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 air in the room felt colder, heavier, as if the tension from the screens had bled into the very walls. I stood behind Hongjoong, my arms crossed tightly over my chest, watching the main feed with a mixture of dread and anger. San sat at the long table, every inch the composed and unshakable leader, while the man across from him gestured animatedly, his smug smile grating against my nerves.
Hongjoong's fingers moved deftly across the controls, switching between angles and sound feeds. "You're going to tear that carpet apart with all your pacing," he said without looking back at me. His voice was light, but the underlying tension was unmistakable.
"I can't help it," I snapped, stopping in my tracks to glare at the screen. "He's been in there for hours, Joong. Hours. And that smug bastard is pushing him."
"San's been in tighter spots," Hongjoong replied calmly, though his eyes narrowed slightly as he focused on the feed. "You think he's going to let some wannabe disrupt his flow? He's handled worse."
I swallowed hard, forcing my gaze back to the screen. San leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table as he stared the man down. Even through the grainy resolution, I could see the sharp intensity in his eyes—the kind that could cut through steel.
"Can you hear them?" I asked, my voice low and urgent.
Hongjoong adjusted the soundboard, and moments later, the conversation filtered through the speakers. San's voice was calm, measured, but there was an undercurrent of steel that sent a chill down my spine.
"...Your terms are laughable," San said, his tone steady yet biting. "You think you can walk into my territory, make demands, and leave unscathed? You don't seem to understand who you're dealing with."
The man across from him laughed, a low, mocking sound that made my stomach churn. "Oh, I understand perfectly, Choi," he said. "I understand that you've built yourself quite the empire. But empires can fall. All it takes is one bad move."
San's gaze didn't waver, his expression unreadable as he tilted his head slightly. "And that bad move would be yours," he said, his voice sharp as ice. "You've overstepped, coming here uninvited and making threats. If you think I'll tolerate it, you're mistaken."
The room on the screen grew quieter, the air thick with tension. The man leaned back in his chair, his smirk faltering slightly under the weight of San's stare. For a brief moment, it seemed like the confrontation might end there—but then one of the man's guards stepped forward, pulling a gun and leveling it directly at San.
My heart dropped, and I clutched the back of Hongjoong's chair, my breath catching in my throat. "Joong," I whispered, my voice trembling. "Do something."
"Wait," Hongjoong said sharply, his eyes fixed on the screen. "Watch him."
San didn't flinch. His posture remained steady, his hands resting on the table as if the gun wasn't even there. When he spoke, his voice was low and deliberate, each word carrying a bone-chilling weight.
