Mirror ✔ (VegasPete)

Chapter 8: Forgiven

Year : 1991

Kun never wanted to achieve anything in his life.

As a twenty-four year old mafia descendant, giving little to no effort to compete with his genius older brother when it comes to embezzlement, loan sharking, not even gambling— were enough for the whole household to give him a weak reputation, driving his father to provide him nothing but a shelter to sleep in.

People would often call Kun names—"the benched heir", sloth, and the infamous title "gigolo". With his high cheekbones, harsh eyes, and tangy demeanor that adds more seductive flavor compared to Korn's mysterious and cold bearings... Kun has more natural and raw features to lure important clients in his bedroom— specifically, older women.

"Good job," his father once said after he successfully closed a deal with their Singaporean client, thick tobacco was burning between his left fingers as he gripped and squinted his eyes on the morning newspaper in the other— refusing to see the hickeys all over his son's neck, "Dismissed."

Kun left his office without uttering a single word.

Honor . That's what his father treasures the most.

Which was... Non-existent for Kun.

His father never voiced his disappointment in him. Yes, he would reprimand him with his one line philosophies— an annoying trait that Korn got from him, but his displeased eyes would always nail his true judgment regarding Kun's way of dealing things.

Like he was insufferable... Disgraceful...

A failure .

"Chin up, Kun," Korn rebuked. Looking so fancy in his open buttoned dark green shirt as they stood in front of the facade of their manor. His hair was slicked back as some short strands hung against his forehead, "She is papa's special guest. Be and look polite."

Hands intertwined behind him, Kun eyed the closed large gate past the mothy fountain. His quiff hair and velvet shirt were starting to tick off his scalp and skin, putting him in a sour mood at 9 am.

"It's not a client?"

"She. Not it," Korn corrected as he twisted his heirloom ring, "I think papa would appreciate it if we get into her good side since she'll live with us at the time being."

Kun eyed Korn's ring for a moment before smirking.

"That's not a problem to me."

Korn looked at him, unimpressed.

"She's not a client for you to touch, Kun," a warning, "She is papa's former colleague's daughter."

Kun looked at Korn, confused.

"Former colleague?"

Korn tilted his head as he focused his gaze on the splashing water of the fountain. He shifted his legs to the other side— then got back on his original position immediately, a mannerism of his whenever he is skeptical of saying something.

"Before papa took over the main family, he had a female head bodyguard who helped him throughout his coup. I didn't know the details other than that, but when that head bodyguard got pregnant, papa miraculously let her resigned, unschated and lived peacefully."

Kun clenched his jaw and straightened his gaze, eyeing the stone angel that's holding a large jar above the fountain as an untouchable chill crawled in his spine.

"Well..." Kun lingered, "What's bothering you about that?"

Korn's tongue poked his cheek and contemplated for a second before speaking.