Episode 3

The first rays of dawn had barely pierced the horizon when Jungwoo awoke, drenched in sweat and exhaustion from a restless night of worry. His small apartment, dimly lit and sparsely furnished, smelled faintly of wet wood and stale coffee. In one corner sat a stack of envelopes, reminders of the debt that had cost him everything—most importantly, his son, Tae.

Jungwoo clenched his fists. Today, he promised himself, he would do everything possible to earn the money. No shortcuts. No excuses. Tae’s tiny life depended on it.

First Job: Small Mafia Work

By sunrise, he had already dressed in a plain suit, his face drawn and pale. He walked through the bustling streets, blending with the crowd, careful not to draw attention. His first task was the simplest yet most humiliating—collecting debts for a small gang under Namjoon’s empire.

“Boss, you’re new,” a lanky man had said, smirking. “Hope you don’t get scared when someone refuses to pay.”

Jungwoo’s jaw tightened. He had stared death in the face before—not like this, not for money he owed—but today, he had no choice. He moved with quiet determination, knocking on doors, confronting frightened shopkeepers, and pocketing small amounts of cash. By the time the sun had fully risen, he had earned a few thousand won—but it was only the beginning.

Second Job: Underground Fighting

Before breakfast, he found himself in a dark warehouse at the edge of the city, entering the underground fight club. The stench of sweat, blood, and cigarette smoke hit him instantly. Fighters lined up, muscles glistening under dim lights, eyes full of menace.

He had no experience, no skill. Only desperation.

The bell rang, and he stepped into the ring. Men twice his size charged him, throwing fists and elbows with brutal precision. Jungwoo dodged, blocked, and countered as best he could, fueled entirely by thoughts of Tae. Every punch he absorbed, every bruise that blossomed on his skin, was a payment toward his son.

By the end of the morning, he staggered from the ring, bloody, bruised, but clutching his earnings—a small fortune from the bets placed on him.

Third Job: Gambling

Bloodied hands trembling, Jungwoo made his way to a neon-lit gambling hall. The clatter of chips and laughter greeted him like a challenge. He thought, maybe here, he could multiply his earnings fast.

He gambled with care, trying to remember the few lessons he had learned from whispered advice. For a moment, it seemed like luck had chosen him. He won a few hands, his heart lifting. But the wheel of fortune was cruel; it turned, swallowed his money, and left him empty-handed.

He fell to his knees, staring at the chips that had meant so much, feeling the crushing weight of helplessness. “Tae… I’m coming… I promise,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion.

Fourth Job: Selling His Belongings

With gambling a failure, Jungwoo returned home briefly, soaked and exhausted, and began gathering his most precious possessions. His wedding ring, a photo locket of his late wife, and the baby blanket he had embroidered himself—all pawned one by one. Each sale cut into his heart, but each coin earned was a step closer to Tae.

By mid-afternoon, he had earned a substantial sum, but his body screamed in protest. His legs ached, his back burned, and his hands shook. Still, he refused to rest. Tae’s life demanded more.

Fifth Job: The Dangerous Deal

Night fell, and Jungwoo faced his final, most dangerous task: infiltrate a rival mafia warehouse and steal a package. Failure meant death. Success meant the money he needed.

He moved like a shadow through the rain-slicked streets, heart pounding, muscles tense. Guards patrolled the entrance, unaware of the man determined to save his son. Jungwoo ducked, ran, and slipped inside the warehouse. Every second felt like eternity.

The package was heavy, but he managed to secure it. Running through the alleyways, dodging searchlights and guards, he finally emerged into the open, heart hammering. The money he had risked his life to obtain now burned in his pocket—a tangible connection to Tae, a promise of reunion.

Namjoon and Baby Tae

Meanwhile, back in the mansion, Namjoon sat in the grand nursery, cradling Tae in his arms. The tiny hands grasped his finger, and the baby cooed softly. Namjoon had cleaned him, fed him, and even changed his diaper again, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“This one,” Namjoon whispered, watching Tae’s chest rise and fall, “he’s… stubborn, yes, but maybe he’s worth it.”

He adjusted the blanket around Tae, careful not to wake him fully. Despite his cold reputation, the man felt a warmth he hadn’t experienced in years—an uncomfortable, but undeniable bond.

Namjoon’s mind remained sharp, however. The streets were dangerous, and debts could have consequences. But as he looked down at Tae, sleeping peacefully in his arms, he allowed himself a fleeting thought: what if someone came for him?

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