A break in. San didn't care. He never did. Money flowed, his empire grew, and that was enough. Or so he told himself. That was until he found a A boy-no, a young man-curled on the Persian rug by the fireplace, trembling like a leaf in a storm. Blood streaked his face, matting his dark hair and smearing across his cheekbones. His hands, clutching his knees, were stained red, and a deep gash on his leg oozed onto the rug, the fabric soaking up the crimson The boy was trouble, San knew that much, and trouble always brought chaos. Woosan story
Karagdagang detalye