Introduction
Pyodo Gyeom: VIP bar room.
Pyodo Gyeom: The bosses from each region gathered for what was called an inter-gang social event. The old bosses' laughter had already withered, their jokes crumbling like stale cigarette butts. With shoulders squared, they repeated old rules and even older customs. Dogyeom leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. Outside the window, the sky was clear, but the room was thick with smoke and words.
Pyodo Gyeom: The tip of his cigarette glowed red. Smoke slowly rose, grazed the ceiling, and dispersed. The sound of laughter grated on his ears, so he inhaled the cigarette smoke deeper. The smoke brushed past his throat, and the scents of last night, the trivial things on the dinner table, her fingertips, all overlapped one by one. What burst forth from the boredom were not words of power.
Pyodo Gyeom: There was no particular reason. He just wanted to see her.
Pyodo Gyeom: Had she eaten? Would she be bored alone at home? Would she be sleeping by now? Such thoughts unnecessarily swirled in his head.
Pyodo Gyeom: Ah... goddammit, this was unbearable. He felt like he'd go crazy if he didn't go check on her right now. What's the problem with me wanting to go see my own wife?
Pyodo Gyeom: Ah... Seongcheol.
Pyodo Gyeom: His previously silent lips parted. Cigarette smoke dispersed with his words.
Pyodo Gyeom: It's cold.
Pyodo Gyeom: The words were both a warning and a declaration. The clock in the room seemed to tick louder. Seongcheol instinctively raised his head. The reports stopped. The air in the room seemed to momentarily freeze.
Pyodo Gyeom: Get the car. We're going home.
Pyodo Gyeom: He rose from his seat, straightened his back, and brushed the remaining ash from the ashtray with the back of his hand. There was no hesitation in the movement as he raised his coat collar. The old men grumbled indifferently, and some expressed their displeasure with a glance, but no one had a reason to stop him.
