He opened the door to his study and threw me on the floor.“Ow” I said rubbing the back of my head feeling a dull pain coming from it.The door opened and Yeon-seo walked in, she sat on a leather chair like a queen sitting on her throne.She looked at me the way an actual queen would look at a commoner that was covered in dirt and piss.“You have some nerve showing up here,” she said, wrinkling her nose.“This is my father's funeral, I have the right to be here! It’s my house …”“Your house?” Ji seok laughed sharply and cruelly. “Not only are you useless, you're delusional”.Han Yeon-seo pulled out a folder and slid it across the desk.“Your father's will was read this morning, you weren't mentioned”.The words took a moment to land. “What?”“Not a single won. Not a single property, your name wasn't even mentioned, not once”. She smiled mockingly. “It's like you were never his son”.My hands shook as I reached forward and grabbed the folder from the desk.I knew it deep down, I alread

I glanced at Woo rim and he smiled then gave me a thumbs up. That little gesture suddenly lifted my spirits and I followed the manager. We stopped at a door at the far end of the store completely unnoticeable. He opened the door and we stepped in. The office was cramped, barely enough room for the desk, two chairs and a filing cabinet. A security monitor sat at the corner of the desk, cycling through grainy footage of the store,visible to him and I. “So, you want to apply for a job here?” He said, settling into his chair with a heavy sigh. “Yes Sir” I said trying to sound confident. I remained standing until he gestured impatiently towards an empty chair across from him. “Sit” I sat. He pulled out a clipboard with a blank form on it, clicked his pen twice, and finally looked at me properly. Above his head, text materialized. [NAME: Park Junho] [AGE: 46] [RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Divorced] [OCCUPATION: Convenience Store Manager] [STRENGTHS: Unavailable] [WEAKNESSES: Unava

I closed the remaining distance in two desperate strides. My shoulder slammed into Dong hyun's arm just as the gun went up. “What the …” The shot was deafening in the enclosed space. The bullet blasted through the ceiling. Bits of plaster raining down like snow. Dong hyun staggered, cursing. I didn't waste the opportunity. I yanked his arm up, using every ounce of strength I had. The gun pointed towards the ceiling. The student, frozen in terror, leaned on the wall close to the door and slid down, probably realizing how close he was to death. Dong hyun tried to twist around, but I was already driving forward with my shoulder. My sneaker caught on something, maybe his foot or maybe I just slipped, and I stumbled. My shoulder hit lower than I'd intended, somewhere around his hip. It was ugly and graceless. Nothing like the movies. But it worked. Dong hyun staggered sideways, off balance and we both went down hard. My grip on his wrist held, my fingers digging in with strength

Three days later … Park Junho's apartment was bigger than I'd expected and was comfortable. Clean hardwood floors, plants on the window sill, mismatched furniture that somehow worked together. It was a place that truly felt like home. He'd insisted I stay with him instead of sleeping in a storage room in the store. Given how I could barely walk from the couch to the bathroom without my side screaming in protest, I hadn't argued. “Alright.” Park Junho said, setting three bottles of banana milk on the coffee table and settled into the arm chair across from me. “Let's see it.” I pulled out the business card Kang Sujin had given me and placed it on the table. Woo rim, who’d been in the kitchen making sandwiches, appeared so fast, with a plate in hand, he nearly dropped the sandwiches. He snatched up the business card, eyes going wide. “Star🌟lit Entertainment,” his voice shook. “The Star🌟lit Entertainment. Seonbae, do you know what this is?” “A business card?” I offered. “This

"Stop moving,” the doctor said, holding the small scissors near my abdomen. “I'm not moving.” “You're fidgeting.” I was. My hands tapped my legs nervously and I flinched whenever I felt the scissors touch me. The doctor snipped carefully at the stitches that had been holding my abdomen together for the past few days. Park Junho sat at the corner of the clinic, scrolling through his phone, while Woo rim watched the procedure with disturbing fascination. “Does it hurt?” Woo rim asked. “A little,” I admitted. More like a sharp tugging sensation that made my eye water. “Almost done,” the doctor said. One more snip and then he was dabbing at my stomach with antiseptic. “There. Try not to get stabbed again.” “I’ll do my best.” I looked down at my abdomen and sighed. It would definitely leave a scar, at least it wasn't my face I guess. “You can resume normal physical activity,” the doctor said. “But take it easy for the first few days, no excessive strain.” “Define ex