Chapter Text
Charles Park fixed the collar of his overcoat one more time, making sure it lay flat on his crisp gray suit before grabbing his briefcase from the backseat of his rented BMW.
Squinting against the early morning sun, he fed the meter with enough quarters to buy the hour.
The apartment building in front of him was a two-storey, four-unit complex, typical of the area. Everything from the beige exterior to the gray roof tiling was unremarkable and forgettable. It was the perfect home for someone trying to lay low.
He walked past the two white cars parked on one of the driveways to make his way to the door. He pressed the bell, hearing the chime echo inside.
The door opened after a minute.
“Hi!” Stark blue eyes and a whirl of dark hair filled his vision. “Can I help you?”
Charles offered a polite smile. “Yes, good morning. I’m here to see David Kim. Is he available? This apartment is listed as his registered address.”
“And who might you be?” The young man’s brows tightened, his tone sharper this time.
“Where are my manners?” Charles said, pulling out his business card holder from his pocket and plucking one out. “My name is Charles Park. I’m an attorney based in New York. It’s important that I speak with Mr Kim directly about a private matter.”
The young man’s demeanor shifted slightly. Accepting the business card, he clicked the door shut.
Over the years, Charles had learned to be adaptable. The traveling, the waiting, the occasional knife point to his throat - they’re all part of the job. A delicate balance between professional bravado and knowing your place in the world.
The door opened once again.
“Mr Park? I’m David Kim.”
As Charles shook his hand, he couldn't help but notice how striking David Kim was. Tall, simply-dressed in a white shirt and blue trousers, with the kind of quiet confidence that was clearly earned.
But it was his eyes that held Charles’ attention. An arresting shade of purple, they glimmered with an intensity, as though they held secrets he wasn’t ready to share.
“Charles, please,” he replied, cordially. “I was hoping we could discuss the details inside.”
He looked over David’s shoulder to see a pair of glowering blue eyes, adding: “Privately, if possible. It’s a sensitive matter.”
⁂
The apartment was a comfortable size for a one-bedroom. A charcoal couch hugged one wall, across from a modest TV perched on a narrow stand. A kitchenette was tucked to one corner, a half-finished pot of coffee sat on the counter.
Through an open doorway, the bedroom was visible. Simple, with a neatly-made bed and a pair of nightstands on either side.
It wasn’t a fancy home, but it felt comfortable. Lived in.
Charles settled himself at the small round dining table as he watched David usher the young man out the door.
“Go, I’ll be fine,” David said. “You’ll be late for class if you don’t leave now.”
If the young man’s grip on the door frame was any harder, it would break. “Are you sure? I don’t have to go. They never take attendance at lectures anyway. Don’t you think it’s better if I–”
“Jo, I’m sure.” David smiled, carefully measured, more about reassurance than sincerity. “Drive safe.”
Deflated, the young man sent Charles a sidelong glance before planting a quick peck on David’s cheek.
“Text me after, okay?”
“I will.”
By the time David joined Charles at the dining table, the smile had vanished from his face, as if it had never been there at all.
“Sorry about that. Jo can be… overprotective, sometimes.”
“Not at all. Given the circumstances, it is completely understandable.”
“So you said you’re an attorney? Whose?”
“I represent the estate of Taejoon Oh.” Charles paused, watching the man’s expression change — confusion at first, then realization. “He’d made arrangements in advance, and part of that was ensuring that you’re taken care of. I’ve been tasked with handling the legal process.”
David’s face was caught somewhere between disbelief and grief. “What? What do you mean?”
Charles had seen this look many times before. He kept his tone gentle. “Mr Oh passed away recently. He left some assets under your name — your real name that is, Mr Shin — and I’m here with the paperwork to facilitate the transfer.”
Seconds passed. A minute. Two. The silence became thick, enough to choke on.
“What happened?” It was a whisper, almost as if speaking louder would break something inside him.
Charles was used to this question, but there was something deeper in Ian’s voice. It wasn’t just anguish — it was pain, it was regret, it was unresolved feelings wrapped into two fragile words.
“Two weeks ago, at the coalition executive meeting,” Charles said. “He was ambushed at the afterparty by some flunky. I’m not privy to exactly what went down that night, gang business and all, but I’m told the… perpetrators have been dealt with.”
A flash of fury ignited Ian’s eyes, raw and immediate. “Dealt with? How was it dealt with? And why am I only hearing about it now?”
The anger flared so quickly, so sharply, that it caught Charles off guard — he hadn’t expected the grief to shift so violently into rage.
“All I can say, Mr Shin, is that Chiwoon made sure the henchman who initially stabbed Mr Oh had a long time to reflect on what he’d done.” Charles cleared his throat. “However, the other person is, shall we say, untouchable. She’s been sent away, out of the States, as far as I know.”
Charles paused, gauging Ian’s reaction before continuing. “And with all due respect, you’ve not been a part of the organization for a long time, nor were you eager to be found.”
Ian froze. Charles could tell he was gathering the strength to ask the next question. He waited patiently.
“When is the funeral?”
Charles had practiced his response already, but it didn’t feel good saying it. “Considering the circumstances, there was no funeral. It was the leadership’s consensus to keep it as discreet and quiet as possible. They did hold a small service, private, just the crew.”
A flicker of shock crossed Ian’s face, as if someone had slapped him.
“I shouldn’t have left.” Ian let out a watery laugh that sounded like the whimper of a wounded animal. The knuckles on his clenched fists turned white. “I shouldn’t have fucking left.”
"I understand this must be a shock, and I’m very sorry for your loss,” Charles said. “But the instructions were very clear — Mr Oh put a lot of thought into the arrangements. May we continue?”
Ian nodded emptily after a while, though his eyes were glazed over.
Charles reached into his briefcase and pulled out a few sheets of documents and three thick envelopes. The envelopes were plain white, each with an address written in black capital letters. They hit the table in soft, metallic thunks.
“I understand this must be a lot to take in and we can go over the specifics of the estate later when you’re ready. But there are a few things you need to sign for now.”
Ian’s gaze did not follow.
Charles soldiered on. “On top of financial assets, Mr Oh left you several properties. These are the keys: this is the penthouse in the Upper West Side, this here is the brownstone on West 70th just half a block from Central Park. This one, however…”
At this, Charles couldn’t help but notice Ian’s eyes lingered on the last envelope, as if it held far more than just metal and plastic.
“It’s a tiny apartment in Lower Manhattan, a few blocks from Chinatown,” Charles continued. “The building is old and falling apart so it’s probably not worth a lot compared to the other two. But it’s been left to you, as well.”
Something shifted — that last piece of information seemed to have cracked a brittle barrier. Ian’s face crumpled behind his hands, broad shoulders visibly shaking as tears spilled down his cheeks. For a man who had held it together so well thus far, this sudden unraveling took Charles aback.
Ian knew where the address led, and there was no mistaking the significance of this place.
After a while, Ian steadied his breathing. He reached out slowly, the paper turning translucent where his fingertips pressed. He didn’t open the envelope, just held it, as if the weight of it could give him some kind of solace.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” Ian murmured, more to himself than to Charles.
“There’s no rush, Mr Shin. I’ll help you navigate the legal side. The rest, you can take your time with it. Again, I’m very sorry for your loss.”
⁂
Charles lit a cigarette after returning to his rental car, perching his now-lighter briefcase on the hood.
He had walked this path many times before, delivering life-shattering news, in every sense of the words. It came with the job, and he’d long mastered the art of keeping it professional while the world fell apart for someone else.
Even then, watching someone come apart at the seams, eyes brimming with heartbreak as his last defenses crumbled…
This wasn’t just about money or property—there was clearly unfinished business between the two men, and now Ian Shin was the sole heir to it all.