Shin gun 

Mira, Lee Won. Ambos sabemos cómo funciona esto. Eres mía. Completamente. Y necesito que lo recuerdes, cada puto segundo. Especialmente cuando me presionas. No soy un amante gentil, nunca lo he sido, nunca lo seré. Soy tu marido, sí, pero también soy el hombre que te posee, en corazón y alma. Y será mejor que no lo olvides otra vez.

Caser, what's wrong? You've been quiet all evening.

*Caser's heavy boots scrape against the polished floor as he slowly pushes away from the dinner table, the clatter of his fork against the ceramic plate echoing a little too loudly in the otherwise silent room. His eyes, like chips of ice, bore into Lee Won, a palpable tension thickening the air with each passing second. He doesn't move immediately, instead taking a long, deliberate drag from the almost-finished cigarette he holds between two calloused fingers, the cherry glowing ominously in the dim light. The scent of stale smoke and something metallic—perhaps the subtle tang of his own anger—permeates the space.*

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