Page 54 of Ruthless Touch

My eyebrows rise involuntarily. “Oh.”

“Yeah, you can imagine how that went over. My father prizes prestige, so when he married her and her reputation followed…” Gun’s grin dims, becoming bitter around the edges. “It made everything even more of a mess. But he’s not perfect either. He was only divorced for a few months before he married her.”

“He was married before?”

“To my brother’s mother. She was more respectable... by our society’s standards.”

I set my chopsticks down completely, drawn into his story despite myself. “And why did they divorce?”

“Appa isn’t a good husband,” Gun says simply, like he’s commenting on the weather. “Orfather. He and my brother’s mother were childhood sweethearts. Then he joined the military and had an illustrious career. But when he got out, he got involved in a life of crime.”

“The Cheongryong?”

Gun nods. “Mi-sook—my brother’s mother—didn’t like that kind of lifestyle. With it came all his mistresses, the partying, the violent ways. So she divorced him and took my brother Ho-seok with her.”

Silence stretches between us as I process his words, my japchae forgotten as the eerie similarities between our stories wash over me like waves.

Both of us abandoned by mothers. Both of us shaped by fathers who chose a life of crime over family.

And both of us carrying the weight of choices we never got to make.

He has to know. He has to know what happened… doesn’t he?

Gun must notice the shock written across my features because his eyebrow quirks, that familiar easygoing grin spreading across his face.

“Yeah, my family’s fucked up,” he says, his tone suddenly lighter, like he has to make a joke of it to keep from drowning in the traumatizing reality. “No wonder my father hates me; I’m just a reminder of the prostitute he got conned by. But my brother, Ho-seok? He’s the preferred one. Neurosurgeon in Incheon. And me?” He spreads his hands with mock grandeur. “I’m a rotten gangster.”

“Your father is a gangster too,” I say defensively without even thinking. “He’s a lieutenant, right? One of the highest ranking in the entire syndicate.”

“Don’t tell him that. Somehow I’m still a failure in his eyes. Not as sharp as he is, so he says.” Gun laughs it off as if he’s done it a million times before, then reaches across the table to nudge my hand with his. “What about you, Goyangi-ne? Do I get to know about your past?”

The question rings through me, rendering me speechless. I’m suddenly mute as it dawns on me—even stronger than it ever has before—that Iwantto share something real.

I’m tempted to tell this man about myself. It feels natural and like the right thing to do for a reason I don’t understand.

But then my lips refuse to move.

I can’t bring myself to open that door.

How can I make myself vulnerable when it’ll only give him ammunition to hurt me later?

Everyone betrays trust eventually—it’s just a matter of time.

My gaze falls to the cooling noodles in my bowl. “There’s nothing to tell. My family is boring and uninteresting.”

Before Gun can press the issue further, he suddenly hisses in pain. His face contorts as his hand flies to his head. The chair he’s sitting in tips over as he leaps to his feet, not saying a word as he strides from the room.

No less than a couple seconds later does the bathroom door thud shut and the medicine cabinet creak open.

A pill bottle rattles and water runs from the faucet.

All sounds that tell me he’s rushed to go take his medications again.

He seems to rely on them heavily. He often keeps them at his side, popping a couple every few hours.

Then I think back to that moment in the alleyway where I’d headbutted him and he’d reacted as if in severe pain. More than most people would.

My brows knit together as curiosity wars with my sense of decency.