Chapter 11 Jin #2
It took weeks of planning. Weeks of coordination to get the next shipment into the country undetected.
“How?” I grit out. “How did this happen?”
“I don’t know yet. We’re still gathering—”
“I’m surrounded by incompetence!” I snap suddenly. “This was a standard shipment! A routine operation! Yet you allowed a smaller, weaker gang to destroy it? To assert dominance over us?”
“Jin-tae—”
“Find the Bulgeomhoe boat. Find the bastards who did this. Slaughter them all. I don’t want to hear from you again until it’s done. Should you fail, you will be the one suffering the consequences.”
I hang up before he can respond.
Silence returns to the car, except even heavier and tenser than before. Min-gyu keeps his eyes forward, wisely choosing not to speak.
I’m left puzzling over the information I’ve received. It seems this could be by design from the Bulgeomhoe.
It’s possible there is no Black Shell at all. It’s nothing more than a misdirection from the pesky smaller gang as they wage this war and play mind games.
Whatever the case, I’ve had enough. It’s time to squash every last one of them.
No more warnings or messages. The violent payback will speak for us.
My terrible luck continues as we reach Busan. The traffic is jammed even worse than usual. There’s been a huge accident that’s turned the highway into a parking lot, brake lights stretching as far as I can see.
I check my phone obsessively, watching the minutes tick by, my stomach tightening at the thought we’re cutting it close.
By the time we finally break free of the congestion, it’s obvious I’m not going to make it on time.
“Faster,” I say. “Disregard the speed limits if you have to.”
Min-gyu presses the gas, weaving through traffic to the frustration of the drivers he cuts off.
The hospital materializes ahead. As soon as Min-gyu’s pulling up along the curb, I’m out of the car, striding through the automatic doors and ignoring the nurse at the front desk who tries to intercept me.
“Sir, I need you to check in—”
I’m already past her, navigating the maze of corridors until I find the room number Monroe texted me earlier.
I push through the door just as Dr. Gong is speaking.
“—and your next appointment will be in two weeks. We’ll monitor the baby’s growth and make sure everything continues to progress normally.”
The petite doctor turns at my entrance, offering a polite smile. Monroe doesn’t look at me at all.
Her disappointment is a palpable energy in the room. It’s heavy and unsettling and immediately makes me feel twice as guilty as I already do.
“Mr. Seo,” Dr. Gong says, offering her hand for a shake. “Congratulations. You’re having a boy.”
A boy.
We’re having a boy?!
The news renders me speechless for a few seconds as I digest it. I’ve never been a joyous person, but in this moment, it fills me up.
The idea I’m about to be the father to a baby boy.
But when I turn to focus on Monroe, she’s still averting her gaze. Her brows are knitted, and her lips are arranged in a vague frown.
“I gave some sonogram pictures to Monroe for you to take home,” Dr. Gong adds. “I’ll give you two a moment.”
She slips out, leaving us alone.
Monroe pushes herself off the exam table, ignoring my hand when I reach out to help her. She pulls on her cardigan, each movement of hers sharp and jerky. Then she grabs her purse and heads for the door as if I’m invisible.
“Tokki-ya—”
“Jin, I really don’t want to hear the excuse. You promised.”
I follow her through the hospital, surprised by her quick pace despite her much shorter legs.
“But it really was out of my hands. The traffic—”
“I’m sure, Jin. There’s always something,” she says, sighing. “How many excuses am I supposed to accept?”
“I had to follow a lead against an enemy. The Bulgeomhoe—”
“Like I said, always something,” she cuts off.
The automatic doors slide open for us as we step into the gray afternoon.
“My concern is that whatever’s going on with the Baekho always seems to come first. What if I had an emergency? Would you be able to make it on time?”
“How can you ask me that? I would drop everything.”
“I know you’d want to, but could you even? With the way things are—how dangerous they get.”
I grab her arm to stop her, noticing how bright her dark eyes have become due to unshed tears. I hold her gaze as I make it clear where I stand.
“Listen to me, Tokki-ya,” I say. “You and the baby come first. Always. No matter what I have to do to make it to you, you will always be my priority.”
“I believe you,” she whispers, casting her eyes downward and swallowing hard. “It’s just…”
She trails off, and we don’t get to finish before Min-gyu’s pulling the car around. We climb into the back seat in tense silence. He keeps his focus fixed on the road, studiously pretending he can’t hear us.
“I’ll make it up to you,” I say quietly.
Monroe lets out a small laugh that edges on being a little bitter sounding. “So you’ve told me, Jin. Why can’t you cut back? Delegate more? You’re the boss now—can’t you let your men handle more things?”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Why not?”
Admittedly, I don’t have a good answer. I’ve certainly remained more hands on than Jae-hyun ever was, and the Baekho-je before him as well.
But the Baekho Pa requires my constant attention, and now that we’re in the thick of our conflict with the Bulgeomhoe and this mysterious Black Shell, I can’t back off now.
The rest of the drive home passes in silence.
When we finally pull up to our building, I help Monroe out of the car despite her protests. I open doors for her and guide her with a hand on her back.
All small gestures that feel inadequate in the face of how badly I’ve failed her.
We’re in the elevator when she sighs, some of the tension draining from her shoulders.
“Maybe I’m overreacting,” she admits. “The pregnancy hormones have been... a lot. It’s just that I was really looking forward to sharing that moment together. As a couple.”
“I know, Tokki-ya,” I say, taking her hand in mine. She allows me to, unlike at the hospital. “I fucked up. I’ll be more present for your appointments from now on. I will clear entire days for them if I have to.”
She nods, quiet for a moment longer. Then she reaches into her purse and pulls out a small photograph, holding it up for me to see.
“Our boy is bigger than a pomegranate now,” she says, a small smile tugging at her lips. “He’s a sweet potato.”
I take the photo, staring at the grainy black-and-white image. My son is nothing more than a tiny, curved shape with the faint suggestion of limbs and a head.
But already he fills my heart with warmth and unconditional love.
I would truly go to the ends of the earth for him and Monroe.
The elevator doors slide open, and Monroe steps out first. Then she stops.
“Jin,” she says out of surprise. “There’re flowers in front of our door.”
I stride past her, my senses immediately on alert.
A large bouquet of blue flowers sits on our doorstep, placed gently as if delivered by professional florists.
As I pick the bouquet up off the floor, Monroe gasps. “Ooh, blue irises and white chrysanthemums! Some of my favorites. Who would’ve left them?”
“Don’t,” I interrupt as she reaches out for the small card attached to the blooms.
But it’s already too late; she’s pulled the card free, reading it aloud.
“Seo Jin-tae and Monroe. Congratulations on the baby boy. Wishing you a happy and safe pregnancy.” She frowns, turning the card over. “It’s signed by someone named… Black Shell?”
She looks up at me, confusion written across her face.
“Jin? Who is Black Shell?”
I offer no response as I stare at the card in her hand, realizing with dawning horror that this enemy is far more sinister than I ever anticipated.
He knows where we live. He somehow knows about the baby.
…about the fact that we’re having a boy.
He’s watching, and he very clearly wants me to know that he is.