Comhroinn Fuaime

Min-ho had paid a hospital janitor three hundred thousand won and walked in through a service entrance with a visitor lanyard around his neck, already rehearsing the version of this conversation where he still had leverage. He had convinced himself, in the particular way of men who have never truly faced consequences, that Hannah was still someone who could be managed. That if he could just get to her alone, speak first, frame the narrative— He opened the door to a room full of light and sixteen