Chapter 19: Sang Mi’s Other Shoes

The next two nights passed without incident. Hana had memorized the street corners, the neon rhythm, the unwritten rules of the trade. Names blurred, faces passed, but none were him—the bastard son she was hunting.

On the third night, though, the street gave her something else.

A banker.

Flashy watch. Mid-40s. Gold tie clip. His hairline was receding, but he wore confidence like cologne—thick and overcompensating.

Hana spotted him across the street before he spoke. She didn’t need confirmation—Sang Mi had mentioned him once.

“The sweaty banker who calls me noona. Tips well, talks too much. Can’t find the G-spot if it came with GPS.”

He walked up, smiling like they were old friends.

“You’re new,” he said. “But you’ve got that veteran vibe. Like ... like you know what I need before I say it.”