Chapter 37: A Not-So-Bad End

(At least it wasn’t death in some cold dark cell in Siberia.)

( ... you got the joke, right? Right?)

Three months later.

Sang Mi stood proudly beneath a bright new banner, giant scissors in hand.

She grinned ear to ear as the ribbon fluttered to the ground, officially opening her new pride and joy:

“Pochabunny — Sexy Belly & Beer.”

(Tagline: “Where buns meet pork belly.”)

Grandma was already at the counter, handing out sample pork skewers to the queue outside.

Sang Mi, ever the entrepreneur, had wisely opened just across the street from her old stomping ground.

And yes — she offered a 15% discount to “industry professionals.”

(You know what kind of professionals.)

Near the bar, Hana stood beside that doctor.

Yes, the handsome one. The one who could suture a wound and melt panties with a look.

Their fingers brushed casually.

They weren’t quite lovey-dovey.

But they were a thing.

The doctor didn’t ask questions. Not the kind that mattered.

He once leaned over and murmured,

“You were involved in that ... whole massacre thing, weren’t you?”

Hana sipped her beer. “I forgot.”

He never asked again.

(Smart man.)

And let’s just say this —

Thank the gods for all those years of “sexercise” on the street, because Hana’s Rambo-style lovemaking could’ve killed a lesser man.