7. Jin
Monroe has lived in Busan for a year and, from my research, has had no family or friends visit her.
But it’s during the week I’m trying to kill her that, finally , someone shows up. Her mother is the same height she is, petite and small like her daughter, but with a few extra pounds added over time.
I can see where Monroe gets many of her features from—her copper complexion, her large and emotive eyes, the delicate shape of her round nose and face that have a permanent youthful element.
You can take a look at them together and tell they are mother and daughter.
I keep my distance as Monroe shows true happiness for the first time since I’ve started tracking her. It’s apparent her mother frustrates her, like many parents do their children, but there is a lot of care and affection between them.
As they climb into the backseat of the taxicab at the airport, Monroe’s mother strokes her daughter’s hair. Outside Monroe’s apartment, she carries her mother’s heavy suitcase, and then later gives her the bed.
All displays of familial love that are foreign to me.
The memories I have of my mother fade more and more as time goes by. Soon she’ll cease to exist entirely.
Some would look at Monroe and her mother and find their bond endearing.
I look at them and find myself deeply agitated that, once again, Monroe Ross has weaseled her way out of death. Unknowingly on her part but frustrating just the same.
The girl just may be the luckiest person in Busan without even realizing it.
I show up to Kim Jae-hyun’s office inside the Claw Lounge. The lounge is for members of the Baekho Pa only, along with some of the unsavory characters we often associate with. Which means it’s not uncommon for trouble to arise inside its confines.
The only time I tend to visit is when I’m coming by for another tattoo from Do-shik, or when I’m reporting updates to Jae-hyun about my operation.
As soon as the door to his office opens and I step inside, I know it’s one of those nights for him.
The lights are dimmed. The massive flat-screen TV plays another graphic adult film with some bleach-blonde woman being pounded by two men. She lies on top of one while the other lies on top of her, both holes plugged. The sound of her theatrical moans fills the room.
Jae-hyun, the Baekho-je, sits sprawled out in his comfy leather chair, clearly enjoying the entertainment. He has another girl massaging him tonight, her tiny emerald-green dress matching the gem-toned streaks in her otherwise dark hair.
The air is thick with smoke as Jae-hyun alternates between a cigar and his glass of soju. He’s more bleary-eyed than the last time I saw him, shooting me a grin as I enter.
“Ya, Jin-tae! Finally you show your face,” he bellows louder than necessary. “Come in, come in! Sit your uptight ass down and drink with me.”
He gestures to the coffee table where a bottle of soju waits—and beside it, a long case of Cuban cigars.
“I had them flown in,” he boasts, winking at me. “Cost twenty million won for the case. Importing fees and all that shit. But worth every won. You ever had a real Cuban, eh?”
I take the bottle of soju and pour myself a glass instead. “I’ll pass on the cigar.”
“Tch, your loss,” he grumbles, tossing back more soju.
I remain standing as Jae-hyun alternates between the clear alcohol and the cigar he’s puffing on. A beat of silence passes between us, filled only by the fake moans from the porn actress. She never shuts up.
Tolerance low for this environment, I prompt him along by mentioning the update he requested.
“You wanted an update on the gambling debts.”
Jae-hyun grins wide, showing off a mouth of crooked, crowded teeth. “Always so damn proper, Jin-tae. One day I will get you to loosen up. Go on. Tell me what you’ve collected.”
“We’ve settled them all except one. My enforcers tracked down the highest offenders.”
“You mean the fool who tried to run? What’s his name… uh…”
“Shin Dae-il.”
“Tch, yes! That asshole tried to board the KTX out of town like a coward. He thought we wouldn’t notice? Tell me you severed the bastard’s toe.”
“Three of them,” I correct. “He has five days to come up with the other sixty-seven-million won. Or the rest go too.”
Jae-hyun bursts into abrasive laughter so loud that it startles the girl massaging his shoulders. He and the porn actress should compete for most theatrical performance the way he laughs ’til his face is red and smacks his hand down on the table, making his glass jump.
“HA, HA, HA!” he laughs, practically choking on his own spit. “That’s the Baekho way. Make them crawl, Jin-tae. Make them suffer.”
I remain silent and disciplined, showing no reaction to his outburst. I haven’t even sipped on his stupid soju.
If the code of the Baekho Pa meant nothing to me, I would’ve run Jae-hyun through with my knife a long time ago for his sheer stupidity.
Nothing angers me faster than a person who basks in being loud and dumb. Two descriptors that fit Jae-hyun well.
But though I am a ruthless gangster, a killer with no mercy and no heart, I am a man of honor. I value the oath I took when I was initiated into the Baekho, and I will die by the vow I made to always adhere by it.
Jae-hyun is slovenly, undignified, stupid, and a slave to his vices. But he is also Baekho-je, which means he is the head of the brotherhood.
When he finally grows tired of his theatrical laughter, he settles down long enough to puff more on his cigar.
“And what about the girl?” he asks.
My spine stiffens. I keep my expression ambiguous, eyes cold. “She’s still alive for now.”
“She’s still breathing? Why?!”
“Her mother is visiting from America.”
He scoffs, then leans back in his chair, the cigar smoke clouding around him. “So?”
“It complicates the situation. They spend all their time together. If I kill one, I would have to kill the other. It would increase our chances that someone might come looking for them.”
“Handle the girl,” he says stubbornly. “And the mother.”
I bite down hard on my jaw, offering no reply.
“You hesitate again,” he slurs, leaning forward and resting his elbow on his knee. He points at me with the fingers holding his cigar, his eyes blearier than ever. “I’ll find someone who won’t, Jin-tae. Seung-min would have it done in a few hours.”
The words land with a weight of finality.
Jae-hyun may be drunk and foolish, but he’s serious at this moment.
I give a small nod and then see myself out of his office.
It’s the only reaction I can give that doesn’t result in me unleashing what I truly want to do. It would be deeply satisfying to run him through with my blade and watch the drunken cockiness drain from his face.
Remind him that he forgets who I am. I’m no errand boy to be threatened and intimidated.
I climbed to the rank of Ho-gwi by being ruthless and fearsome. I always finish what I start, and I always win in the end.
If Jae-hyun wants Monroe dead, then I’ll kill her.
But not because I respect him. Because it’s the way of the Baekho Pa.
Monroe and her mother start the week at Gukje Market.
It’s Monday afternoon when I pick them out of the crowd. The stalls are packed with tourists and ajummas alike, bartering for sandals, knockoff purses and perfumes, and cheap produce.
Everywhere you go, you pick up on smells like fried batter and exhaust from the delivery trucks.
Monroe walks with her arm linked with her mother’s. She points out things of interest to her, the two chatty and jovial.
Her curls look like miniature springs, worn in not one afro puff today but two. One on each side of her head.
Normally I would think this style is childish, like a woman wearing pigtails.
Yet somehow Monroe makes it work. She gives effortless and happy energy in her sundress and big sunglasses.
Her mother can’t stop laughing at the quips she makes. They share a similar laugh.
It’s admittedly an infectious sound, like birdsong that grows on you against your will.
At one stall, she holds up a polka dot suit jacket with wide eyes and a dramatic face. Her mother doubles over with laughter, wheezing in a napkin she’d been using for some Dalgona honeycomb candy.
It’s a stupid joke between them. Something about an uncle of hers with flashy, gaudy style.
But as the women bask in their amusement, I can’t help noticing how it’s yet another sign of their bond. The kind of mother/daughter relationship many would pine for.
I also notice, not for the first time, that Monroe Ross is probably a woman many men go to great lengths to make laugh.
Her whole face comes alive when she does—her large, expressive eyes narrow, her cheeks rounding and her tongue sticking out between her teeth. It’s such a unique manner of laughing that it feels earnest. It’s a look most men would probably enjoy earning from of her.
You would never know she’s troubled in these moments.
She’s merely being herself. A woman who is positive and happy by nature, even if life has sought to steal these things away.
Men like me have preyed on her like we tend to do. If I had a heart, any concept of mercy, it would make me feel sorry for her. Instead, I’m reminded how these traits of hers are ultimately a weakness.
Only the strong survive. Those who are weak eventually get eliminated.
It might as well be me who does it.
On Tuesday, the mother/daughter duo take a cab across the city to Gamcheon Culture Village.
I’m out of their sight, just close enough that I can surveil them through the maze of pastel buildings and winding streets.
They stop at every mural. Her mother makes Monroe pose with a painted pair of angel wings, then drags her to a blue staircase with flowers spilling down the rails. Monroe obliges, rolling her eyes in that half fond, half resigned way adult children do when they still love their parents.
Once her mother finishes taking a dozen near identical photos of her at the stairs, Monroe insists she joins her.
It becomes a photoshoot for them as eventually a fellow tourist offers to take both their photos.