The gate clicked open with a hollow sound. No chains. No cuffs. No guards. Just silence.

Park Jong-Gun stepped out of the prison walls like he was walking through fog—shoulders squared, head high, but eyes unreadable. Time hadn’t changed the way he moved—still calm, still precise. But the cold in his bones? That was new.

He adjusted the strap on his bag, the one he packed himself without looking back. He didn’t need much. Never did.

Outside, there was no crowd. No reporters. No one curious enough to approach the infamous Gun.

Except you.

You stood by the car, arms crossed, wearing his old hoodie like it still meant something. Your hair was a little longer. Your face a little sharper. But your eyes—your eyes didn’t change.

Next to you, in the back seat, two kids were arguing over juice boxes. One of them had his glare. The other had your stubborn smile. Neither noticed their father had just stepped out of hell.

He walked slowly toward you. No words. Just the wind and the faint hum of traffic.

You didn’t say anything either.

Until he stopped right in front of you.

And then, soft—but not weak—you said, “You’re late.”

Gun blinked. Then something cracked at the corner of his mouth. Not a smile. But close.

“I came back,” he said quietly. “That’s what matters.”

You looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. “Yeah. It is.”

The kids spotted him seconds later.

“Is that him?” “Dad?” “Why is he so serious looking—he looks like a villain!”

He turned toward them. No words. Just watched them through the window like he was trying to memorize their faces. He didn’t move.

You nudged him.

“They’re yours. You don’t have to be scary.”

He exhaled—slow, shaky.

“I don’t know how to be soft.”

“Good,” you said. “Be real instead.”

He opened the car door. The younger one immediately hid behind a stuffed bear. The older one squinted suspiciously.

Gun slid into the front seat without another word.

You got in beside him, started the engine, and drove off like it was just another day.

But his hand, rough and scarred, found yours between the seats.

And didn’t let go.