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It was one of those days when winter was on its last legs, with the sun shining and warm enough for a sweater or a leather jacket. The snow was gathered in half-melted clumps across the ground, green…Continue
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Name: Jae Sung :|: Alias: Jason, Ghost King
Age: 89 :|: Looks: 28
Date of Birth: March 17th, 1928 :|: Place of Birth: Seoul, South Korea
Species: Vampire :|: Type: Turned
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Build: Muscular :|: Height: 6'5"
Hair Colour: Black :|: Eye Colour: Brown
Unlike the rest of my life, I had a beautiful childhood.
I was born in Seoul, South Korea, March 17th, 1928; to Kang Tae Sun and Kim Min Hee. My father was wise and kind, an elementary school teacher who always brought home letters and gifts from his adoring students when the school year was over. My mother was stoic and independent, and I have no idea what she did. To this day, I wouldn't be able to tell you. But whatever she did, it provided well for our family, for we were fortunate enough to live within the developing city limits. My parents were incredibly caring and loved me well. We lived happily and comfortably; an easy life.
But my happiness took a sharp downward turn when my mother left. There was no explanation, there was no note. There was nothing. One night, the three of us were sitting in the common room, the next morning she was gone. I couldn't understand why. My parents were in love, my mother cared for me. Back then, all I could do was cry and question. Why would she leave? I was left with my father at five years old, feeling a deep heartache that no child should go through. She was always my biggest mystery.
I say was as if she's dead now. Truth be told, she most likely is. I've not heard an inkling since she left. Sadness gone, now all I feel is bitterness.
But I digress.
My father and I managed along without her. He would take up extra teaching jobs at other schools and tutoring lessons after hours, and I would do more and more chores the older I got. At nine years old I was able to cook dinner for the two of us, and twelve years old, I managed to snag an apprentice job at the local forge. My job was to run tools back and forth, keep the fires stoked, and provide assistance to whichever blacksmith needed it. I know, a child working in a forgery would be illegal today, but back then work regulation wasn’t as much as an issue. And at least I got paid. Not much, but enough for my father to keep a roof over our head and food on the table.
The time carrying through my teenage years was nondescript and plain. The same routine everyday, wake up, school, work, repeat. Friends came and went, love affairs flourished and petered out, and my father grew older as I become stronger. I’d been promoted from apprentice to blacksmith at the forgery, and practiced with swords and knives in my spare time. Though my sword skills were average, my knife play was deadly. I could hit almost any target with the throwing knives I forged, and thwarted off thieves every now and then with a deep cut and a serious warning.
As I left my teens and entered my twenties, my father grew worried. I had some ridiculous testosterone-and-rebellion fuelled notion that I was a real hotshot. Someone untouchable, dare even claim immortal. I become arrogant and brash. Before, I would practice with my throwing blades on bales of hay, and only use my knives of defend from raiders. But then I would go looking for trouble on purpose. I’d gamble with others over their throwing skills and challenge them to duels using blades of their choice. Time and time I’d win my little games, without realizing I was also gaining scorn and spite from the men around me.
I raked in hundreds of dollars, all of which my father refused. He said using even a scent of my so called “blood money” would bring dishonour to his name and to our home. Eventually, he gave me an ultimatum: either I stopped gambling with lives, or I leave his home. Young and prideful as I was, I left my home that night, abandoning my father.
After leaving home, I sunk deeper into my unhealthy addiction. Quitting my job at the forgery, I became a creature of the night and a warden of the streets. I grew bored with the shallow games of the city men and began breaching the gangs and underground of Seoul. I became so drunk on my arrogance, I didn’t realize I was pissing off every gang and crime lord in the city. Every so often I would return to whatever inn I was staying at to find my room trashed and the innkeepers murdered. They were clear messages for me to stop.
I should have stopped. I should have returned home while I still could and begged my father for forgiveness. I should have returned to my nondescript life and married and had children and died like the average human.
But no. I continued on out of spite until innkeepers and landlords turned me away at the mere sight of my face. I was like a bad omen, brought on by my own obsession for power. This addiction eventually brought me to my death. I found the crime lord in the deepest belly of the underground. Unbeknownst to me, a Vampire lord who ruled over the supernatural black market. His terms to my challenge were that if I lost, I was to be recruited into his following - and that the blade match was to be to the death.
I don’t think I have to detail the outcome of a death match with an immortal being, but it ended with me dying on the floor, and his fangs piercing my neck.
The following days were a blur of pain and insatiable hunger. I felt as if my blood was turning to hot lead in my veins. My heart stopped beating and my lungs stopped breathing, but yet I lived, endlessly suffocating. After a few days they threw something at my feet, it’s smell intoxicating. I devoured it with some kind of primal hunger, only to come to the realization that it was a human, dead and drained.
In my arrogance, I had unwittingly agreed to be turned into a Vampire, and join the supernatural ranks. Frozen at twenty-eight, stronger and faster than I’ve ever been. Immortal and deadly. When I came over the panic of the transformation, I realized I’d become everything I’d ever wanted to be.
Maybe something’s wrong with me. Maybe that wasn’t the normal reaction to being transformed so dramatically, but I revelled in it. I served under the crime lord who the called the 거머리(geomeoli): The Leech. I learned the trade of organized crime: drugs, weaponry, assassinations, gold for killing phoenix, silver for torturing lycans, and so forth.
The Leech and his following ruled the Seoul underground for many years, but I eventually began to chafe under the leadership. I wanted to set my own rules, lead my own clan and hold influence over others. I was able to separate amicably with the Vampire lord, on the conditions that I leave my country and never return. I had to qualms with leaving. My father was long dead, gone from old age - I had no reason to stay.
For three years I bounced around the world, learning languages, absorbing cultures, and discovering new blades. I took on jobs for various kingpins, learning as much as I could about the business of organized crime. I learned so much, but was unable to put it to good use, until I heard of a city in the United States. A supposed sanctuary for all supernatural species.
A plan started forming. Organized crime involving the supernatural was something I knew intimately well. Packing my bags and collecting what little belongings I had, I took a one-way flight to Colorado, USA. in 1966, I arrived in Evermore city, worming my way through the city’s underground. It was pathetic and unimpressive - just some small gangs with petty turf wars and a small drug ring. It wasn’t hard recruiting followers and gaining influence. I made a point to keep my face and identity concealed from everyone but my most loyal followers. I’d sit in shadow in meetings, and became notorious for sending proxies to close deals or assassinate targets. But what no one knew is that I would go myself, charading as a proxy. There was no better way to keep my identity than to hide in plain sight. By 1967, I was Evermore’s biggest and most influential kingpin.
For fifty years I’ve ruled Evermore’s underground, and supplied both human and supernaturals alike. They call me the Ghost King, as I’m always around but never seen. When I’m out pretending to be a proxy, I go by Jason. No one needs to know my real name.
For fifty years everything ran smoothly. That is, until, the supposed Vampire monarch himself came to town. I have no intention of paying my respects to his Royal Majesty. I was born human, turned Vampire - as far as I see it, his ruling has no jurisdiction over me. But we’ll see how his presence plays out. I’ll steer clear of his business if he stays out of mine. I, for one, have never backed down from a gamble.
The ruling Kingpin of Evermore's seedy underbelly. For over fifty years, the Ghost King has controlled the underground, supplying weapons and contraband to human and supernatural alike. No one knows what he looks like, but the Kingpin will charade around as one of his own proxies', 'Jason'. 'Jason' will go around, completing assassination contracts, and closing contraband deals.
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