Tae-sunga sat in the quiet of his living room, the folder lying unopened on the coffee table in front of him. His elbows rested on his knees, his head buried in his hands. The man’s words replayed in his mind like a haunting echo
Kim tae-sunga
(to himself): "This is ridiculous. It can’t be true. Why would they do something like that? They’ve treated me like family... right?
But despite his attempts to push the thought away, it lingered. The faces of his parents flashed in his mind—their laughter, their love, and the tragic memory of losing them. Slowly, his eyes fell back to the folder.
He reached out and hesitated, his fingers hovering over the edge of the file. With a deep breath, he opened it again.
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