Warning: ⚠️ This chapter contains explicit sexual content, nudity, and adult themes involving sexual activity. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
Joon Ho placed a single white chrysanthemum on each grave. The wind whispered through the bare branches of the trees overhead. He closed his eyes, his hands clasped before him, not in a gesture of rigid prayer, but in one of deep, personal gratitude.
"Thank you for everything," he murmured, his voice low and steady, carrying a weight of decades. "Father. Mother." The titles, once spoken with a mix of fear and respect, were now filled only with a profound, aching loss. He had learned too late the lessons they had tried to teach him about what truly mattered.
After a long moment of silence, he turned and walked away from the plots. At the edge of the cemetery, a small group of men in dark suits stood waiting—the remaining captains of his father's old organization. They bowed deeply as he approached.
