"Meet me where the waves crash against the shore, where the air is thick with the scent of salt and secrets," the Boss had instructed him. "Bring yourself, and we'll face this storm together."

It was the Boss's favorite haunt, a dive bar nestled by the sea, where darkness mingled with the lull of waves. Here, deals were struck and alliances were forged in the flickering light of whiskey-soaked whispers. In the dim corners, patrons murmured clandestine conversations, and under sporadic pin-lights, bartenders concocted their mixology.

Robert Douglas, known as the Wolf of Wall Street for his wealth, success, and cunning, lit up a Marlboro Red, smoke curling around him. Unbeknownst to many, his only moments of solace were found in the haze of his cigarettes. Across from him sat the Boss, his expression inscrutable. Douglas had always been his loyal hound.

The television flickered to life, casting a sterile glow over the bar's interior. Royce's desperate screams echoed through the airwaves before he was whisked away. Despite his shattered state, his fragmented words resonated chillingly.

"I'd stop drinking and make a mad dash for that final taste of a McDonald's cheeseburger cooked 8 times on 8th Avenue... Robert Douglas,” Royce yelled fiercely.

To Douglas, it wasn't merely the ramblings of a disturbed mind; it was a dire warning. He reached for his whiskey, hands trembling as though facing impending doom.
"Boss, Royce just spilled my name," Douglas muttered, downing his drink in one gulp. "What's the plan if they come knocking for me?"

"You've always been loyal, Douglas," the Boss mused, pouring another drink. "That's why I need you to take care of Royce. Clean up this mess."

이주예 강남포스트 학생기자  webmaster@ignnews.kr

<저작권자 © 강남포스트, 무단 전재 및 재배포 금지>