Choi San, a revered and feared mafia boss, reigns over Seoul's underworld with an iron fist, his influence extending seamlessly across both legal and illegal domains. But his empire is shaken to its core when his beloved daughter, Eun-ji, is kidnapp...
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The next morning was cold and quiet, the kind of stillness that presses down on everything. I sat in the conference room, my eyes scanning the reports from last night's mission, but my mind was elsewhere. Things had been tense for weeks now—between Wooyoung, San, and everything that had unraveled. It felt like the whole team was on the verge of something breaking.
Just as I was about to focus on the report again, the door opened, and Wooyoung walked in. I glanced up, immediately sensing something was off. He wasn't dressed like his usual self—no tactical gear, no casual hoodie. Instead, he wore black jeans, a fitted black shirt, and a leather jacket, the kind you throw on when you're planning to disappear for a while. A packed bag was slung over one shoulder, and the look on his face told me everything I needed to know.
He was leaving.
I stood up slowly, taking in the sight of him. "Wooyoung," I said cautiously, knowing this wasn't going to be a casual conversation. "What's going on?"
Wooyoung's expression was tight, the calm he usually carried replaced by something darker, something heavier. He didn't meet my eyes right away, just exhaled a long breath, his fingers gripping the strap of the bag a little tighter. "I'm leaving," he said quietly, his voice rough, like he hadn't slept.
I frowned, stepping around the table. "Leaving? What do you mean? You're just going to walk out?"
He finally met my eyes, and I could see the exhaustion, the hurt, the anger—everything he had been carrying for so long. "I can't stay here, Seongjun," he admitted, his voice low but resolute. "I need time to get away from all of this. From San. From the team. From everything."
I sighed, nodding slowly, not entirely surprised but still unsettled. "You really think leaving's going to fix it? You can't just run from everything, Wooyoung."
Wooyoung's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I'm not running," he said, though there was an edge in his voice. "I just can't keep doing this. Every time I see him, it's like I'm reminded of everything that's gone wrong. He has a wife, Seongjun. And I... I can't deal with that. I can't deal with any of this."
I crossed my arms, leaning against the edge of the table as I studied him. "You're just going to leave without saying anything? What about the team? What about San? Have you talked to him?"
Wooyoung shook his head, his grip tightening on the strap of his bag. "There's nothing left to say to San. Not right now. I told him I don't want to be part of this mess anymore, and I meant it." His voice softened, a trace of pain creeping in. "I can't stand being here, being around him. It hurts too much."
I sighed again, running a hand through my hair. I could see how much Wooyoung was struggling, and I wasn't going to push him into staying if he felt like this was what he needed. But I also knew that leaving like this wouldn't make the pain go away. It would just follow him, no matter where he went.
