Kai's POV

“Oppa I didn’t do it. Please believe me. I really didn’t do it,” Tears streamed down Hana’s cheeks. She gripped my hand, hoping that I would believe her. I had given her so many chances. Should I give her another one?

I released my hand from my grip from Hana and stared blankly at her. All at once the sadness overwhelmed her and the silent tears flowed down her chilled face.

I had no idea why I allowed her to do it over and over again. Each time was a new start, a fresh her, a chance to leave the disappointments behind. But as I stood beside Hana and watched the minutes past on the clock in the room, I realized she'd done it again. My heart sank and my anger flared. 'Never again', I vowed under my breath. But how many times had she said that before? Too many times. Did she mean it this time? I hoped so.  I only had myself to blame.

Even though Hana was a troublemaker she had not once stolen things. This was the limit. What had I done? Have I not brought her up well enough? What was I lacking? The desolation I felt was all consuming. My mind became an icy waste land, the wind howled in my soul and wrapped icy tentacles around my heart so tightly it almost stopped beating. I was mortified, frozen to the spot. I felt traumatized. I couldn't believe it had happened. I stood soaking in the cruel laughter, my head beginning to spin. I'd never live this down as long as I'd live.

“This is your sister?” The burly man with the meaty hands pointed a fat finger at Hana.

I looked up and he was staring at me in bewilderment. I felt the heat rising to my cheeks and prayed it wasn’t noticeable.

“This idiot was stealing from my shop. She still had the cheek to steal from me even though there were cameras. I wonder who taught her this. Did she come from a family of thieves?” The shop owner sneered at me.

The news passed through me like a hurricane. Everything I had worked and struggled for now was lying in ruins.

“One look at you and I can tell that you’re a beggar. For all I know she could be a e.” My eyes narrowed as the man continued taunting my sister.  Even though he was rich and owns an art gallery, being rude wasn't going to get him out of this.

"What did you say?" I asked. The man looked clearly unimpressed.

A cruel sneer formed on his smooth face and he leaned forward, eyes bearing straight into mine. "I said your sister could be a e for all I know.”

My hands twitched and I could feel a vein pulsing in my forehead. "You wanna bet?"
"Sorry kid, but I don't fight children. Especially-"

My anger and hatred getting the better of me as I closed in the distance between the man and myself. My voice lowered, almost to a whisper. “Don’t you dare talk like that about my sister.”

“Remember she stole from me,” the shop owner repeated.

“I didn’t steal it. Another girl stole it and she put the blame on me. Please check the CCTV footage,” Hana begged the man.

I felt emotionally bankrupt. The was nothing left to feel, nothing left to say, nothing left but the void that enveloped my mind in swirling blackness. I was sick and tired of hearing her excuses. But I can’t leave her alone. She was my sister. She needs me.

“I saw it with my own two eyes. There is no need for me to check the footage. I will call the police. Both of you can explain to them,” My eyes widened at his words.

“NO! Don’t call them. I’ll do anything that you ask me to. Just don’t call the police. My sister’s only sixteen. Her future will be ruined,” I explained in an attempt to convince him to change his mind.

“You were rude to me. Nothing can undo that,” He pointed out. I ran my hands through my hair in frustration.

The beefy man picked up the phone and began to press the button. I sighed in disappointment. My hopes and dreams were annihilated with a phone call to the police. The guilt sat not on my chest but inside my brain. What I had done I could not un-do. 

“Wait sir! I have something for you,” A lanky teenager barged into the room with a brown envelope in his hand.

The shop owner stared at his worker with beady eyes, seemingly agitated at his arrival. The teenager handed him the envelope.

“What is this?!” The shop owner exclaimed, waving it in the air.

“Someone by the name of Mr Kwon wants you to have this.” After he said that, the slender teenager left the room on a rush.

Mr Kwon? Was he here? I turned around to look at the doorway. To my dismay, no one was there. My eyebrows creased in confusion. Did he find out?

The brawny shop owner peeked into the envelope and a smirk tugged at his lips.

The anticipation was a nervous kind of energy. It tingled through me like electrical sparks on the way to the ground, gathering in my toes. The wall clock ticked like the timer on a bomb. I couldn't stop it, reverse it or slow it down. I could no more avoid it than the beating of my own heart as it pounded with futility against its cage of bone and cartilage. The dread was an invisible demon sitting heavy on my shoulders and only I could hear the ripping of the envelope. I sweat and become pale, and then the tremor in my hands began.