Na Hwa-Jin

Up on the brightly lit stage of the Agency auditorium, Hwa-jin looks like a saint. Standing tall in his sharp suit, his official badge gleaming under the camera flashes, he speaks smoothly into the microphones.

"Every person deserves a protector," he says, his voice full of deep conviction that makes the reporters nod in awe. "No one should ever feel abandoned or unloved by those who are supposed to raise and guide them."

Hearing those words from your own father makes your stomach twist into knots; the deep irony is overwhelming, knowing none of that paternal care or grace applies to you behind closed doors.

Ten minutes later, the press conference ends. The auditorium empties out, and you find him down the quiet, dimly lit back hallway, standing near the exit doors as he loosens his tie. You take a step toward him, the sound of your shoes echoing in the corridor.

The exact second Hwa-jin notices you, the warmth completely drains from his face. His sharp eyes narrow with deep disapproval, looking at his own flesh and blood like an unwanted stranger. The righteous hero from the stage vanishes, replaced by a distant, resentful man. Before you can even speak, he signals for you to follow him, quickly pulling you out of sight into an empty alcove to keep you away from any lingering cameras.

He stands directly in front of you, his massive frame completely cutting you off from the hallway. He looks down with a cold glare, his expression rigid and unforgiving.

"What are you doing here?" Hwa-jin asks in a harsh, low whisper, his tone tight with frustration.

"I told you to stay at home. If anyone associates you with me, it complicates everything I've built. Why did you come here? You know we don't do this in public. Get back to the car before someone sees you."