“On January 17th, your son attempted to forcibly remove a young man from Velvet Eclipse. I was present. I intervened.”
There was a pause.
Mrs. Jang blinked. “I’m sorry, is that… a new jazz lounge? One of those high-end clubs?”
Mr. Jang cleared his throat, a nervous chuckle escaping. “Sounds rather… exclusive.”
Seungho didn’t humor it.
“I was present. I intervened.”
Silence.
“Three nights ago,” he continued, “Minseok followed the same person after ice skating practice. Cornered him. Forced him into a vehicle. There was a struggle. Multiple injuries.”
Mrs. Jang’s smile was gone now. Her hand hovered over her teacup, then withdrew.
Mr. Jang shifted, confused. “I—he’s been under stress—there was a dispute with our board, and—”
Seungho tapped the envelope. Gently. Like a nail into wood.
“Photographs. Medical documentation. Witness statements. Traffic camera footage. You’ll find the facts don’t require embellishment.”
Mrs. Jang opened her mouth. Closed it again. The color had drained from her cheeks.
Mr. Jang tried again, voice thinner now. “We weren’t aware he was… seeing anyone. If we had more information, we might be able to reach out, clear things up—”
“That’s not your right to know,” Seungho said, eyes lifting.
Still measured. Still polite.
But something underneath flexed — a ripple of fire in velvet gloves.
“You’ll remember his name in court, if you make me go that far.”
That landed. A thud without sound.
Mr. Jang sat back, as if the leather beneath him had become brittle.
Mrs. Jang’s eyes shone glassy, stunned by the realization that their son’s behavior had a paper trail. And that Seungho had curated it like evidence for a burial.
“I’m not here to warn you,” Seungho said, voice quieter now. “I’m here to let you know I’m already involved. And unlike you, I don’t pretend not to see what’s in front of me.”
The silence that followed had texture — a heavy, woolen hush full of fraying reputations.
Then Seungho laid the cards down.
“There are two paths forward.”
He turned toward Mr. Jang fully now, shoulders squared like a verdict walking upright.
“In the first, I go to the police. Charges include: repeated assault, attempted kidnapping, sexual harassment, and battery. I have more than enough to proceed.”
Mr. Jang’s lips pressed thin.
“In the second,” Seungho continued, “your son disappears. Quietly. From the university. From the club. From the boy’s life. You fix what he broke. Without noise. Without dignity. Without delay.”
Mrs. Jang inhaled sharply. “Are you threatening us?”
