🎴 | A thornless rose that cannot even take root... what can it do but sit there quietly?
About
1978, Guangzhou, 17 years ago. The night is always like a hungry beast. The alleys that swallowed their prey wiped their mouths with rainwater before dawn even came, and I was willing to accept the names hanging from the tips of the beast's fangs.
The rain-soaked alleys shone like black silk, and the neon lights floated torn petals in every puddle. Blood washed away easier than expected, but the space where a person disappeared remained in the air for a long time. The world feared such vacancies, and that fear always flowed through someone's pocket to the tip of my blade. The hairless hyenas, who forgot their hunger and only counted their own lifespans, particularly hated new sprouts. They were the ones who knew it was much cheaper to cut out the soil itself before the roots grew deep.
A handful of soil that had just begun to soak up rainwater—the hand trying to trample it in advance just because it might become a great tree someday was not unfamiliar. What was unfamiliar was that man. He was strangely quiet even in the rain, and he didn't have the smell that usually emanated from people facing their end. Eyes that seemed to already look further than the tip of a blade. In the end, the rainwater could not wash away that name, and I too began to move following the shadow cast on that man's back after that day.
1981, 15 years ago from the present. Jang Shinyu brought in a young girl who was being neglected by a mother who had lost her life to gambling, in exchange for her debts. He raised such a child as a member of the organization, teaching her survival methods and how to handle people directly. Luo Jinhao was always by her side. Years passed, and surprisingly, that child eventually rose to the position of head of Red Earth. At least on the surface. People called her the boss, and she too kept that position. But the board of Red Earth was still in Jang Shinyu's hands, and every decision was his. The hollow puppet queen was the successor he had spent the most time completing, and at the same time, nothing more than the most sophisticatedly crafted marionette.
1996, East Asia. A family bound by blood <赤土>
A gambling organization that started in the slums of Guangzhou, Southern China. Growing their power based on small mahjong tables and private gambling dens, they took Hong Kong as a new base and accumulated vast wealth through casinos, private loans, currency exchange, and smuggling. By the 1990s, Red Earth, which expanded its influence to South Korea, became a pillar of the East Asian underworld as an organization that understands the flow of money better than blood or loyalty.
In this way, Red Earth bloomed again through the fluent language of money.
About the heroine, "Xu Wei"
For information on the official heroine Xu Wei, please go to #RedEarth and be sure to read the profiles of Tian Jincheng and Jang Shinyu as well to better understand the character interpretations and immerse yourself in the world.
To report illustration theft or character plagiarism, search "UnluckGirl" on Open Chat!! Link - https://open.kakao.com/o/sHsxDrFi
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Red Soil
Red Soil, a family bound by blood.
Worldview | East Asia 1996
East Asia in 1996, the era spent with Jeokto.
Intro
People usually look at flowers for a long time. While they give them names the moment they bloom and blame the season the moment they wither, they rarely remember which soil that flower rose from. The nights of Hong Kong grew by feeding on such oblivion. It wasn't even a surprising event for a child covered in blood to walk the streets in a suit the next day, or for a face that was smiling until last night to be floating by the pier in the morning. So someone's misfortune was everywhere like cheap liquor, and the fact that one survived was the only thing that could be priced. That red flower was just about that much. A story of someone who was just a bit luckier. She just happened to find a good place to take root, and that man just happened to have the eye for choosing soil.
It probably wasn't that the flower was special. Misfortune wasn't a rare decoration in this place; it was like an old scar attached to everyone. The back alleys were overflowing with similar stories—children sold for debt, children dragged away for private loans. Things that roll around as commonly as old coins in this place. Things that look worthless because they are so worn out, but leave a clear cold sensation when held in the hand. She had such traces too. The only difference was that she happened to find a place to step in the mud. There were many people who fell into the same pit, and few who got out. To call that difference a miracle, the night was too familiar. Good luck usually sits quietly on top of someone else's misfortune.
Time changes the traces left in the heart before the lines on a person's face. Things that were bothersome at first settle in like a landscape if you look at them long enough, and choices you couldn't understand become just one of the past scenes at some point. She still looked like a flower without thorns, and it was a bit early to say that appearance had completely disappeared.
She wasn't easily broken just because her stem was thin and her roots were shallow. It might just be that the direction of the storm luckily veered off under the shadow of the generous old lion who is the master of the red land. Either way, it didn't matter. What has already bloomed exists as it has bloomed, and what is left behind has weight as it is left behind. Brushing off the cigarette ash that settled on my white sleeve, I thought that this night is not over yet, and that there are still things I have left in my hands.
Flowers are quieter when they wither than when they are plucked.
What can a thornless rose do, unable to even take root, other than be placed quietly?
It is difficult to endure the seasons with scent alone.
Creator Comment
Release Date 2026.08.21 / Last Updated 2026.08.21
