"We're here" a soothing voice woke up Kyle from his short but deep slumber. Though it was a quick nap, it made him feel recharged. It might have been something that Kyle really needed after a very eventful day. Squinting his eyes and arching his back, Kyle is confused about where he is here. He looked around, and it took him just ten seconds to realize that he was at his parent's house. Alarmed, annoyed, and felt betrayed. Kyle threw the first thing his hands could grab to Steven while whispering in a stern tone. "Are you crazy?! Why did you bring me here?" "The Boss wants to see you." It is hard to read Steven's poker face, and so Kyle just let him go with that as he knows, just like him, they are just mere pawn who surrenders to their master's moves and techniques. They are controlled and not allowed to have a mind of their own. A line of men in suits standing on the sides of a red carpet greeted Kyle. After several years of keeping his distance, the unison greeting of " Good Evening Master Kyle!" startled him as he is not used to it now. As he entered the house entrance full of rare painting collections and antiques, memories of not so pleasant things also reminded him. A memory of a boy standing outside while getting soaked in the rain. He is clenching a soaking letter in his hands while crying. The letter is an acceptance letter to a prestigious art university inside the Ivy League. A University that you can only attend on invite after passing a rigorous selections process. For once in his young life then, he wanted something so much, for once he made a decision on his own and after receiving the letter, the word happy is not enough to describe his overflowing feelings on that day. And so, just like other kids, he presented his letter to his parents; he didn't expect much. He just wanted to inform them, and maybe get a glimpse of support or anything of that sort would have been exhilarating for him. "MUSIC?! Who told you you can make MUSIC?! " an angry voice of a strong man resonated the glass walls of the dining hall, followed by flying silverware and a whole menu of expensive dishes served in Kyle's face. "What a lame course, you didn't even ask us," said in a half disappointed tone; the other half of the manner will give you a hint of indifference while focusing on her iPad showing an app and a whole bunch of things that are to checkout. This is not the image Kyle formed inside his head; of course, he did not request much, but at least a sutle yes would do, but he guesses even that is too much to ask for him. "B-bu-but I really want to become a musician. My teacher told me...." "I will not hear any more of this sh*t! You will fly first thing after graduation. It is all arranged," "But father, I really worked hard on this and ..." He tries to defend the dream he once had. But just as David is facing Goliath, without any help, it is impossible to win. "Work? Who told you to work on anything! You are not even allowed to think on your own! I feed you, clothed you. Do you think anything is free?! You are my investment! "An investment?" Kyle's head tilted by the sound. He is not sure if he heard or even understood correctly. The term is hard to digest, even for a bright eighteen-year-old boy. Thrown outside. Thunder. Lightning. Harsh wind. Cold night. A loud voice that could shatter even the strongest hearts and minds echoed amid the angry rain and strong wind. "Stay there until you learn your lesson!" It is a grim night. It is a memorable night of lessons, realizations, and boundaries, things that Kyle learned at an early age, most brutally in the middle of a storm, kneeling in front of the majestic house, clenching his dreams, that just like him, soaked, miserable and pathetic. "You're here," a hoarse voice of a man laying on his expensive hospital bed, sustained by oxygen tanks, far from the firm, high and mighty god that he was once. "Yes, 아버지 (abeoji: father)." Even though his whole being shivers with anger, in his eyes, you can see a son who still cares deeply for his father. The sickly man who tries his best to at least sit on the hospital bed was lying. Kyle assisted this aged man with thinning grey hair. "How are you these days?" Kyle is taken aback. This is a usual conversation between a father and son; however, it is not common in his family. He does not know what to expect next. He felt as if he was suddenly on a landmine- one wrong move, and his head would blow! Kyle's mind searched for the right words to say, and when he finally constructed a proper answer for him, he failed to say it as another attack was given and caught him off-guard it is set of pictures being handed to him. "It seems you are having a blast," Kyle's nerves are shaking. He is confused. He wonders where and how were these pictures taken. It is a picture of him and James drinking in the parking lot. There are a total of five pictures. It is like a photo essay shows the whole story of that night. The last picture is what he is the most concerned with- the face that should have been hidden is there- Kyle is afraid that his father might recognize her and the part she plays in a series of unfortunate events that happened in the past. "I've told you before. You cannot be seen in this state! We built our names at the backbone of blood and sweat- you are not to ruin it by these stupid petty actions." Deafening silence. Kyle's brain is lagging. He does not know what to say. He needs to pick his words else or, adequately, the name he dreaded to hear from his father's mouth might be brought out, and once it is out, there is no way to erase it again without erasing the name owner. A Severe unceasing cough. Splatters of blood on the tissue. Machines that supplement a man's life start to shout, an alert was sent and alarmed doctors, nurses, and men in black- it is a commotion. Kyle stands on the side. He looks at the man who has been his master for as long as he can remember. A man who menaces his years, but still he owes his life with. The happy memories might be scarce, but still, they should not be forgotten. Kyle is torn. Would it be better that he die? Should I just stand here? These are his thoughts. But amidst the chaos. The heart of a good son prevailed. Kyle jumped on the hospital bed. Kyle's face is serious. His arms and head are full of sweat. He gave his all. He tried his best. And at the end...