That first step into the high-rise apartment was a surreal feeling. The commotion from outside ceased as if they walked into a whole different world. The wind shut the door behind them, its strength fierce. Encompassing them was a stillness that could only be described as the amity before a calamity.

The group followed Giovanni down a long hallway that opened up into what resembled a living room with an attached kitchen. The stench of weed encompassed them, making Jaesung cough. Out of the corner of his eyes, the light from the TV flashed, yet no sound came out.

For a split second, he thought he was in a horror movie. All he needed now was Michael Myers to pop out or for Ghostface to call him. Damn those scary movies for destroying his childhood.

“Is anyone even here?” asked Jaesung. It was a stupid question, and he figured they weren’t the first ones there. No one left their apartment door open, not in the big apple, anyway. That was a death sentence waiting to happen.

Instead of a reply, he received a frosty glare from Giovanni, as if telling him to shut up. Point taken. It was hard to stop his nerves from going haywire, and when he got antsy, he talked a lot. Old habits die hard.

They paused at what looked like a bedroom door. Something was awry.

“You three, wait out here.” Giovanni pointed at Feng, Jett, and Trace before his eyes landed on the only one remaining. “Come with me.”

Jaesung inhaled deeply and nodded.

It took a moment for his vision to adjust to the blazing light blinding him when he entered. But as soon as he did, he regretted ever walking in there.

Before him, a man was strapped to a chair, his wrists and ankles red from the pressure. His head was limp, sagging down, and contorted awkwardly to the side. Something about him didn’t seem right, and Jaesung could feel bile rise from his stomach. He instinctively put a hand over his face, the sharp taste in his mouth refusing to dissipate.

Jaesung was startled when the door slammed shut.

“Is he dead?” He couldn’t help but ask the question that had invaded his thoughts. Because if he wasn’t, then—

“Of course not. Where would be the fun in that?” Luca kicked the chair a few times, trying to rouse the dealer. “Wake up. The show’s about to start.”

The man’s head rolled, eyes half-lidded and unfocused.

“What’s wrong with him?” asked Jaesung.

"I fed him some of the drugs he’s been giving my men. A little thank you gift, you know?” The hint of anger in the young heir’s voice was hidden behind his smile. “Not to mention you owe me a favor, so I kept him alive for you.”

“Luca.” Giovanni called out to him like he was scolding a child. “We’ve wasted enough time already. Your father is waiting.”

“I know, I know.” Luca gave the chair one last kick. “This piece of shit needs put out of his misery. He’s out of it, so I doubt he even knows what’s going on.”

Taking in a deep breath, Jaesung spoke his next words carefully, even though inside he already had the answer. “Why did we have to come here if you had already broken in and did this? I don’t get it. What do you want from me?”

Luca approached Jaesung, his body instantly breaking out in a sweat. He leaned into him. “Don’t play dumb.”

Slowly, he pulled Jaesung’s gun from the back of his pants. Without saying another word, he flipped the safety on the pistol and spun it around for Jaesung to grab.

“Show me your loyalty.”

With hands shaking, Jaesung felt the cold steel of the gun in his grasp. This was it. It was an inevitability he knew would come when he signed up with the mafia. Yet, the reality of it held more emotions than he expected.

His palms were sweaty as he clenched the gun tightly, aiming it at the man just a few feet away.

Jaesung forced himself to keep his eyes open, to see the carnage he was about to set forth, to burn it into his mind for all eternity. He was selling his soul to the devil, and he wasn’t sure he’d get it back after all was said and done.

He squeezed the trigger, a mechanical sound reverberating before a loud crunch followed. The forceful jerk of the weapon made it fall from his grasp and crash to the floor.

“Bullseye,” said Luca.

The person before him didn't even cry out. There was a hole in the middle of his forehead, blood seeping out in rivulets. The drug dealer’s eyes were shot wide open, staring up at the ceiling, head cocked back from the kickback of the blast.

Jaesung’s mind was oddly blank, only able to focus on the dead person in front of him. It was so easy to end a life, taking no extra effort, just the pull of a trigger.

An unmoving target, unable to even fight back, and he killed him, snuffed out his life like a candle.

The saliva built up in his throat before he couldn’t hold it in, the contents of his stomach pouring out. He fell on his hands and knees, dry heaving until his chest burned. Jaesung could barely make out the ground underneath him through the tears. Was he crying?

His abdomen lurched one final time, a small punishment for the crime he committed. A reminder.

What the hell did he just do? Jaesung was not prepared for the consequences.

He let out a blood-curdling scream.