MY RAY OF HOPE IN THIS WORLD OF CRIME

Elior's words left the young woman deeply unsettled.

She stood there, lost in thought, while Elior kept calling her name.

After a while, she finally snapped back to reality.

"Hey. Are you listening to me?"

"Yes, yes... I was just thinking."

Elior looked at her with a faint smile.

"Thinking about what? The best way to call the police and have them come arrest me?"

He said it teasingly, deliberately trying to get under her skin.

But the young woman wasn't about to let the opportunity pass.

"No. The police would be too easy. I was just thinking about how I could put you back into a coma for good, old gangster."

The moment he heard that, Elior's playful expression disappeared.

"You really seem to hate me."

She answered without hesitation.

"How could I possibly like someone like you? People like you prevent society from functioning properly. You sit on every street corner selling drugs and destroying the lives of young girls and boys. If you were in my position, would you like someone like yourself?"

Elior noticed something.

This wasn't simply anger.

She seemed to be looking for someone-anyone-to whom she could finally pour out everything she had been keeping inside.

Naturally as laid-back as ever, Elior replied,

"No, thanks. I have no desire to be in your position. You can keep it."

Then, with a faint smile, he added,

"Now I understand why you don't have a husband."

The young woman stared at him, stunned and slightly embarrassed.

But she wasn't about to lose the argument.

"A beautiful, well-proportioned woman like me, and-"

Elior cut her off before she could finish.

"Beautiful? Who told you that? Do you even look at yourself in the mirror once in a while? You look more like an old lady."

That was when the young woman actually took a look at what she was wearing.

Elior might not have been entirely wrong.

Her clothes did resemble something an older woman might wear.

It was simply the style she preferred when she was at home.

She suddenly felt self-conscious.

"No, that's not-"

Elior interrupted her again.

"Whatever. I don't need the details, old lady. Keep your explanations to yourself."

That was the final straw.

She clenched her fists.

Her anger finally exploded.

In a raised voice, she snapped,

"Don't call me an old lady! If you say it one more time, I'll kick you out myself!"

Usually, no woman dared raise her voice at Elior.

He had crossed paths with women far more dangerous than this one, and yet none of them had ever dared speak to him that way.

So he was genuinely surprised by how agitated she had become.

He stared at her for a few seconds.

"Me? With a kick?"

She immediately shot back,

"Do you see anyone else here?"

Elior slowly stepped toward her.

His movements were calm and deliberate, almost effortlessly charismatic.

With every step, the atmosphere seemed to grow heavier.

Fear began to creep through the young woman.

Suddenly, she felt incredibly small in front of him-like a tiny rabbit standing before a fierce lion.

Elior stopped in front of her.

His voice dropped to a low, threatening tone.

"I've never allowed anyone to get into the habit of raising their voice at me. No one."

He paused.

"Even if that person were the president of this country."

His gaze turned colder.

"Raise your voice at me one more time, and you'll understand why so many people call me a ruthless gangster."

A heavy silence settled between them.

Several seconds passed.

Then the young woman's voice broke the silence.

"This is my house. Am I not allowed to raise my voice in my own home anymore? Did you pay for it?"

The instant she finished speaking, Elior suddenly raised his hand.

It looked as though he was about to slap her.

By instinct, the young woman immediately squeezed her eyes shut.

She grimaced, bracing herself for the impact.

Inside her head, one thought repeated itself over and over.

Why did I open my mouth and say that? I'm such an idiot.

A few seconds passed.

Nothing touched her face.

Yet in her imagination, the slap had already landed.

I'm going to die...

The size of this man's hand...

Big brother, I'm coming to join you soon.

Waaah... waaah...

She slowly opened one eye.

Nothing.

Elior hadn't hit her.

Instead, he gently placed his hand on top of her head and ran his fingers through her hair.

"I like that."

The young woman opened both eyes.

A faint smile appeared on Elior's lips.

"You've got guts. But I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, considering you're that man's little sister. You're quite a character."

The young woman pouted.

"Don't mess up my hair."

Elior's voice immediately turned deep and threatening.

"What?"

She instantly realized her mistake.

She began to sweat.

"Yes, yes, yes... Mess it up however you want, Mr. Ruthless Gangster."

Elior turned away.

He began talking to himself, lost in thought.

This woman really has guts... or maybe she's completely insane.

He shook his head slightly.

Why couldn't I bring myself to slap her?

He remained silent for a moment.

Is she simply too innocent... or is it because she's that man's little sister?

As he pondered those questions, a voice came from behind him.

"You just said I have as much guts as my brother. So you must have known him well enough to say that."

Elior glanced back.

She continued,

"What was your relationship? Colleagues? Friends?"

She hesitated.

"No... My brother couldn't possibly have been either a colleague or a friend of some old gangster..."

She abruptly stopped and covered her mouth.

Elior had heard every word.

A faint smile appeared on his face.

"An old gangster like me?"

He shook his head.

"Well, she's not wrong. I am an old gangster."

His expression grew more serious.

"But if you believe your brother was a perfect man, then you didn't know him nearly as well as you thought you did."

The young woman was stunned.

She had never heard anyone speak about her brother that way.

To her, he had always been the closest thing to perfection a person could be.

She couldn't help asking,

"Why would you say that? What did you know about him?"

Elior didn't answer immediately.

He calmly walked over to the sofa and sat down.

The nerve of this man...

Just a few minutes ago, he was playing the role of an innocent homeless man who didn't even want to come inside.

And now he's sitting comfortably like this is his own house.

Elior clasped his hands in front of his mouth.

His entire demeanor changed.

He looked at the young woman with deadly seriousness.

Then, slowly, he began to speak.

"Your brother... was..."