[POINT OF VIEW: LEO - FIRST PERSON]
I sank into the sofa cushions, a defeated general in my own headquarters. My ear burned with the fire of humiliation. Around me, the air was thick with a mix of residual horror and, worse, poorly disguised amusement. I could see Min-jun trying to turn a laugh into a coughing fit. Mr. Choi, now recovered from his faint, looked at me as if I were a high-risk asset that had just catastrophically depreciated.
And she, Jo Yu-ri, stood a short distance away, arms crossed, watching me like a falconer watches a newly caught, particularly troublesome hawk. Her face was a storm of emotions, but anger had won the battle and now stood guard.
Honestly, I didn't understand the problem.
My brain reviewed the events with cold logic.
A question about a fictional character (Sang-woo) was posed.
I was asked for my solution to that hypothetical problem.
I provided a practical, historically referenced solution (the Colombian necktie) that met the objective of punishing betrayal and sending a deterrent message.
Upon detecting a lack of comprehension in my audience, I proceeded with a visual demonstration to ensure clarity.
As a result, my ear was subjected to an unjustified assault.
The logic was impeccable. The reaction was completely irrational. Why were they upset? I was just being thorough. In my world, clarity saves lives. Ambiguity kills you. If you're going to threaten someone, they'd better perfectly understand what you're capable of. It was a lesson, not an act of cruelty. A lesson that, apparently, had not been well received.
I rubbed my sore ear and sighed. Neurotypical people were exhausting.
[POINT OF VIEW: JO YU-RI - THIRD PERSON]
Jo Yu-ri stood there, her heart pounding from the adrenaline of the confrontation. Had she just dragged a man who had faced the KGB by the ear? Had she just put a man who had taken a selfie with Kim Jong Un in his place? The idea was so absurd that for a moment she felt lightheaded.
But seeing him there, on the sofa, pouting and rubbing his ear like a scolded child, the feeling of power was replaced by a wave of exasperation and overwhelming responsibility. She realized that no one else in that room knew how to handle him. Helena was too cold; her methods were punishments, not corrections. The rest were too intimidated or too amused by his chaos. Somehow, against all logic, she had become his moral compass. A compass that, apparently, worked by ear pulls.
She looked at his face and saw his genuine confusion. And that was the most terrifying thing of all. He didn't believe he had done anything wrong. He wasn't being malicious. Simply, the switch for "this is socially monstrous and will terrify the people around you" didn't exist in his brain. He saw the demonstration not as an act of psychopathy, but as an exercise in clarity. And that disconnect, that blindness to the most basic norms of human interaction, was an abyss that terrified her and, strangely, made her feel profound pity for him. How lonely must one feel in a world whose most fundamental rules one doesn't understand?
[POINT OF VIEW: LEE JUNG-JAE - THIRD PERSON]
Lee Jung-jae, having recovered from the initial shock, saw the situation not as an actor, but as an older man, like a father. He saw Leo on the sofa, not as a lethal operative, but as a child prodigy, a survival savant who was, at the same time, completely ignorant in the art of being human. Yu-ri's reprimand had been effective on a physical level, but Jung-jae knew that the lesson had not truly sunk in on a fundamental level.
He felt it was his duty to try. He cautiously approached the sofa, as one approaches a wild animal that has been temporarily tamed. He sat down at a respectful distance. Leo looked at him suspiciously, instinctively guarding his good ear.
"Leo," Jung-jae began, his voice soft and deep, the tone he would use for a dramatic, emotional scene. "We need to talk about what you just explained."
"I've already had my ear pulled for it," Leo grumbled. "I think the message is clear. No more visual demonstrations of cartel punishment techniques. Understood."
"No," Jung-jae said patiently. "It's not about the demonstration. It's about the idea. The thing itself." He leaned in slightly, his expression serious and sincere. "What you described... the Colombian necktie... that's a terrible thing, Leo. An atrocity. I understand that your world is different, that you've seen and done things we can't even imagine. But I want you to promise me something."
He waited for Leo's eyes to meet his. "Promise me. Promise all of us... that you will never do that to anyone. No matter who betrays you. No matter what they've done. Human beings... we simply don't do that to each other. There's a line that shouldn't be crossed."
It was a passionate plea, an appeal to the fundamental decency that resides in the heart of humanity. A request for Leo to acknowledge that line.
[POINT OF VIEW: LEO - FIRST PERSON]
I listened carefully to Lee Jung-jae's words. His speech was very moving. He had a great stage presence, even sitting on a sofa. I could see why he was such a big star. His voice was deep, his gaze sincere. He was making a moral appeal.
And my brain processed it all with impeccable logic.
Request Analysis: Lee Jung-jae (and by extension, the group) requests a promise that I will not apply the "Colombian Necktie" punishment technique to any person in the future.
Context: The request arises from the fear and horror caused by my recent explanation.
Key Variable: The group's fear seems to focus on the possibility of me applying this technique to one of them or in their presence.
Threat Assessment: The prerequisite for applying the technique is severe betrayal.
Current Group Analysis: After a quick evaluation, I determine that the probability of anyone present (actors, manager, police, Helena) committing an act of betrayal warranting cartel-level punishment is extremely low. They are, for the most part, harmless and are now under my indirect protection.
Conclusion: Their fear is unfounded. The request, although emotionally valid from their perspective, is logically unnecessary in the current context. Therefore, the most efficient way to alleviate their anxiety is to address their underlying concern directly.
I looked at Lee Jung-jae, whose face was still full of hopeful gravity. I gave him one of my most reassuring smiles, the one I used to calm nervous local guides or corrupt customs officials.
"Oh," I said with a dismissive wave of my hand, as if brushing aside a silly worry. "Sure, of course. You don't have to worry about that at all."
I gestured with my head towards the rest of the room, encompassing everyone with my reassuring gaze.
"There are no traitors here," I declared with cheerful, irrefutable logic. "So there's no need to do it."
[POINT OF VIEW: GROUP - THIRD PERSON]
If a pin had dropped at that moment, its clang would have sounded like a collapsing building.
An absolute, dense, icy silence descended upon the room. Leo's words, uttered with such genuine innocence and such terrifying logic, hung in the air like a deferred death sentence.
He had once again understood nothing.
In fact, he had understood something far worse. He hadn't rejected the request; he had accepted it, but not on moral grounds. He had accepted it based on a current risk assessment. He hadn't promised not to become a monster. He had simply stated that, for now, he had no reason to be one. The implication was as clear as water and as cold as ice: if circumstances changed, if someone in that room betrayed him, the "Colombian necktie" was not an unthinkable atrocity; it was a viable option in his toolbox.
Lee Jung-jae's face fell apart. The hope in his eyes was replaced by deep, cold disappointment. His plea for humanity had been received as a mere clause in a situational contract.
Wi Ha-joon closed his eyes. He saw it with a detective's clarity. He doesn't have a moral framework for violence, he thought. It's pure pragmatism. Stimulus-response. Betrayal equals punishment. No betrayal equals no punishment. Ethics, compassion... are not variables in his equation.
Helena, from her armchair, sighed. An almost inaudible sigh, but heavy with the weight of years of failed attempts. This was the part of Leo that no medication, no therapy, no ear pull could fix. His logical, amoral core.
But it was Jo Yu-ri who reacted.
She had been standing, listening, her heart beating with new hope as Lee Jung-jae spoke. She had thought: Now he'll understand. Now he'll see the line. And then, she heard Leo's reply. And hope shattered, replaced by an icy fury.
The problem wasn't his impulsivity. The problem wasn't his lack of filter. The problem was that, deep down, he was fundamentally dangerous, because he didn't understand why he shouldn't be.
And the fury gave her clarity.
[POINT OF VIEW: JO YU-RI - THIRD PERSON]
She didn't scream. She said nothing. She simply walked.
Leo saw her coming and his reassuring smile wavered, replaced by an expression of comic panic. Instinctively, he brought both hands to his ears, protecting them.
"Hey, wait!" he exclaimed. "What have I done now? I promised I wouldn't! I've been very cooperative!"
She didn't stop. She reached the sofa, pushed his protective hands away with surprising ease, and grabbed the same ear as before. The skin was already red and inflamed from previous abuses.
And she pulled.
"OWOWOWOWOWOWOWOW!!!" Leo howled, a sound that was a mix of pain and pure injustice. "WHY!? I SAID YES!"
"YOU STILL DON'T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING, YOU AIRHEAD!" she hissed, her voice a furious whisper as she yanked him to his feet. "The point isn't WHETHER you're going to do it or not! The point is that it should NEVER be an option! It's not a tool! It's not a 'consequence'! It's barbaric! And until your empty head processes that simple truth, your ear is going to be very, very hot!"
She dragged him again, a repeat of the previous scene, but this time with a much grimmer determination. She dragged him away from the comfortable sofa, away from the company of the others, and led him back to the corner of punishment.
"But the logic is impeccable!" he protested, limping beside her. "If there's no crime, there's no punishment! It's a basic legal principle! OW!"
She pushed him against the wall. "You're going to stay here," she ordered, her voice brooking no argument. "And you're going to think. Not about logic. Not about tactics. You're going to think about why civilized people don't mutilate each other. And you don't move, you don't speak, and you don't breathe too loudly in my direction until I, personally, believe you've understood something."
She turned and faced the rest of the room, who were watching her with a mix of awe, terror, and immense respect. She crossed her arms, planting herself a couple of meters from the corner, a jailer for the world's most dangerous prisoner.
Helena watched her from her armchair. A long, slow smile, the most genuine they had ever seen from her, spread across her face. She raised her teacup in a silent toast to Yu-ri.
The war council had dissolved. The morality class had begun. And the teacher was a five-foot-five pop star with an iron grip and very little patience.