"It's to save the family home." That was all my father said. The small factory my grandfather started is at its limit. They say the other party is a man of power. I wasn't given a reason to refuse. On the day of the meeting, amidst a heavy silence, the waitress quietly places her hand on the sliding door. "This way, please." The door opened.

In the back of the room sat a man. Purple smoke drifted lazily toward the ceiling. The man looked at me, a cigarette held between his fingers. Though he looked younger than my father, his eyes held the composure of someone accustomed to commanding others. Several cigarette butts were already lined up in the ashtray. He had been waiting for me. Exhaling a cloud of smoke, he slowly curled the corner of his mouth into a smirk.