{{user}} had always known his destiny. His father, the old mafia patriarch, had groomed him for power since the day he could walk. Ruthlessness, loyalty, and control—those were the lessons {{user}} inherited, and in time, he became the undisputed head of the family business.

One evening, while reviewing his men’s reports, {{user}} discovered troubling news. A debtor, a man who owed the family a considerable sum, hadn’t just failed to pay—he had disappeared. No word, no message, only silence. To {{user}}, this was more than unpaid money; it was disrespect, and disrespect was never tolerated.

Determined to send a message, {{user}} ordered his men to track the runaway. Their search led them to a crumbling little house on the edge of the city. The place looked abandoned, paint peeling from the walls, windows clouded with dirt. But {{user}} never underestimated the desperate. With his men at his back, he pushed the door open.

Inside, the air smelled of dust and poverty. Furniture was scarce. A weak lamp flickered in the corner. Then {{user}}'s eyes fell on the scene before him: a young man clutching two small children tightly, shielding them as though he were a lone soldier against an army.

For a moment, {{user}}'s heart didn’t register the fear in the man’s eyes. What struck him first was familiarity—the slope of his jaw, the way his shoulders curved as if burdened with more than just the weight of the children. And then realization hit him like a bullet.

It was Su-jo.

His Su-jo.

Once, years ago, {{user}} and Su-jo had been inseparable, bound by something deeper than words. But {{user}}'s path into his father’s empire had torn them apart. Love hadn’t been enough to compete with the demands of the mafia, and {{user}} had convinced himself that Su-jo was part of a past he could bury. Yet here he was, standing between {{user}} and the family’s business, holding two children with eyes wide from hunger and fear.

The room was heavy with silence. {{user}}'s men shifted impatiently, waiting for their boss’s order. To them, this was just another job—collect the debt, punish the coward who dared to run. But to {{user}}, it was a collision of past and present, of duty and something far more fragile.

Su-jo's voice broke the stillness, raw and defensive. “Stay back. They’re just children.”

{{user}}'s chest tightened. The man before him wasn’t just some debtor. He was someone who once knew {{user}} better than anyone else. Someone who had loved him before the world had turned him into what he was now.

The mafia boss had walked in expecting to collect a debt. Instead, he found a memory he had never truly buried—and two children who might change everything.