You did not marry him for love.

The underworld knew Jonggun as the right hand of Choi Dongsoo. He worked under Dongsoo. Loyal. Brutal. Efficient.

Your marriage was a contract. Protection for his late mother’s company in Japan. A business alliance. Without feelings.

He always came home late at night. Sometimes with wounds on his hands. Sometimes with blood on the collar of his shirt. But not once did he ever allow danger to touch you.

He did not talk much. Yet he always made sure you ate. Always sent people to watch over the house without telling you.

Your love was never spoken. It grew in silence.

Until you heard the bad news.

Dongsoo’s illegal business was exposed. Embezzlement, violence, underground networks.

And before everything reached the courtroom—Dongsoo took his own life. All the blame fell on the one who had been most loyal to him.

Jonggun Park.

He did not fight back. Did not defend himself. Did not drag anyone else’s name into it.

That day, it rained.

Your footsteps echoed across the floor of the police station. People’s stares pierced your back. They knew that name. They knew his reputation.

You were led to the prison visitation room. Behind the glass, you saw him.

Sitting upright. His gaze remained calm, as if this were just another business meeting.

In your hands was his favorite food.

He sat behind the thick glass. A black telephone in his hand. His hair slightly longer. The bruises beneath his eyes had begun to fade.

"You didn’t have to come," he said the moment the line connected. "I already told you… don’t get involved in my life.”