Chapter 18 Jin
I stand and admire the massacre around me.
Baekho Pa soldiers flooding the Bulgeomhoe clubhouse with weapons drawn, quickly overwhelming them and forcing them to their knees.
No time is wasted and no mercy is shown.
My men squeeze the triggers on their guns and use their blades to slit throats. One low-ranking Bulgeomhoe a few feet away from me collapses to the ground gurgling from his severed jugular, twitching as he dies.
This is the annihilation I promised. The reckoning I swore would come.
It’s what they asked for when they played with fire and refused to relent; when they continued antagonizing us even after the warnings I sent.
The main room of their clubhouse has gone from being full of men smoking and drinking the night away to a graveyard. The few who are still alive remain on their knees, awaiting their fate.
Their inevitable extinction.
Min-gyu drags the Bulgeomhoe’s leader to the center of the room and shoves him down before me.
Yun Gi-tae is a relatively young leader but the eldest son of the previous boss. He has tattoos all over and a wide, stocky body. He’s suffered a deep gash to the head yet his eyes still burn with defiance as he’s made to peer up at me.
More amusing than anything.
I have always enjoyed destroying the cocky ones over the cowards.
“Seo Jin-tae,” he spits, voice thickened by contempt. “You think this ends anything? Kill me and someone else will rise. The Bulgeomhoe is eternal. The Baekho Pa is not. Your empire will fall eventually.”
I crouch down so I’m level with him, resting my forearms on my knees and letting my favorite blade dangle loosely from my fingers.
This son of a bitch has not only been a thorn in my side for months, there’s a possibility he’s behind the Black Shell threat.
That that was all a ruse concocted by the Bulgeomhoe.
“I warned you,” I say calmly. “I told you not to fuck with the Baekho Pa. You were instructed not to encroach on our territory. Yet what did you do? You didn’t respect territory lines; you sabotaged our shipments. You even sent some masked nut job to threaten me.”
“The territory you have belongs to the Bulgeomhoe!” he counters boldly. “We were taking back what is rightfully ours! As for the masked figure? Sounds like you’ve made more enemies than you realize! Which means your days are numbered.”
“Stop talking,” I command. “I’ve heard enough of your smart mouth. You antagonized the wrong enemy, and now you will pay the price. It’s time for you to meet your ancestors.”
Gi-tae’s jaw clenches, but whatever retort he’s contemplating dies on his lips as I rise to my feet in one fluid motion and drive my steel blade into his skull.
He meets his end with a wet, meaty thunk, his final breath a sharp gasp. I raise my boot and shove him the rest of the way back by his shoulder.
My once clean blade now drips with his blood.
All while his remaining men are on their knees, forced to watch.
I hold it up to show it off, relishing what I’ve done. The fact that I’ve kept my promise like I swore I would. I’m about to issue my next command when one of the Bulgeomhoe members breaks free from his captor and throws himself at my feet.
Some middle-aged man, his face streaked with tears and snot as he clutches at my legs like a drowning man grasping for driftwood.
“Please,” he sobs brokenly. “Please, I’m begging you. My wife—she’s pregnant. We’re going to have a baby soon. Please don’t do this.”
Min-gyu and another soldier, Dong-woo, move to snatch him up, but I hold out my hand to stop them. This pathetic, blubbering man has caught my attention, and I want to address what he’s said.
I crouch back down in front of him like I had with Gi-tae and look him in the eye.
Wanting him to understand what I’m about to say; wanting him to know the cruel, harsh reality of this world.
“So was mine,” I say, the corner of my mouth twitching.
Shock flits across his features as it sinks in I have no mercy. His pleas mean nothing.
Standing back up, I nod my head at the remaining men on their knees. “Kill them all. No survivors. Then burn the place down to the ground.”
They’re my parting words as I turn and walk out of the clubhouse. Behind me, my men rush to make my orders happen, promptly shooting some of the men in the head and using their knives to gut others.
The flames and smoke come soon after, burning the Bulgeomhoe clubhouse down and leaving nothing but ashes once we’re done.
Whereas the Bulgeomhoe clubhouse was a bloody massacre, the atmosphere in the Claw Lounge tonight is leisurely and uneventful.
A few spare hubaes hang out at the bar area while another lieutenant talks up a waitress.
I’m still covered in blood.
Gi-tae’s, and the blood of a dozen other men who no longer draw breath.
It’s worn like decoration as I stride through the lounge and head up to the third floor. Rage still courses through me as I do.
Destroying the Bulgeomhoe isn’t enough. It’s not even close to being enough.
As I make it up the elevator and stalk down the hall, I realize nothing may ever be. There is no amount of violence that will ever sate the hunger inside me.
The bloodlust that’s been awakened only grows stronger and more insistent. It calls for more destruction and more pain.
More devastation.
I want the entire peninsula to burn. I want everyone to suffer like the precious things I tried to protect. For others to hurt the way they’ve been made to hurt.
My office door flies open, and I stop short at who I find inside.
Once again, Lieutenant Nam Joo-wan lounges in one of the leather chairs across from my desk, a glass of soju in his hand.
My fucking liquor. From my fucking minibar.
Again.
“Jin-tae,” he greets me, popping to his feet. He raises his glass in a mock toast. “I heard the operation against the Bulgeomhoe was a success. Congratulations are in order.”
I stare at him. Unblinking and stony-faced as my eyes darken and fresh rage pulses through me. Smarter men than Joo-wan would know to turn and walk the other way.
They would understand I’m in no mood for idiocy. Yet Joo-wan flashes his arrogant grin and continues.
“I have news on Black Shell. A man matching his description was spotted in Seoul earlier. He was outside some night club. He was wearing a mask similar to what you described, but then he disappeared into a crowd. We’re still tracking his movements, but—”
“You’re telling me,” I interrupt, “that your big update is Black Shell was seen in Seoul and then vanished into thin air? That you once again allowed him to slip through your fingers?”
Joo-wan’s grin falters, some of his smugness fading. “We’re working on it, Jin-tae. He’s proven difficult to—”
“Difficult.” I advance on him, each step slow and predatory, closing the distance between us until I’m close enough to make out the beads of sweat along his slicked-back hairline.
“You’ve had a crew of men, you imbecile.
Plenty of time and manpower to find me anything useful, and this is what you bring me?
A sighting in a crowded district and a trail that’s already gone cold? ”
“I assure you, my crew is doing everything they can—”
“Are they?” I growl into his face. “Or are you undermining this syndicate from within while I’m distracted by grief?”
“What?” he croaks, eyes going wide. “No, I would never—”
“I already fucking told you not to touch my alcohol!” I yell in interruption.
My hand flies out and I smack the glass out of his grip, sending it shattering to the floor.
Then my hand’s shooting toward him, clenching shut on his throat and dragging his face toward mine.
“Do I need to chop your fucking hand off for you to understand? Is that what it’s going to take for my words to penetrate that thick skull of yours? ”
The smug grin has vanished entirely off his face, replaced by clear fear and intimidation. The look of a man who’s realized he’s poked a tiger whose cage door is now unlocked.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” he stammers. “I-I didn’t think—”
“This is your final warning.” I release him with a shove that sends him stumbling backward into the chair, nearly toppling it. “Get out of my fucking sight. The next time you fumble a task I give you, don’t expect to live much longer.”
Joo-wan straightens up, his hair no longer perfectly slicked as it falls into his pale face. It’s the most startled and humiliated he’s ever looked.
For a moment it seems he wants to say more. Maybe defend himself. Then he thinks better of it, simply giving a stiff nod and rushing out of the office.
I glare after him, hands clenched at my sides. More rage churns inside me, demanding I break something or hurt someone.
That I cause more harm than I already have tonight.
All intense urges and impulses that have been plaguing me for weeks now.
Ever since… I lost the only two things that mattered.
Instead, I stride over to the minibar and pour myself a rare drink. Liquor has never been an indulgence of mine, having always prided myself on being too disciplined to dabble for long, but the moment calls for it.
The soju is bitter and strong on my tongue as I gulp the whole glass down at once.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, notifying me I’ve received a message. I pull it out to find a text from Sang-cheol waiting on the screen, simple and direct.
Your person of interest is home.
I pour myself another glass of soju and down that too. Then I head toward the door, doing what I’ve done every night for weeks now.
The city is asleep, but it’s calming for someone who has burned with as much intensity as I have. I’m a shadow among the many other shadows on the dark streets.
Unseen and unknown as I move.
It’s late, well past midnight, and the neighborhoods I pass through have gone quiet and still—shuttered shops and darkened windows and only the occasional car coasting by. Stray cats come out in alleyways and pick at the garbage overflowing from dumpsters.
I turn off the main road and cut through a side street. I come out on the other side in front of a large concrete building that’s ten stories high.
It’s unremarkable and modest, with dozens of windows and AC units protruding from the walls. Most of the residents living inside are already fast asleep for the night.
Except for one window on the ninth floor. That window glows a soft golden hue, telling me that, once again, like most nights, she’s awake.
My dark gaze lingers on her window as if I can see through walls. I can see her lying in her bedroom like I’ve done so many times before when watching her.
The truth is simple, and a reality I can’t deny.
I can’t stay away from her. I’ve tried and failed and fought it hard. Yet I wind up in the same place each time.
Outside her bedroom window watching. Thinking about her.
Remembering what it was like when we were happy and our son was still alive.
Times that will never come back and can’t be undone. But my heart—however black and cold and shriveled it’s become—still seeks her out.
It still beats inside my chest as if for her.
I pushed her away because she deserves better than a fucked up bastard like me. She deserves to be unburdened from a man who will only cause her pain and only ever bring harm to her doorstep.
No matter what, I will always be the killer I am. The gangster with a past that will haunt him forever.
If she stayed, she would wind up dead. Sooner or later, it would happen, and the mere thought of it is something I can’t fathom.
So if it comes down to it, it’s more important that she’s alive and breathing. She’s safe and far away from me. Even if it causes us both pain.
My Tokki-ya. My little rabbit.
Hours pass, and I remain where I am, lurking in the shadows outside her window. I stay so long eventually the glowing light from her window goes dark, Monroe none the wiser that I’ve been here all along.
It’s better this way.