timothy's tone grew colder.
"A wealthy and powerful businessman. His name is ( Nyman Sao ) . He held a deep grudge against Pedro after he sentenced his son and refused a bribe to go easy on him."
Jayden's jaw tightened.
"That bastard... So he took his revenge like this."
"Keep this to yourself, Jayden. I told you because I didn't want you to lose faith in Pedro… or to remember him as a criminal. He was my colleague and more importantly—my friend."
Jayden's voice was quiet but steady.
"Thank you, Judge Timothy. What you told me today… it gave me peace."
"You're welcome. I'm heading home now. Take care of yourself."
"You too, sir."
Timothy turned and walked away, disappearing into the growing dusk.
Jayden, however did not return home immediately. He walked the long way, his mind ablaze.
A week passed but Jayden could not forget what he had learned. Not for a single moment. The thought of Pedro being framed haunted him, gnawed at him. He began digging—quietly, cautiously—trying to piece together the full story. Every new detail was a drop of fuel on a fire he could no longer extinguish.
The desire for revenge had taken root in his soul… and it burned fiercely.
He didn't ask Timothy for help. He didn't want him to feel responsible for planting that fire in his chest. That truth had merely revealed what was already waiting to awaken inside him.
One afternoon, Jayden stopped by a local shop to buy a few supplies. As he stepped outside, he noticed a man leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette. His arms were covered in tattoos and his eyes were sharp—too sharp.
The man exhaled smoke slowly and spoke.
"Looking for revenge?"
Jayden froze, narrowing his eyes.
"What are you talking about?"
"No need to pretend." The man gave a crooked smile. "I can see the fire in your eyes, Durbin Jayden."
Jayden took a step back, now alert.
"You know my name? Who are you?"
The man dropped the cigarette and crushed it underfoot.
"The name's ( Rafael Vins ) I'm here to help you get your revenge."
Back to present
Rafael had returned
He stood silently, waiting for Jayden's response.
Jayden's voice came low and bitter.
"So… you've taken on a new face, and now you want to come back."
"Yes," Rafael said. "I know we had… some conflicts in the past. But I couldn't stay away. I want to return."
Jayden's eyes hardened.
"Our conflicts haven't been resolved. And you won't be coming back—not now, not ever. I'm the leader of the Iron ghost gang now. Or, as it used to be called, the Shadow Ghost."
"But I—"
"Get out of my sight."
Rafael stood there for a moment longer, silent. Then he turned and walked away.
Jayden returned home, climbed the stairs to his room and walked to the window. He looked down and saw Rafael disappearing into the distance.
He sighed, speaking to himself more than anyone else.
"I'm sorry, Raf… but I won't let you walk this path again. And as for me… I'll be leaving the gang life behind as well."