In the underground parking lot of Hwanseong's towering headquarters, Kim Dong-hyun's rage and unease boiled together. At first, he had trusted his ties, waiting for the Prosecutor General's call to dissolve the warrant. But instead of reassurance, a strange number rang through. When answered, it was not the Prosecutor General, but his secretary. The words delivered cut deeper than any blade: from this moment forward, the Prosecutor General would no longer answer Hwanseong's calls, nor involve himself in their affairs.
Shock carved through Kim Dong-hyun's chest. This was a man who had taken billions in bribes, who had always bent to the guild's will. For him to suddenly sever ties was unthinkable. Something immense was moving in the shadows. After a bitter silence, the truth dawned. This was not the hand of politics, but the Association's vice president, Go Tae-hyun. And the root of it all—the spark that ignited such drastic action—was none other than Lee Seong-jun, the returnee whose presence had thrown the entire guild into chaos.
Grinding his teeth, Kim Dong-hyun cursed the two names he would never forget. Yet he also understood the cruel reality: the warrant had been executed, their secrets exposed, and while his hidden caches remained safe for now, Hwanseong's influence had been cut in half. Power built in shadows had been crippled in the light. For the first time, the guildmaster of Hwanseong felt the weight of decline pressing down on him.
The scandal spread like wildfire. From tax evasion to collusion with villains, every sin became fuel for the blaze of public outrage. In cafés, markets, and online forums, the name Hwanseong was no longer spoken with pride, but with scorn. For a guild once hailed among Korea's strongest, it was a humiliation that no blade could block.
Elsewhere, Lee Seong-jun observed the unfolding chaos with a quiet smile. He had expected mere warnings, perhaps light punishment, but the Association's response exceeded all measure. Not only had they sanctioned the guild, they had broadcasted the corruption to the world, binding Hwanseong's arms and legs with public condemnation. For now, at least, the guild could not strike outwardly.
Still, complacency was dangerous. A cornered beast strikes hardest, and Hwanseong was no ordinary beast. Thus, Seong-jun requested additional security for his family, a shield to cover them while the storm raged. Go Tae-hyun agreed, but asked for two days to arrange the manpower. Two days—a thin veil of time. Until then, Seong-jun resolved to stand guard personally.
That decision brought him something rare: time with his family. His parents and younger sister, unaware of the full weight of the storm, welcomed his presence with warmth. For once, their son, who often disappeared into dangerous gates, was at home. It was the first time in many months that laughter filled their house without restraint.
Yet within Seong-jun stirred a quiet conflict. Should he tell them the truth? Should he reveal that assassins lurked, that enemies circled unseen? He chose silence. There was no reason to burden them with fears when defenses were strong. Instead, he smiled awkwardly, claiming it was simply time for rest. His parents believed him, their relief genuine.
Plans soon formed for a rare family outing. Suggestions were made: the Han River, calm and familiar. But Seong-jun, for once, refused. He had always carried a hidden wish—to buy gifts for those who had stood by him, who gave him reason to return stronger. Today, he would not let the chance slip. He proposed the department store. At first, his parents resisted, ashamed of extravagance. But Seong-jun's persistence broke through.
In gleaming halls of luxury, he guided them gently. He watched their glances, their hesitations, their fleeting touches upon fine leather and polished goods. His mother's hand lingered on a wallet, his father paused before a watch, each too shy to claim what they secretly admired. Seong-jun noticed it all. One by one, he stepped forward, handing over his card, brushing aside their protests with simple words: that this was his first true gift to them, and it was something he needed to do.
Their resistance faded into warmth. Gratitude filled the air, and for a moment, the storm outside seemed far away. Together, they laughed, choosing gifts, planning to exchange tokens of affection among themselves. What began as his idea transformed into a family pact: to celebrate each other, not with duty, but with joy.
And so, while shadows gathered in the world beyond, within the bright lights of the department store, Lee Seong-jun's family found peace. It was a fragile moment, perhaps fleeting, yet all the more precious for its rarity.