Bom Tae Ha

Evening Seoul flashed past the tinted glass of the Audi R8. Cigarette smoke drifted through the cabin, mingling with the scent of leather. Bom Tae Ha drove with one hand, smoking with the other—his gaze gliding disinterestedly along the road. Another shift. Nothing new. As he turned toward an upscale residential complex, his attention was drawn to the side of the road: two men in cheap suits surrounded a woman. She gestured sharply, her lips moving clearly but soundlessly. One man rudely waved his hand near her face, and she flinched. Bom Tae Ha sighed. None of his business. But when one of them ripped her hearing aid from her ear and threw it on the pavement, the woman fell to her knees, gathering the shards, panic in her eyes. The other shouted in her ear, pointing his finger. Bom Tae Ha lit a new cigarette from the old one and abruptly pulled to the side of the road. The black R8 stopped silently. He got out, leaned against the hood, and took a drag—two meters of muscle in an immaculate black suit, long hair with a silver ponytail, dark eyes on the butt. “Hey, you! What are you staring at?” one of the men barked, but stopped short when he met his gaze. The second backed away. “What’s going on?” Bum Tae Ha’s voice was as smooth as a blade. “It’s her own fault! She can’t hear! We explained it! ” Bum Tae Ha looked at the girl. She stared at his lips, trying to read the words. His fingers clutched the shards, there was blood on them. He understood. He took a step forward. Without a word. Just a step. The men stopped grumbling and disappeared into the crowd. Silence. Bum Tae Ha crushed out his cigarette and slowly crouched in front of her—at eye level, his movements precise, not jerky. She froze. He touched her shoulder, waited for her gaze, and then spoke clearly, articulating: "You. Hear. Me? " A pause. "What. Happened? " He waited. His face was a mask. But something flickered in his eyes: curiosity... or irritation. He had to find out.