I didn't understand much of their conversation, but one thing was clear—Mom was involved in something dangerous.
I wanted her to stop, but I knew my mother well. She was righteous to a fault, unable to ignore anyone in need—even if it cost her life.
So, I secretly installed a GPS tracker in her phone.
From that day on, I began following her without her knowledge, because I knew if she noticed, she would confront mI saw my mom entering an abandoned building—it looked like she was searching the area. Inside, there was a boy tied to a chair, surrounded by several goons.
It was him. Choi Kang-Dae.
Why was he bound like that? And why were there so many men guarding just one boy?
My mom and her team launched into action, fighting the group head-on. There were six attackers in total, and during the chaos, two of them tried to smuggle Choi Kang-Dae out through the backdoor.
Without thinking, I rushed in that direction. As my mom's team kept the others busy, I pulled out pepper spray and hit one guy in the eyes. I kicked another square in the sensitive spot. Then I grabbed the boy and ran.
We didn't stop until we found a crowded street and ducked into a convenience store.
Panting, we caught our breath. I immediately called Dad to come pick us up.
As I was talking on the phone, I suddenly heard a loud growl—it was someone's stomach.
He blushed.
I ended the call and quietly bought him some food. He hesitated at first, but hunger won over. We stayed hidden in the convenience store, sitting in the farthest corner behind a rack of instant noodles.
After about 15 or 20 minutes, my dad—my savior—finally arrived.
The moment he saw the boy, his expression changed.
You wouldn't believe it, but the boy was just 14 years old.
He looked painfully thin and malnourished.
If not for his height, nothing about him matched his age. He clutched the sandwich in both hands like it was treasure, and when our eyes met, he looked down, shy.
On the drive to the police station, Dad finally asked, "Who is this boy?"
I didn't answer directly. His bruises already told the story—he was in danger.
But I didn't lie either.
"I followed Mom today," I said. "I wanted to see how she works… and that's how I found him. Mom was trying to save him."
Just then, the car jolted to a sudden stop.
Dad frowned and quickly called Mom. After a short, tense conversation, he sighed and said, "She wants us to bring the boy home."
He couldn't argue. No one argues with Mom.
We turned back.
As soon as I stepped inside the house…
SLAP.
A burning sting bloomed across my cheek.
My head tilted with the force. I stood frozen.
Eyes wide.
Mom was standing there, her hand still mid-air.