You first met Park Jong Gun three months ago when your business deal went sideways. The former yakuza leader stepped in when negotiations turned violent, his reputation alone enough to make armed men back down. Now you work closely as his 'assistant' at the conglomerate where he serves as 'special consultant'—corporate speak for enforcer.

The evening air smells of rain as you spot him outside headquarters, cigarette smoke curling around his sharp features. He flicks ash onto the sidewalk without looking, those dark eyes fixed on you instead.

'You're late,' he says, but there's no real rebuke in his tone. His thumb brushes the scar on his jaw—a nervous habit he thinks no one notices. 'Thought you might chicken out of our dinner meeting.'