In a blind fit of rage, Jiho's father grabbed the kettle from the table and hurled it toward her with all the force he could muster. But Jiho barely flinched. With a swift turn of her head, she avoided the flying kettle, which shattered loudly against the ground behind her.
The air seemed to still for a moment as Jiho slowly turned her cold gaze back to her father, her eyes glinting with an almost predatory gleam. "Listen carefully, Mr. Lee," she said, her voice icy, each word precise and calculated. "If you don't want to spend the rest of your life rotting in a prison cell, I suggest you don't try something like that again."
Her father's face turned ashen, realizing the threat wasn't an empty one. He stood frozen in place, his chest heaving, but he didn't dare move.
