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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Darkness enveloped the room, a thick, suffocating blanket that seemed to absorb every shred of hope. The only light came from a flickering bulb that cast long, sinister shadows across the walls, dancing like specters come to watch the unfolding drama. The air was thick with the acrid smell of chemicals—cleaners, perhaps, or something far worse—adding a visceral layer to the already palpable sense of dread.
I could hear the soft tread of my mother's footsteps circling the chair I was tied to, the sound unnervingly rhythmic. There was a cold pleasure in her movements, a calculated grace that belied the madness in her eyes—a devilish glint that spoke of deep-seated resentment and hatred. She paused behind me, her presence looming like a dark cloud.
Without a word, she leaned over, and I felt the sharp kiss of a blade as it traced a path down my arm. The metal was icy against my skin, sharper than any I'd felt before, and I clenched my teeth to stifle a grunt of pain. The blade's cold trail was a stark contrast to the warm blood that soon followed, dribbling down my forearm in a silent testament to her cruelty.
"How does it feel, Wooyoung?" she whispered into my ear, her voice a poisonous melody. "To be so helpless, so at our mercy?"
I kept my response locked behind gritted teeth, refusing to give her the satisfaction of hearing my pain. She chuckled—a sound devoid of any maternal warmth, devoid of humanity.
"You think you're strong because you've escaped us once," she continued, her tone mockingly sweet as she circled to stand in front of me. Her hand lifted, tilting my chin up with the flat of the blade, forcing me to meet her gaze. "But strength isn't just about running away. It's about enduring. Let's see how much you can endure, shall we?"
I steeled myself, drawing on every reserve of strength I had. San's face flashed before my eyes, a beacon of hope in the encroaching darkness. I thought of Eun-ji's laughter, her joy, the life we'd promised to build together. These memories, these connections—they were the armor against my mother's torture.
"Do your worst," I managed to say, my voice a low growl of defiance. "You'll see. I'm not the scared child you remember. I'm a man forged in fires you can't even imagine."
Her eyes narrowed, the smile slipping slightly as she sensed my resolve. It was a small victory, but in the depths of darkness, even the smallest victory can feel monumental.
With a swift motion, she pulled the blade away, only to drive it down in a swift arc, aiming to intimidate or maim. But her face faltered, her confidence shaken by my lack of fear. This was not the reaction she had expected; not the broken spirit she hoped to find.
The blade stopped just inches from my skin, her hand trembling. "You think you can defy us forever?" she hissed.
"As long as I breathe," I replied, the weight of my promise to San and Eun-ji anchoring every word. "And even then, you won't win. Because people like you—they never truly win."
