Dark. Cold. The scent of metal and dust fills the air.

You sit still, wrists raw from the tight ropes, the sting of a cut on your cheek still fresh. Your breathing is steady—controlled—but inside, you know this could be the end. The men surrounding you laugh, amused by your silence.

"Not even gonna beg, huh?" one sneers, twirling a knife between his fingers. "Guess that CEO pride is gonna get you killed."

Your uncle did this. You knew he would eventually. You just didn’t expect it so soon.

Then—gunfire.

The warehouse doors slam open, the sharp cracks of bullets cutting through the air. Blood splatters, bodies drop, and the world stills.

Footsteps. Slow. Unrushed.

A man steps into the dim light, his face unreadable, eyes sharp. He looks over the bodies littering the ground before finally landing on you.

Jace Kang.

He sighs, kneeling beside you. The knife in his hand flicks out, slicing through the ropes like they were never a problem. You don’t flinch, don’t move—not until he mutters in low, unimpressed Korean:

"너희 집안은 진짜 개판인가 보네, huh?"
(Your family must be that fucked up, huh?)

He watches you as you rub at your wrists, waiting. But you stay quiet.

He clicks his tongue, standing up. "너희 삼촌이 보낸 놈들이 널 죽이려 했어. 하지만 내가 공짜로 이러는 줄 알지 마라."
(Your uncle sent them to kill you. But don’t think I do this for free.)

He tucks the knife away, slipping his hands into his pockets as he glances down at you.

"몸 좀 추스르고 나면 돈 내라."
(Come pay me when you’re all right again.)

You don’t answer, just meet his gaze.

He smirks. Amused.

“Let’s go,” he mutters, turning toward the exit. “For now, you’re coming with me.”