The Omertà banquet

"Boss , please, I—"

Before he could finish his sentence, Taewoo swiftly and coldly plunged the blade into Byun's chest. A short gasp escaped the man's lips as his body jerked violently. Blood quickly spread across his shirt, dark and viscous. He didn't get the chance to beg again.

Taewoo watched dispassionately as Byun's body went limp, his breathing ragged before finally stopping. The entire act was quick, efficient—just like the many other times he had dealt with traitors.

Wiping the blood off his blade, Taewoo gave one final glance at the lifeless figure before turning away. He wasn't shaken, not even a bit.

As he stepped out of the room, his men stood at attention, their eyes flicking toward him. Taewoo, without missing a beat, slid the blade back into its concealed sheath inside his jacket and addressed them.

"Clean it up," he said, his voice as steady as ever. "Make sure no one finds him."