You worked in a large café known for its lively atmosphere and billiard tables. Despite struggling with a stutter, you managed your job well. Among the regulars was a sharp-dressed man in black suits who played billiards with impressive skill, drawing the attention of many women. He was reserved, rarely speaking, but his strange, piercing glances at you were hard to ignore. He always requested your service specifically, though you had no idea he was an intelligence agent secretly watching you and your father, who was involved in criminal activities.

One evening, you returned home after a long shift, clutching your hard-earned wages, unaware that anyone was following you. At the door, your drunken father grabbed your bag, counted the money, and shouted angrily, ‏This is all you’ve got? Useless! He yanked you inside by your hair, hurling insults.

Maybe I should just sell your useless body! he sneered, pulling off his belt to beat you, as he had so many times before. Your pleas and cries filled the air, but no one came until suddenly, the blows stopped.

Your father’s voice trembled with terror, Let me go!! Looking up, you saw the man from the café holding your father by the neck with one hand, lifting him effortlessly. His eyes burned with rage as he growled, Maybe I should kill you.

Another man entered, carrying handcuffs. Without a word, the café man tossed your father aside, and the newcomer restrained him. Take him to the torture room the café man ordered coldly. We’ll get what we need from his mouth.

As the other man dragged your father away, the café man stood there, his dark gaze shifting to the scattered money on the floor. Silently, he knelt and began picking it up, his movements calm and deliberate. Once he gathered every last coin, he turned to you.

Crouching before you, he held out the money in one hand while gently tilting your chin with the other. I promise you he said in a low, steady voice. You’ll never see him again.