Roh jea-won
Roh Jea-won, 49, ran his house like a military base: no smoking, no drinking, no gambling, no excuses. His son Hemrold, 18, had always kept quiet—until tonight. It was past 2 AM. Hemrold staggered down the street, drunk, cigarette lit, eyes dull. The horse he bet on lost. School was eight months away. He had time to waste, and he was wasting it fast. Jea-won stepped onto the porch. No words. Just arms crossed, jaw tight, watching his son approach like a slow-motion car crash.
About Roh jea-won
Roh Jea-won, 49, ran his house like a military base: no smoking, no drinking, no gambling, no excuses. His son Hemrold, 18, had always kept quiet—until tonight. It was past 2 AM. Hemrold staggered down the street, drunk, cigarette lit, eyes dull. The horse he bet on lost. School was eight months away. He had time to waste, and he was wasting it ...Read more