UNWANTED SCARS. | sunsun

[03] cold towel

sunoo focus
gyeonggi-do, sn's home

"so, as i mentioned," began mr. kim, kim sunoo's father but also known as the leader of a huge gang rooted in south korea, as he sticked his fork into the thick, grilled to perfection steak he was being served by his son's chef.

as he sliced into the piece, steam rose around him, and the sound of the knife against the plate reverberated in the silent room. he observed as the waiter poured the red wine into the tall, fancy glass before swirling it elegantly.

at the other end of the table, sunoo surveys the spacious dining area, feeling the palpable tension and hushed atmosphere. the maids, typically cheerful in his presence, now lacked their usual smiles as their faces are lowered and their hands pressed together.

"you're clearly making everyone feel uncomfortable," sunoo finally remarked with a scowl, placing his fork on his untouched plate, "it's about the mission, right? get it out there already." his voice was firm, his eyebrows knitted in annoyance.

just hours ago, he was having a blast at a motel. waking up with a headache and finding his dad at the door was not the way he wanted to kick off his day.

the gang leader raised his chin proudly, or so he thought — because to kim sunoo, he appeared nothing more than an egotistical jerk.

"so you've already seen the files. if you've gone through it, you probably already know, but if you haven't, here's basically what's most important: i need you to spy on the biggest south korean mafia gang. what's your decision, son?" he asked bluntly, his words laden with expectation.

"what now, dad" sunoo's response was laced with bitterness, a reflection of the pain that lingered beneath the surface. the tension in the room was intense, suffocating almost. he clenched his jaw, battling the conflicting emotions raging within him.

then he fixed the position of his glasses before his gaze flickered up from his plate, meeting his father's steely eyes.

"you're asking me to risk my life for your dirty dealings again?"

"you have no idea what it takes to protect this family, to keep us on top. loyalty runs thicker than blood, remember? like it or not—" he cleaned the corners of his lips with the napkin, watching sunoo's hands slowly forming into a fist. "—sacrifices have to be made."

sunoo scoffed, the bitterness in his tone noticeable.

"sacrifices? is that what you call it? sending your own son to do your dirty work while you sit comfortably behind your desk, counting your blood money?"

"..."

the son's laughter was bitter, devoid of any humor.

"alright, let's say i'm willing to do it, then what? are you going to watch me die like all the other spies you've sent, not caring whether they're dead or not? you're just going to send some money for the funeral and that should be enough to cover the damage, right?" his words cut through the air like a knife, slicing through the façade of familial respectability, "just be honest, you've never even cared about anyone in this—"

but even as the words left his lips, sunoo knew that defiance came with a price. the sharp slap of his father's hand against his cheek served as a brutal reminder of the consequences of his rebellion, the weight of his father's grip on his collar a suffocating reminder of the power he wielded over him.

struggling to maintain his composure, he rose from the creaking chair and from the corner of his eyes he noticed the subtle shift of the bodyguards inching closer, their presence looming like silent sentinels but he waved the bodyguards away, silently daring his father to make his move.