Chapter 27 Jin
For thirty years, Noh Myeong-su held his grudge. The revenge he had sought was left unsated the night he slaughtered my family. But he never gave up hope that one day he would get to finish what he started.
Put an end to Seo Jung-hoon’s bloodline.
My father.
It all came down to the night on the cliffs—two men fighting in the pouring rain, one of them destined to die.
Myeong-su meant for it to be me. For me to be the one who perished. Instead, he was defeated once and for all.
He died with his revenge left forever incomplete. The Seo bloodline lives on.
I’m still breathing and he’s rotting in hell with the knowledge that I won. He lost and it was all for nothing.
In the aftermath of what’s been the most difficult period of my life, it provides some satisfaction. Though not nearly enough for what I’ve lost.
Even for the injuries I’ve sustained despite surviving. They’re serious enough to keep me hospitalized for days. An unusual experience for a man who typically stitches his own wounds and pushes through pain that would put lesser men on their backs.
But even I had to admit the damage was too extensive to ignore. Several broken ribs make breathing an agonizing exercise. A stab wound to the chest missed my heart by centimeters, a fact the doctors remind me of every time they check my vitals, vaguely amazed I’m still alive.
My cheekbone is shattered, the left side of my face swollen and bruised in ever-evolving colors that change by the day.
My shoulder was dislocated during the fight and had to be reset, leaving my arm in a sling that makes even the most basic daily tasks grueling.
Multiple slash wounds decorate my side, arm, and back from when Myeong-su pulled a blade midway through our confrontation, each one stitched and bandaged and throbbing from residual pain.
And my toes—three of them broke from the impact of diving off the cliff into the churning sea below. At the time, I had been so desperate to save Monroe that none of these injuries even registered.
So when the doctors insisted I stay, for once I didn’t argue.
I wasn’t alone in sustaining serious injuries and cheating death by the skin of my teeth.
Sang-cheol survived his stab wounds and has been discharged, though it was only after emergency treatment and surgery.
Monroe’s friends—fellow teacher Kelly and her lab tech boyfriend Hyun-woo—also pulled through, though both suffered serious traumatic injuries that will take months to heal from.
I’ve been told they’re recovering well, and that they’re expected to make full recoveries.
I’ve only met Kelly a handful of times, and I’ve only heard about Hyun-woo in passing, but I find myself grateful that Myeong-su once again failed at his mission.
Most of all, his ultimate goal to end Monroe’s life. Like me and the others, she has thankfully survived. A relief that still makes me lightheaded.
Her injuries required a stay in the hospital as well, though her room was on a different floor and I haven’t seen her since that night on the cliffs.
Nearly drowning did a number on her system, from the significant amount of seawater she swallowed to the fact that she stopped breathing entirely at one point.
It was the moment I had thought I’d lost her for good.
I hauled her to the rocky shore and performed CPR as rain poured down around us and I desperately breathed air into her lungs.
When she jerked awake, gasping and coughing up seawater, I barely remembered to breathe myself. I was so damn relieved to see her large brown eyes meet mine after worrying they never would again that I couldn’t move for the seconds that followed.
I was in a state of total shock.
Days later, I’m still shocked to have been so fortunate. Things could’ve ended far worse than they have.
There’s a quick tap on the door as my assigned nurse breezes into the hospital room. She’s an older round woman with silvery hair and a no-nonsense attitude. She crosses the room and sets down my lunch tray on the rolling table beside my bed.
“Lunch time, Jin-tae,” she says in Hangugeo. “Jello and broth today.”
I scowl, immediately disgruntled. “Isn’t that every day I’ve been here?”
“I don’t want to hear any complaints,” she answers loftily. “With all the injuries you have, you’re lucky to be alive. You should be grateful for the broth.”
“I was stabbed a few times. My digestive system wasn’t destroyed. Give me some japchae and I’ll be fine.”
She merely shakes her head like a mother denying their child dessert, then marches out the room as abruptly as she appeared.
My scowl remains even after she’s gone.
I’m a man who eats real food, like grilled meat and hearty stews. Meals that actually sustain a toned physique like mine. Not this hospital slop designed for invalids and the elderly.
Lucky for her, I’m too tired to argue, so I just grunt to myself and pick up the bowl with the broth, draining it in several long, greedy gulps. It’s warm and salty and completely unsatisfying, but at least it’s better than nothing.
It’s only once I move onto the Jello that I realize the nurse didn’t leave me a utensil.
I consider pressing the call button until I remember it hasn’t been working. Dead or broken, or maybe they disabled it to prevent my complaints.
Every doctor and nurse on this floor has made it abundantly clear I’m not supposed to be walking right now, but I’m also not going to lie here staring at a cup of Jello I can’t eat.
Pain radiates up my side and through the rest of my body as I pull myself out of bed and start hobbling toward the doorway. Even my toes ache from the pressure that I accidentally apply to them.
Unfortunately, I’m too stubborn to quit, pushing on until I make it to the doorway.
It’s a chance moment. Some would say a sign.
As I’m about to call out to the nurse down the corridor, my gaze lands on a mother and daughter duo standing at the counter of the nurse’s desk.
Monroe’s with her mother, Daisha, as they fill out paperwork on a clipboard.
Even from afar, I can tell my rabbit isn’t yet herself.
She’s wearing normal clothes instead of the standard hospital gown, but she doesn’t carry the usual healthy glow she’d normally have.
She has a cast on her right wrist that peeks out from the sleeve of her sweater and makes it much more difficult for her to write.
She’s obviously being discharged. She’s leaving the hospital.
I don’t realize I’m frozen in the doorway and staring until Daisha happens to look up.
She glances over to the corridor on their left and instantly notices the unruly haired, tattooed Korean man in a hospital gown gawking at her and her daughter.
Recognition gleams in her eyes and softens her expression as she gives me what can only be described as a sympathetic look.
It’s as she does that Monroe senses something has caught her mother’s attention. She’s much more startled to find me staring, her eyes widening and lashes fluttering from the long, slow blink she takes.
A second goes by with us staring at each other from across the hospital ward as if we’re rooted in place and an invisible wall separates us.
My heart beats twice as fast as I falter on what to do or how to respond. The Great Silent Hunter who is normally so confident it borders on cocky.
Fuck the Jello. I’m not hungry anymore.
I turn my back and retreat into my room, lamenting my inability to do what I truly want. It’s a paradox I don’t fucking understand—how I can so desperately want and need my rabbit but find myself trapped behind the wall I’ve erected?
The same wall that allowed me to become the man I am today. The orphan boy who transformed into the sharp, disciplined gangster ruling the Baekho Pa.
I climb back into bed with ribs aching and what’s unmistakably nerves heavy in my otherwise empty stomach.
I’ve only settled in against the pillows when there’s a tap at my door.
Daisha enters first, closely followed by Monroe. If I thought I’d escaped the tense staredown in the corridor, I’m obviously proven wrong.
The pair have come to me. They immediately feel like the warmth I’ve been missing for so many weeks.
“Jin baby, we were actually just coming to see you,” Daisha says in her usual motherly tone. She produces a cluck of disapproval with her tongue. “What are you doing out of bed? I saw you standing in that doorway like you were about to take a stroll. You need to rest.”
She fusses over my pillows, adjusting them out of maternal instinct, and I let her because I don’t know what else to do. No one has fussed over me like this in thirty years. It’s disorienting and awkward and strangely comforting all at once.
“Do you need anything?” she continues, smoothing the blanket across my lap. “Water? Another pillow? I can go find a nurse if you need medication—”
“I’m fine, Daisha,” I cut in. “But thank you.”
She waves a hand. “More like I should be thanking you. You went through hell to save Moni. You have no idea how grateful I am. I don’t know what I would’ve done if...”
Her eyes begin to water with unshed tears, and the nerves in my stomach ripple even more intensely.
“She’s safe now,” I say tensely. “That’s all that matters.”
She nods, wiping at her eyes and then gently squeezing my arm. With a glance back at Monroe, she seems to realize we might need a moment alone.
“I’m going to go find some coffee,” she announces. “You two... take your time.”
She slips out of the room, pulling the door closed behind her. Suddenly, Monroe and I are alone in a space that feels more compact by the second.
The silence between us stretches on for a while. Neither one of us sure what to say.
Despite the many things on our minds, it’s so complex it feels like an impossible task.
“You… you look well, Tokki—Monroe.”
She almost smiles, the corner of her mouth quirking slightly. “I can’t lie and say the same, Jin. You’re looking rough right now.”