Juwon's body ached with a deep, telling throb, a constant reminder of the previous night with Taemin. He moved carefully down the opulent hallway of the Park residence, his gait a subtle, stiff-legged limp he tried desperately to mask. He held his posture rigid, his face a neutral mask, refusing to let any of the passing staff see his discomfort.
He stopped before the heavy, dark wood door of his father's study. Taking a steadying breath, he knocked softly.
"Enter." The voice from within was not an invitation. It was a command, cold and flat.
Juwon pushed the door open. The study was all dark wood and leather, smelling of old books and expensive cigars. His father, Mr. Park, was not seated behind his monumental desk. He was standing before the fireplace, his back to the door, his posture radiating a tension that made the air in the room feel thick and suffocating.
"You wanted to see me, Father?" Juwon's voice was smaller than he intended, barely more than a respectful murmur.
