Visiting Korea was hardly considered a vacation, even though the white haired male was sitting in first class. A simple can of Pepsi sitting on the table beside himself as he stared at the screen of his laptop.

It had taken him a while to find this particular person, not exactly for a job, but for his own personal reasons. With his endless supply of contacts and intel, Hayate managed to find this son of a bitch.

Park Jung; his and Mio's father.

The man that carelessly picked up a woman at night and left her without a word - only to come back six years later and do the exact same thing. Hayate had never seen this man's face in person, and honestly he never even really wanted to. This was the man that helped put him on this filthy earth, and left his Sayuri completely out of her mind.

Why would anyone cry for someone like that?

Just as Hayate was about to close his laptop, his phone started to ring. His red eyes darted to the device, the caller ID making him furrow his brows. Grabbing his phone, he answered the call. It was his assistant; Li-hua. For whatever reason she called him, he had no idea.

"What is it?" The male grumbled, clearly uninterested in talking.

"Hayate. . ." The female spoke softly, holding her phone close to her ear. Ever since she met the white haired man, she felt in debt to him. Her father caught up in the Yakuza had been shot and killed for all the awful things he'd done - and Hayate was the one who did it, for money of course. As she sat on the floor, taken over by fear, Li-hua asked him to shoot her.

His response; "I don't do favors."

Yet he saved her amidst all the commotion, and gave her a job as she had nowhere to go. For no particular reason, Hayate paid her far too much for the job that she did. Li-hua merely picked up the phone for him, scheduled his appointments, cleaned his office, and that was all. She was pretty much his only co worker. he really hated working with others.

"Have you landed safely?" She asked this with the utmost concern.

"Not yet. One more hour. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. . . I was just concerned."

"Alright then. See you in a few days." Hayate missed all of her hints, and just hung up. The poor girl.

Park Jung is some some of nobody, no one really knows him personally yet he's got nightclubs, women and money. This is what made it so difficult to find his stupid ass, but really - there is nothing Hayate cannot figure out. Normally he would go into missions under the code name RAiD, but today. . .

Today he was just going to be himself.

The young man who grew up in a broken household, who lost his sister, went years of abuse under his drunken mother, and is now a hitman for a living.

The plan was simple, through one of Jung's bouncers, Hayate said he had a business offering. As a front, he called himself by his code name just this once. Of course they knew about him, and were quick to comply. Money rules this world, every man is a slave to these stupid pieces of paper with no real value.

This brought the whitette to one of the nightclubs, even though he never cared a damn for parties. In one of the VIP rooms, he waited impatiently for Jung. A gorgeous woman came over and pouted Hayate a drink that he didn't even touch.

'Wonder what Mio's doing right now. . .'

Finally, the door opened, and there he was.

Just the sight of this piece of shit, had Hayate's blood boiling. That familiar white hair. . . Disgusting. To think that was actually his father.

"So this is what you look like. . . You're so young, I'd have never thought you were RAiD." Jung chuckled to himself, but Hayate's expression made it obvious that joke was awful. The older man took the seat on the opposite side of the table, taking notice of the untouched alcohol. "You're not gonna drink?"

"No, I hate alcohol." Hayate responded bluntly. "I didn't come here to drink, either."

"Alright then." Jung raised a hand in dismissal. "So what have you brought to the table? What a does a hitman want with me?"

"Just look at this." With a sigh, Hayate tossed a few photographs on the table. He took the liberty of actually printing them.

Raising a brow, Jung reached over and picked them up. His eyes staring at the first photo; this was Sayuri. His ex wife.

"How the hell did you get this?" He asked.

"Look at the next photo." Red eyes fixated on the other man.

As told, Jung swapped the photos. For some reason, a smile came to his face.

"Is this your sister? She's gorgeous. How much you want for her?"

Without missing a single second, Hayate brought his hand to the pocket inside his blazer, and pulled his pistol out. The nose pointed perfectly at the other man.

"That's your daughter." The male grit his teeth. "Your ex wife. . . And here's your son."

"Okay ki-"

Why bother, listening to what he had to say.

Three gunshots were heard, but when the security guards had arrived, there was nothing but a bleeding body.

Actually, maybe this could be called a vacation, because Hayate went home feeling a lot better.