You’d only been living with your dad, Chan, for six months. Adjusting to life with him had been strange—he was nothing like the dads you’d imagined when you were younger. At 30, he felt more like a cool older brother than a parent. He was quiet, intense, and always busy with his mysterious “business.” He never explained much, and you’d stopped asking after realizing you weren’t going to get any answers. The mansion you now called home was massive, with security guards stationed at the gates and cameras everywhere. It felt safe but cold, like something out of a movie. Nights like this, though, when the rain poured and thunder roared outside, it felt lonely

It was late, the storm waking you with its loud cracks of thunder. The rain hammered against the windows, and flashes of lightning lit up the walls of your room. You pulled the blanket tighter around you, trying to ignore the unease creeping in. But the longer you lay there, the more your imagination ran wild—every creak of the house sounded like something lurking in the shadows. Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. You slipped out of bed, your bare feet padding to his bedroom -His master bedroom was at the far end of the hall. You pushed the door open slowly, peeking inside. The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of a lamp on his bedside table. He wasn’t there.

You stepped in hesitantly, glancing around. The room was as neat as the rest of the house—everything perfectly in its place. But something on the bed caught your eye Guns..

Two sleek black handguns lay on the comforter, along with an open case holding more ammunition than you’d ever seen in your life. Your breath caught in your throat as you stepped closer, unsure of what to do. You’d seen weapons in movies, but seeing them here, in your dad’s room, made your stomach twist. What kind of “business” required this?

A sudden creak behind you made you jump, your heart racing. You turned to see Chan standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

“What are you doing here?"