It has begun. Already, his mother and grandparents have been loading him up with tasks and paper work, forms to fill out and executive decisions to make. Already it's draining him dry; he hates waking up in the morning, he hates dragging himself to the building in which his mother stationed him for the time being. He has his own office now, large and spacious and empty as fuck because he has no idea what to put inside it. He has no trophies, no picture frames, no office-type decor. He's never wanted any of that.

He's not there now though, no, today is a bit of a field-trip. His grandparents have sent him on a mission, something akin to the idea of making sure the "product" reaches the "correct clients." Sounds boring as shit, and why Seunghyun has to personally go down there and escort the object to its destination, is beyond him. Isn't this the work of personal assistants or something? Isn't this what secretaries do?

Some heir to the Choi chaebol family he's become. All this is tedious and mind-numbing and he almost wishes he could jump into traffic and end everyone's misery. He sighs as he gets out of the car and walks towards the warehouse. Why is it at a warehouse? He keeps his shades on, even as he enters the building, scrunching his nose a bit at its desolated state. Does he have the correct address? This place looks abandoned. He wanders around the rooms a little while, aisle after aisle of giant, dusty boxes, before he hears talking and someone shouting. Has he come at a bad time? He hadn't been given a number to call or anything....

He turns a corner and freezes mid-breath, his eyes wide and his blood suddenly cold. He sees Sumin, standing over a man on his knees, a gun in her gloved hand, point-blank range against the man's sweaty forehead. There are two crates full of automatic assault rifles to the side. ".... Sumin?"