Issue 4: The Third Son — “Pak Ammon”
Character reveal of Pak Ammon ❤
Please don’t:
- Feed the artwork into any A.I. models.
- Feed the story below into any A.I. models.
- Please don’t redistribute the content and art in a different form. Reposting is completely fine, but please credit the artist and author.
Content Warning: Black-specific racism, misogynistic slur.
The birds flew too low this morning. They barely cleared the stone fence while fluttering to the forest. Such desperate escape from the garden, despite the bird feeders and baths. Their needs would’ve been met.
Too bad.
In the hours that he sat by Renzou’s garden, Pak Ammon reveled in peace. Yesterday, herding his siblings had been harder. The youngest quartet needed the most attention. Zhenwei had defaulted to rage-infused management, to which the youngest trio rebelled against, whereas Kaan taunted. The others tiptoed.
Perhaps, one day, his brother would learn that this wouldn’t do. Not in situations that elevated stress and adrenaline. Ammon dropped his gaze onto the glass table, where his tablet rested. Once the most reliable source, in the past 24 hours, a render of hatred:
“As per Philip McMillian, efficient park rangers must be able to track and disappear quickly if dangerous animals appear. So, what of the Pak family? Of whom a distinguished park ranger is part of? Wouldn’t he have skills needed to “disappear” women?”
“Amo,” Zhenwei called with an unnatural unease in his tone.
Ammon exited the news app and resumed scheduling appointments. He shouldn’t have expected privacy. “Yes?”
“Erik confirmed Cumo pulled it,” Zhenwei said as he sat on the empty chair.
“Not from the app.” Ammon said softly, minding his brother’s mood. It became wasted effort. Zhenwei burst into an angry rant. As he entered the last of Eun-Seong’s clinical check-ups for the year and ignored his work calls, his older brother calmed, so the conversation continued. “Did you need help with something, hyung?”
Zhenwei hesitated. Ammon looked at him.
“…Eomma found a PR agency. First interview’s in 30,” his brother answered, and explained their mother’s strategy.
It almost made Ammon grin. Although time zones apart, their mother always prioritized the right things. As should he. “I’ll go first, hyung, and assess.”
“Not what I’m asking.”
The air of mistrust shrouded Ammon. He averted his gaze. “Then what?”
“Nothing. Just tellin’ you what’s up. You already gave a shitload of hours these cunts didn’t deserve. I’ll deal with it.”
The temptation to narrow eyes almost overwhelmed Ammon. “You want me hidden?”
Zhenwei narrowed his eyes. “Don’t, Amo.”
“Don’t what?” he countered, perhaps a touch too irritated.
Zhenwei stayed silent for awhile. Stared. After minutes, his brother found the nerve to speak. “You shouldn’t have more shit flung at you–no, lemme finish. You wanna help? Prep the others.”
Ammon returned his gaze onto Zhenwei. “I will not hide, hyung.”
About the Artist: Helena Santana
Extremely brazilian. Full-time illustrator. Got a few things under my belt! Been writing the same book forever. I’ll draw anything you like. It’s true!
Ammon merchandise at ACGGoods
