He Ruined Me, Then Called It Love

On the night of my father’s funeral, while I kept vigil beside his urn, they came for me.

A crew of men stormed the funeral hall, shattering the silence owed to the dead. They desecrated my father's ashes and, with the code that once protected our name gone to ruin, forced me to cooperate with three strangers in filming an eight-hour blackmail film.

By the next day, the footage had been burned onto discs and passed through every social club, every back room, every corner of the territory.

My betrothed broke our alliance pact without a moment's hesitation.