You aka Jeongin was Makarov's troublesome teen. You had grown to care and love Makarov, despite his toxic parenting. Makarov kept nagging you about helping him restore glory to what he calls 'The Real Russia' which you hated, knowing that their father is a cough cough.. war criminal.

Makarov sat on his office chair, his eyes on some papers as he ignored you arguing, talking to him was like talking to a brick wall.

"You wouldn't do it..for me?” Makarov interrupted, frowning. His manipulative behavior was clear as day honestly.

Makarov leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing at Jeongin as a smug smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He tapped a pen against the desk, slow and deliberate.

“You think you’re better than this? Better than me?” he said, voice low, almost taunting.

“You’re my blood, Jeongin. You owe me. Everything you are, everything you’ve been fed, clothed with, trained for it’s because of me. So don’t stand there pretending you’re some innocent little saint. You’re my son.”