" ONE FAMILY,A THOUSAND SCARS ''

MAFIA

Three years passed like water flowing slowly over a stone.

MIA's feet were still bandaged. Her cane became her faithful companion. But in the small room of SAFIAH's grandmother's house, MIA never stopped learning.

SAFIAH's grandmother brought books one after another. Mandarin. Mathematics. Japanese. Korean. Chinese.

No teacher. No school. Just books and MIA sitting diligently, page after page.

She mastered everything.

MIA, who used to be strong and loud, is now quiet. But behind her silence, something has grown, something stronger than before.

One evening, MIA is walking alone in a narrow alley near SAFIAH's grandmother's house.

Her cane taps the floor with a slow and steady rhythm.

Suddenly, an old man about her father's age rushes in from the direction of the intersection, his breathing labored, his clothes soaked with blood.

"Please..." he almost falls.

MIA catches him calmly.

The man, MIKE, looks at her with panicked eyes. “Please hide me.”

Before MIA could answer, two large men emerged from the end of the hallway. Each holding a gun.

“Hey, kid. Did you see a man wearing a hat and a black jacket come this way?”

MIA looked at them. Her expression didn’t change at all.

“I saw,” she replied calmly. “He went to the left just now.”

The two men looked at each other, then ran in the direction indicated.

As soon as they were out of sight, MIA turned towards the small drain at the side of the hallway.

“You can get out.”

MIKE crawled out, his breath hitching. His eyes looked at the little girl on a cane in front of him in shock.

MIA, with a flat face, helped MIKE.

Grandma SAFIAH was shocked to see the bloody guest brought in by her grandson.

But she didn’t ask many questions. She just moved to get a cloth, warm water, and medicine.

MIKE sat quietly as his wound was treated, his eyes never leaving MIA, who was sitting in the corner of the room, reading a book calmly as if nothing had happened.

“What’s your name?” MIKE finally asked.

The girl looked up from her book.

“MIA.”

MIKE nodded slowly. In his heart, something told him that this little girl on crutches who had saved his life was no ordinary girl.

Far from ordinary.

MIKE had no intention of stopping.

He was just passing by the room, but his steps stopped when a small voice crept out from the crack in the door that wasn't closed tightly.

"Grandma..."

"Yes, honey?"

A moment of silence. MIKE heard SAFIAH's grandmother gently massaging her granddaughter's feet.

"Am I really her child?"

MIKE frowned.

"Why did MIA ask that?"

"I don't know..." MIA's voice was slow, like someone who was too tired to pretend. "Look what Dad did to me. Ever since I can remember... Dad said he didn't want to see my face."

Silence.

"Could it be that I cursed... as they say?"

MIKE swallowed. He turned his face away but didn't step away.

SAFIAH's grandmother didn't answer right away. And in that silence, MIKE understood that there was a wound that was too deep to be healed with words.

On Mike's last day at SAFIAH's grandmother's house, he stood in front of the door with a big black car waiting for him outside.

He turned to MIA, who was standing on the porch with a normal face, no smile, no obvious curiosity.

"I can help you become stronger than you think," MIKE said.

MIA didn't answer. Her eyes looked far away as if there was something being calculated in her head.

MIKE got into the car. The car moved slowly and finally disappeared at the end of the road.

MIA was still standing there.

A few days later, MIKE's phone rang.

SAFIAH's grandmother didn't sleep that night.

"MIA, you don't know her well yet.

"Grandma," MIA cut in slowly. "I know."

"But"

"I know what I'm doing, Grandma."

SAFIAH looked at her granddaughter for a long time. The eleven-year-old girl who sat calmly in front of her had eyes that were much older than her age.

Finally, MIKE promised SAFIAH: "I will take care of her like my own daughter."

And he kept his promise.

MIKE made MIA his adopted daughter. He trained MIA in everything, such as archery, swimming, and shooting. MIA learned everything quickly, meticulously, in a way that amazed MIKE himself.

But what surprised MIKE the most was when he found MIA in front of the computer screen, her fingers dancing on the keyboard quickly, penetrating a system that MIKE's own members had never managed to enter.

"You..." MIKE was speechless.

MIA looked at him. "Is there a problem?"

"Where did you learn this?"

MIA turned to MIKE. “Then smiled.”

MIKE sighed deeply. The fastest hacker he had ever met, and he was only eleven years old.

But it wasn’t easy for MIA.

Behind all those skills, there was an invisible wound. MIA needed to see a psychiatrist to address the illness that had been deep inside her since she was a child. She needed to take medication every day. If she ran out of medication, a severe headache would strike, and MIA would crouch in a dark corner, crying in pain that could not be explained in words.

On certain nights, MIA was short of breath.

And on those nights, only SAFIAH’s grandmother knew how to calm her down with a hug that had never changed since MIA was little.

At sixteen, MIA is no longer alone. She has a group and friends who each have different skills, united by a world they never chose.

LUCK, who always laughs even when the situation doesn't call for laughter. Her loud voice always breaks the silence of their meetings.

VIO is smart and always competes with MIA. She never admits defeat, even though she knows in her heart that MIA is always one step ahead.

TARR is hot-tempered and impulsive, but always looks to MIA when there is a problem. For some reason, only with MIA's side does she feel calm.

PENG is quiet and full of advice. In an often noisy group, PENG's voice, which rarely comes out, is always heard the most.

TING is gentle, a talented hacker, but can never match MIA's speed in front of the screen.

And MIA, who sits the most quietly in every discussion. Who listens to all the suggestions, all the strategies, all the arguments? And then, with one sentence, changes it all into something more cunning and more perfect.

"Agree," they say almost every time.

Except VIO. VIO never agreed easily.

MIKE came one afternoon with a little boy in tow.

MIA had just come home from school when MIKE handed the boy his bag and turned to MIA with an expression that was too calm for the situation.

“Take care of him.”

“…What?”

But MIKE had already walked towards the door.

“HEY!” MIA shouted.

MIKE stopped. Turned around.

“You call your father ‘Hey’?” Their relationship was getting closer and closer.....

MIA closed her mouth. Beside her, the little boy looked at them both with round eyes.

“Hey,” MIA said to the boy. “How old are you?”

The boy raised his hand. two fingers.

MIA turned to MIKE with a look of disbelief. “PA has a child this big?”

MIKE didn’t answer. He just said to the boy, TEOS “Hold your sister’s hand tightly.”

And he left.

TEOS held out his hand to MIA.

MIA looked at the little hand for a long time. Then, with a feeling he himself did not understand, he grasped it.

SAFIAH's grandmother came home from work and found MIA arranging drinks in the refrigerator, with TEOS sitting on the floor next to her.

"PA left her child with me," MIA said without turning around. "And now there's no news. Her mother is gone."

SAFIAH looked at her granddaughter. "Then why? MIA wants to raise the child herself? MIA is still in school."

"Someone has to raise her." MIA put down the last bottle and closed the refrigerator door. "She's just a little boy."

"MIA is still a little boy."

MIA turned away. And for the first time in a long time, she smiled a little, almost invisible, but there.

That night, TEOS sat by the table, looking at MIA, who was working.

"Can I call you... Sister?"

MIA put down her pen. Turning away.

"Of course. It's okay because I'm older than you."

TEOS smiled broadly. And inside MIA's chest, something warm moved slowly, like something that had been asleep for a long time, starting to wake up again.

MIA taught TEOS every night. Schoolwork, music, and little songs, even though she no longer played an instrument, she taught TEOS well. And every night before bed, MIA read a story to TEOS, who couldn't sleep without her.

In silence, MIA recalled her past. Her hopes of becoming a singer were shattered along with the guitar, along with her father's words.

But when TEOS laughed at her story, Mia chose not to reminisce for too long.

The name of the Korean mafia group, BAEK JEON, had long been a thorn in MIKE’s flesh.

They were not satisfied. MIKE had stopped the sale of weapons in his area, and BAEK JEON was not going to let that go by so easily.

Then MIKE disappeared without a trace, without a trace.

MIA and his friends gathered.

“Let’s go in,” said VIO, his eyes sharp on the map of BAEK JEON’s area. “Let’s find out where MIKE is and where the weapons are.”

That night, VIO, TARR and PENG entered BAEK JEON’s area in the dark, silent as shadows. TING and LUCK remained in the car, their eyes on the camera screen, watching. MIA stood outside, alone, calmly monitoring the entire operation.

Inside, everything was going smoothly until a sound broke the silence.

Clang.

TARR closed his eyes. The weapon he was holding fell.

Alarm. Footsteps. Voices from every direction.

“Get out! Get out now!”

They ran. When someone pointed a gun at TARR, PENG jumped and the bullet grazed his shoulder.

“PENG!”

“I’m okay — RUN!”

“MIA. GET IN NOW.”

MIA was inside before TING finished speaking. What happened in the next two minutes was hard to explain. MIA moved like water, dodging and attacking in the same motion. One by one, BAEK JEON’s members fell.

And then they got out, all six of them, safe.

In the car, VIO turned to TARR.

“Because of your carelessness.”

“Enough,” LUCK said.

“What we did earlier was all in vain,” VIO said slowly. “We came out empty-handed.”

A heavy silence.

Then MIA turned away from the window. She sat in front of TING’s laptop and opened the file of the operation camera recording earlier. Her eyes swept each frame carefully.

“There are a lot of their members in the back area at night,” MIA said, her voice flat. “There are a lot of bombs in the barrel next to the big door. Heavy weapons upstairs. The guards upstairs are not very busy because all the stuff is close to their leader’s location.”

Silence.

“How do you know?” asked VIO.

“Our camera footage.” MIA didn’t turn around. “And I heard the conversation between their small group just now.”

TING leaned back in her chair. “MIA is really amazing.”

VIO didn’t say anything. But this time she didn’t argue.

MIA was injured in the operation that night.

The scar on her back from the night she least wanted to remember was now growing with new scars. When the scar healed, MIA looked at it for a long time in front of the mirror.

Then she went to get a tattoo artist.

The tattoo covered everything—the hot porridge marks, the scars from the operation, everything. From the outside, it looked like art.

Only MIA knew what was hidden underneath.