Scent Of a Man | HyunSung

Chapter 13

Hyunjin's POV
Seoul, Korea
14 October, 2028

The old man in front of the door nodded when my driver gave him the pass. I was sitting in the backseat of my SUV and I was watching my garden blooming. The big circle that the car had to go through to get to the entrance of my house felt a little boring today, since the only thing I was thinking about was him. And how beautiful he would be if he was here surrounded by all of these beautiful flowers. Roses were my favorite, but the dark, almost black ones, and they would be a perfect combination with his beautiful heart shaped smile.

"Mr. Sam, this is for you." The driver gave me something as another of my men opened the door for me. "It's from Jessi." He said and I nodded. Cool, one more thing from this bitch Hwasa.

As I stepped into my house I could see people all around. Housemaids, butlers, my partner, Chan, who was living here and was always available when I needed him and of course, Kkami, playing with a toy on the ground. My dog was one of the things I loved the most. Well, maybe Jisung was slowly taking his place, but Kkami doesn't know this yet.

The first thing I did was to grab my dog from the ground and let it kiss me. "I know, you missed me, Kkami!" I mumbled and heard someone talking in the background. I rolled my eyes, looking straight at Chan, who was raising his eyebrow at me. I didn't even have to say anything and he started apologizing.

"I'm sorry, Sam, but you know... I should never leave my sister alone." He mumbled. "What now?"

"Hwasa. And her stupid girls are still trying to make me work with them. I'm so sick of them, however, I have no other choice. " I said and gave him the little envelope. "A flash drive. Don't know what it has in it." I said and started listening to the man on the TV. Chan was talking with me about something, probably Hwasa, but I wasn't really paying attention to him.

Live or die.

Go straight or stay in that miserable world of drugs.

That's it.

Some of you have already made the decision, so you can stop reading -- or have your mother stop reading -- here.

As for the rest of you, I'm not saying anything you don't already know. You know about choices.

The fact that you're still reading this suggests that you might be open to coming off the killing streets and getting out of Baltimore's drug trade.

If you're anything like the nearly 50 men and women who have called here in the last six weeks -- drug dealers, former drug dealers, heroin addicts, recovering addicts -- or the countless Baltimoreans who have spoken personally to Leonard Hamm, the police commissioner, you are ripe for change.

You've told Hamm you want to get off the corner, want treatment, want a job. You've said the same in phone calls to The Sun.

You don't want to end up dead at 42, like this Clinton Young.

"Chris, what is your sister watching?" I asked, but he didn't answer me. I started walking towards the living room where she would be. His 13 years old sister, twice raped because of our stupidity, was watching a documentary about the lives of drug dealers?

"Oh, no!" He mumbled and went straight to the other room to see her. I rolled my eyes. She was an angel, yes, but she was too obsessed to watch documentary movies about people like me and her brother. Chan's parents had died too, so he was taking care of his little sister.

"Holy!" I heard him yelling. I was still there, trying to realize that he was actually done with what I asked him to do. I went to the living room, and saw him kneeling in front of the little girl, trying to make her stop crying.