Jimin exhaled slowly, his eyes never leaving Mr. Cha's as he shifted into the lead, standing tall in front of me, his back straight and poised. The calm exterior he always carried was now layered with an edge of authority, his voice low and measured as he began, "Mr. Cha, there's a reason why your wife divorced you and is now remarkably able to open her own diner." His words were deliberate, cutting through the tension with a precision that left no room for misinterpretation. "Do you understand what is wrong with you?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with implications. For a moment, the room was silent. Mr. Cha's expression twisted, the faint smirk returning to his lips, but now it was harder, more jagged. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs with a dismissive wave of his hand, clearly unbothered.

"What's wrong with me?" he spat, the disgust in his voice clear as he raised an eyebrow at Jimin. "What isn't wrong with women like her?"

Jimin's jaw tightened ever so slightly, but he held his composure, his eyes still trained on the man before him.

"Your wife-she left you, Mr. Cha, and now she's thriving on her own. That should tell you something about how much she needed you." There was no malice in Jimin's voice, only a sharp, clinical precision. His words were like a scalpel, cutting deep into the very heart of the matter.

But Mr. Cha wasn't listening. His face twisted further, his features contorting into something vile and ugly.

"Needed me? That useless woman couldn't even do what a wife is supposed to do. What good is a woman who can't even keep her man satisfied?" His voice rose, dripping with venom. He sneered, his eyes narrowing as he threw his hands up in a mocking gesture. "But, oh, look at her now-a diner. As if that's some big fucking achievement."

Jimin's expression remained calm, but I could see the tension in the set of his shoulders. He didn't react to Mr. Cha's rant, letting him expose himself further. "And you know what, Park? I didn't need her. Not then, not now. She couldn't give me what I wanted, but I've got plenty of others who can."

Jimin's gaze didn't waver, but I could feel the shift in the air, the thin thread of patience beginning to fray as Mr. Cha's words grew more repulsive.

"Oh yeah," Mr. Cha continued, his voice lowering into something more insidious, leaning in as if he were sharing a secret. "I've got plenty of women who are dying to fuck me. Not like my useless wife. No, these girls, these thots, they know how to please a man." He paused, eyes gleaming as he leaned back, relishing his own words. "You wouldn't believe it, the things they'll do. I don't need to work hard for it either-they line up for me. Always ready. And they don't complain like her."

A wave of nausea rolled through me. The way he spoke, the utter disregard for human dignity, for the woman he had discarded, the way he used people as if they were nothing more than objects to feed his ego-it made my skin crawl. The room felt stifling, suffocating with the weight of his sickening pride.

Jimin stood still for a moment, absorbing Mr. Cha's vitriol. His silence stretched longer than it should have, but when he finally spoke, his voice was colder than I had ever heard it. "Mr. Cha," he said, slow and deliberate, "What you're describing is not power. It's not control. It's pathetic. You use other people to fill the emptiness in your own life, but deep down, you know as well as I do that you're just covering up your own insecurities."

Mr. Cha let out a sharp laugh, but there was something bitter behind it, a faint crack in his bravado. "You're full of shit," he snapped, though the sneer on his face faltered slightly. "What do you know about it? You're just some kid with a clipboard, pretending you understand life. You don't know anything about what it's like to be a man in this world."

Jimin took a step forward, his presence dominating the room now, the air around him thick with unspoken authority. "What I do know," he said, his voice like ice, "is that real strength, real control, doesn't come from exploiting others. It comes from respect, from building something meaningful. What you have, Mr. Cha, is an empty life, filled with empty people who don't care about you. And deep down, you know it."

Mr. Cha's face twisted with anger, his fists clenching on the arms of the chair. "You don't know a damn thing about me, Park."

Jimin didn't flinch. "I know enough." His voice was steady, unwavering, and for a moment, I saw the truth hit Mr. Cha, the weight of his own loneliness creeping in. But it was fleeting. Mr. Cha wasn't ready to face that reality, not yet. He scoffed, brushing off Jimin's words like dust, but there was a faint tremor in his hand as he reached for his glass.

"You're just like the rest of them," Mr. Cha muttered darkly, his voice lower now, the bravado fading. "Pretending to know what's best. But you have no idea."

Jimin remained calm, his eyes never leaving Mr. Cha's. "Maybe I don't," he admitted, his voice softening slightly. "But what I do know, again,  is that you have a choice. You can keep going down this path, destroying yourself and everyone around you-or you can start looking at what's really wrong. Your wife saw it. She left because she knew she deserved better. And you know that too."

Mr. Cha's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond. The silence that followed was thick, suffocating, the tension in the room almost unbearable. Jimin stood his ground, unwavering, while I stood behind him, still trying to process the raw disgust Mr. Cha's words had left in my chest. The man in front of us wasn't just vile-he was empty, hollowed out by his own self-inflicted wounds.

And for the first time, it wasn't anger I felt toward him. It was pity.

Jimin remained composed, but only for a moment. His words had cut deep into Mr. Cha's facade, but Cha wasn't ready to face that mirror yet. Instead, he smirked, leaning back with a look that sent a shiver down my spine. His eyes gleamed with something twisted, something weird that I knew Jimin was bracing for, but none of us could have predicted what came next.

And till this day, I could have never fathomed it any better.

"Oh, really?" Mr. Cha sneered, his voice dropping to a disgusting whisper, his eyes narrowing as they locked on Jimin. "And who are you to preach, huh? You escort. You fucking stripper. You think I don't know your type? I've sat people like you on my thighs, grinding them until they forgot how to scream." His laugh was low, dark, as he spat the words like venom, twisting the knife deeper.

I saw it, the way Jimin's face shifted. It was subtle, but I saw it. The crack in his confidence, the way his eyes widened just for a second, like all the strength and control he had been holding onto unraveled in an instant. His posture faltered, the poised professionalism he'd maintained crumbling as the words hit him like a tidal wave. The calm authority that had filled the room mere moments ago dissolved, leaving Jimin bare, vulnerable, standing in the middle of a storm he thought he had left behind long ago.

My heart clenched. I had never seen Jimin like this-so shattered, so small-and it set something off inside me, something primal and furious. This was it. This was my last fucking straw.

Before I knew what I was doing, the rage that had been simmering within me exploded, flooding my veins like molten fire. "You piece of shit!" I roared, my voice booming in the small room, shaking the very walls around us.

In a blur, I lunged at Mr. Cha, my hands grabbing him by the collar, yanking him up with a strength I hadn't realized I was capable of. He barely had time to register what was happening before my fist collided with his face, the sound of the impact echoing through the room. His head snapped back violently, a spray of blood bursting from his nose as my knuckles cracked against the bones. But I wasn't done. Not by a long shot.

"You fucking bastard!" I snarled, dragging him off the chair and slamming him into the wall. I could barely see through the haze of red that clouded my vision, but I could feel it-the satisfying crunch of his body hitting the plaster, the groan of pain that escaped his lips. I didn't care. He deserved worse. So much worse.

Mr. Cha fought back, wild and desperate, swinging at me with clumsy punches, but he was nothing compared to me. I was stronger, faster, and the fury that consumed me made me unstoppable. He managed to land a hit on my shoulder, but it barely registered. My fists found their mark again, and again, each blow landing with brutal precision as I dragged him across the room, throwing him toward the door.

Jimin was calling my name, I could hear him distantly, but I couldn't stop. Not now. Not after everything Mr. Cha had done. My grip tightened on his collar as I shoved him out of the office, my breath ragged and my pulse thundering in my ears. The entire building seemed to blur around me as I dragged him down the hallway, his feet stumbling behind me as he tried to keep up with my brutal pace.

"Get the fuck out!" I screamed, throwing him toward the exit, my voice hoarse with rage. "If you ever come near him again, I swear I'll end you. I'll call the police, and you won't get away this time. You hear me? You're fucking done!"

Mr. Cha groaned, trying to stand, but I was on him again, shoving him towards the door. He swung at me once more, but I dodged easily, landing another punch that sent him crashing to the ground. The sound of footsteps pounded behind us, and I turned to see Jimin's secretary rushing toward me, her phone already in hand.

"Security!" she called, her voice sharp and commanding. Within seconds, two security guards appeared, grabbing Mr. Cha by the arms and hauling him out of the building. His protests were drowned out by their firm grip, and I watched, chest heaving, as they dragged him out of the facility, his cries fading into the distance.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. The air was thick with tension, the adrenaline still pumping through my veins, but slowly-ever so slowly-it began to ebb away. My hands were trembling, my knuckles bruised and bloodied, but the rage that had consumed me was fading, leaving behind a hollow ache in its place.

She stood beside me, her chest rising and falling rhythmically as she caught her breath, the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. "Holy shit," she muttered, her gaze darting around the room, taking in the chaos that had just unfolded. "That... was something."

I wiped the sweat from my forehead, the remnants of anger lingering like a storm cloud overhead, obscuring any sense of calm. "He deserved it," I growled, my voice still thick with the residual fury that had propelled me through the confrontation.

"Oh, no doubt about that," she replied, a smirk tugging at her lips, a flicker of admiration lighting her expression. "You did what I've been wanting to do for years." Her laughter was low, almost incredulous, a sound that held more disbelief than amusement. "He's always been like that-treating Jimin like he's some... some object. I can't even count how many times he's tried to touch him, make disgusting comments, as if he's entitled to it."

My fists clenched involuntarily, the thought of Mr. Cha's hands on Jimin sending a wave of nausea rolling through me. "Why didn't anyone do anything before?" I asked, my voice strained as I struggled to contain the anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

She shrugged, her expression hardening, the light in her eyes dimming slightly. "It's complicated. He's got connections, and people like him are notoriously difficult to bring down. But you... what you did, that was something else." She met my gaze, her eyes glinting with an unmistakable sense of approval. "I've wanted to hit him with my heels so many times, but, you know, work rules and all that."

A weak smile managed to break through my tension, easing some of the knot that had formed in my chest. "I just... I couldn't take it anymore."

"I'm glad you did," she said, her tone fierce, unwavering. "And don't worry about any legal trouble. If it comes to that, I'll stand by you. I don't care about my job. That man deserved what he got, and if anyone comes for you, I'll be the first one to testify." Her words were like a shield, offering a sense of protection that calmed the storm still raging inside me.

I inhaled deeply, drawing in the air around me, the weight of her support settling in like a warm blanket.

"By the way, Mr. Jeon, I'm Yeohi Choi," she continued, her demeanor shifting slightly, the intensity in her eyes softening as she extended her hand. "I'm sure Jimin doesn't know my name."

A tiny laugh escaped me, a sound filled with relief and gratitude. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Choi," I replied, shaking her hand firmly, feeling the strength radiating from her.

Jimin finally appeared at my side, his face drained of color but still maintaining that quiet strength, his gaze soft yet searching, as if he was trying to assess the damage-both inside and out. The concern etched across his features made my chest tighten. Slowly, carefully, he reached out, his hand resting gently on my arm, his touch grounding me amidst the chaos still swirling within.

"JK," he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper, like he was afraid to shatter the fragile calm that had settled over us. His fingers, warm and reassuring, lingered on my skin, the weight of his presence pulling me back from the fraying edges of my temper. "Are you... okay?"

I looked at him, my eyes tracing the worry lines that had formed on his forehead, the slight tremble in his lips, and for a moment, all the rage that had been burning through me flickered out. My chest heaved with the remnants of anger, but his quiet concern snuffed it out.

"Are you?" I asked, my voice rough, tinged with the exhaustion that always followed moments like these.

Jimin's lips parted, as if he was about to respond, but hesitated. His eyes, deep pools of vulnerability, flickered with uncertainty, and he gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug. "Maybe?" His voice was tentative, unsure of what to say-unsure if he even knew the answer. There was a rawness to his tone that made my heart clench. He wasn't okay, not really, but he was trying. Trying to hold it together for me, for himself.

I swallowed hard, the adrenaline still coursing through my veins, making my skin buzz with restless energy. But the sight of Jimin standing there, struggling to keep his own calm, shifted something inside me. The storm that had been raging within began to quiet, replaced by an overwhelming need to protect him, to be strong for him in the way he'd always been for me.

I nodded, though my hands were still trembling, and the fury hadn't completely left me.

"I am now," I breathed out, the words coming slowly, as if they were being pulled from the very depths of me. I wasn't entirely sure if I believed it, but in that moment, with Jimin's hand on my arm and his eyes looking into mine with that unspoken connection we always had, it felt true enough.

His gaze softened further, and though he didn't say it aloud, I could see the relief washing over him, the small release of tension in his shoulders, the way his breath seemed to ease. We stood there in the wreckage of what had just transpired-broken words, shattered emotions, and yet, in the quiet that followed, I felt like we were starting to piece something back together. Together.