𝚅𝙴𝙽𝙶𝙴𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴
noun- 𝑝𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑖𝑛𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑏𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑒𝑥𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛 𝑖𝑛𝑗𝑢𝑟𝑦 𝑜𝑟 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔.
what if one day all the truths you have known become lies, what if one day you need to lose someone...
In the labyrinth of the night, I treaded through the shadows toward my office, my mother's grave left behind in the cemetery. There's a certain solace in visiting her resting place during the silent hours, a ritual cloaked in darkness, guarding a secret I've sworn to keep veiled. The truth about her, like a phantom, lingered in the obscurity of those early morning moments.
As the sun reluctantly peeked over the horizon, signaling the beginning of a new day, I couldn't help but feel like the protagonist in a poorly written spy novel. My life, a clandestine opera of challenges and duties, unfolded with each sunrise, like a never-ending episode of a mediocre soap opera.
Picture this: me, the unsuspecting hero of my chaotic drama, navigating a world that seemed to have forgotten the script. My existence, a volatile concoction of unpredictability and enigma, left bystanders scratching their heads in confusion. If only they knew the half of it. In the midst of the madness, there I was, finding joy in the strangest places. Why not revel in the chaos when faced with the monotony of a life less extraordinary? It's like finding joy in a malfunctioning GPS - sure, it takes you on a wild ride, but at least you'll have a good story to tell.
So, there I was, embracing the unpredictability of my life like a poorly trained circus performer on a unicycle. No one could fathom the intricacies of my daily escapades, but who needs understanding when you've got a front-row seat to the circus of your own existence?
Imagine the horror of living a day that resembled the one before, and the one before that, and infinitum. God save me from such banality; I'd rather face the unpredictability of my life with a raised eyebrow and a sarcastic quip. After all, who needs a routine when you can have a rollercoaster ride through the absurdity of reality?
In the midst of the quietude, Yoongi's message sliced through the air, a stark reminder of the impending deal with the Thai drug dealer. My fingers hovered over the phone, ready to craft a response when the tranquillity was shattered by a violent collision - the symphony of chaos orchestrated by none other than me, Kim Namjoon.
The audacity of the person who dared to cross paths with my sleek black car left me momentarily stunned. A petite figure, seemingly fragile, collided with my world of controlled disorder. Yet, her stature belied her capabilities. As my men closed into her, she metamorphosed into a skilled fighter, surprising us all with a strength that defied her diminutive size.
As theskirmish unfolded, two more figures materialized - allies of the nimblecombatant. Their coordinated movements hinted at a shared history ofconfrontations, a familiarity that put my trained men at a disadvantage.Frustration clawed at me, the unexpected resistance churning my blood. It was astruggle that demanded resolution, and in that volatile moment, the cold metalof my gun became an enticing option against these seemingly insurmountableadversaries.
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Stepping out of the car, my eyes fell upon her, the instigator of this unforeseen chaos. Those captivating chocolate-colored eyes held a mesmerizing allure, complemented by wavy brown hair, a pointy nose, and porcelain skin. I was so captivated by her presence that I failed to notice her escape.
