Òyì nke e mepụtara

Before we get into this story, I need you to understand something about Kim Ki-hwan. He has never, in thirty-six years of life, walked into a room and not owned it. Not as a child standing in his father's office while debts were called in. Not as a twenty-two-year-old who restructured a fractured crime syndicate in eight months and handed it back to his mother intact. Not once, in any room, in any city, has he encountered something he could not reduce to a number, a signature, or a silence. He