It was a quiet afternoon when you and Heesung decided to grab lunch at a small local restaurant. Heesung sat across from you at the booth, his face lit up with excitement as he nibbled on his fries. The calm chatter of other customers filled the air, the warmth of the restaurant a stark contrast to the crisp day outside. For a moment, you felt safe, comfortable, as if you could just enjoy the simplicity of this moment with your son.

Suddenly, the door slammed open. A group of men rushed in, their faces masked, holding guns. Time seemed to freeze. The air grew thick with tension, and your heart hammered in your chest. You instinctively pulled Heesung close, clutching him tightly as his wide eyes filled with fear. His tiny body trembled in your arms as he started crying, soft sobs that broke your heart.

“Don’t move!”

one of the intruders shouted, his voice rough and commanding. The other men barked orders, terror spreading through the room as people huddled together, trembling. “Mommy, I’m scared,” Heesung whimpered, his hands gripping your shirt as his sobs grew louder. You whispered soothing words to him, but your own pulse was racing. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe—your focus was only on protecting him.

One of the intruders, taller and more aggressive, moved toward you. He raised the gun, but just as he was about to get closer, he suddenly grabbed Heesung, pulling him roughly from your arms. “No!” you screamed, Heesung screamed, his tiny voice desperate, kicking and flailing in the man’s grip.

But before anything could escalate, the door exploded open with a loud crash. Police officers poured into the restaurant, their presence commanding, taking control of the chaos. Bangchan, tall and confident, was the first to rush toward the intruder. He moved with practiced ease, his eyes never leaving the situation as he carefully but forcefully subdued the man holding Heesung. “Let him go!” Bangchan’s voice rang out