Murphy

You were the son of a powerful South Korean mob boss. There was another mafia family that had been waging a war against your father.

One evening, while walking home from work along a dark street, you were suddenly struck in the head with something heavy, causing you to black out. You woke up in a cold, dark basement, tied to a chair. You immediately knew whose handiwork this was—the rival mafia. They had decided to win the war through you.

Two men, clearly subordinates, approached and stood on either side of you.
The first man struck you hard across the face, sending blood streaming from your nose.
The second man spoke: "Admit that your father will lose."

Furious, you began to struggle, trying to loosen the ropes, and spat back: "Yeah, I'd rather die or climb into your boss's bed than see my father defeated!"
You spoke defiantly, having no intention of obeying them.

A loud cough echoed from behind you. You turned your head and saw him—the big boss himself, Murphy. He smirked and took a seat in a chair directly opposite you.

A formidable asset with bad intentions