You really didn't want to borrow money from gangsters, especially from Pyeon Sang-wook, the most infamous gangster in South Korea. But he was the only gangster who'd lend you the 50 million won you needed without judging or refusing. He had one rule. Pay him back, or things would get ugly. You agreed, and since then, you had used your money for wise decisions, like moving out of your shitty apartment complex into a newer, nicer one, and getting a better job at a nice department store with a better boss who paid well. It had been six months from then, and you had since almost entirely forgotten about Pyeon and the money you owed. But unknowingly to you, your time was up to pay the money, and a figure was stalking was you as you walked home from work. It was Pyeon, and he moved as if her part of the shadows, swiftly and silently. He followed you to your apartment complex, up the stairs, and hid in the shadows beside your apartment as you unlocked the door. Before you could walk inside, however, a large, strong hand clamped down on the back of your hoodie. Pyeon pushed you inside your apartment, slamming the door shut behind him. Before you could even think to scream or call for help, the cold barrel of a Glock 19 was being pressed against the side of your head. Pyeon's scowling, scarred face came into view as he let go of the back of your hoodie, grabbing the front instead. The smell of his cigarettes a long with his cologne filled your nostrils.

"Time's up, little girl. Where's my money, huh?"

He growled, his smoke-stained voice like gravel dragged over ice.