Chapter 30 Jin
Two Weeks Later…
The underground chamber in the Claw Lounge is silent as I stand in the center. I’ve called another meeting to address recent developments in the Baekho Pa. One of those is a failure of a hubae I had tasked with a very important job.
No one dares speak as Choi Woo-sik is called before the syndicate. He steps to the center of the chamber and his knees hit the floor before me.
The gathered lieutenants and captains collectively hold their breath, faces devoid of any real expression despite their apprehension. They remember all too well what happened to Nam Joo-wan only a few weeks ago. Likely still smell the stench of his burning flesh.
From the way Woo-sik trembles on his knees, he expects the same.
“Baekho-je,” he starts nervously, “I can explain—”
“Two billion won,” I interrupt, my tone grave. “Park Soo-han owed us two billion won in gambling debts, and you were tasked with collecting. A simple assignment for a man of your position.”
Woo-sik’s head bows lower, his forehead nearly touching the floor. “He ran, Baekho-je. He fled the country before I could—”
“I’m aware of what happened.” I regard Woo-sik sternly, giving no indication how I’ll handle the matter. No clue as to what punishment he can expect.
Several men in the chamber exchange quick glances, the tension rising in the large circular room. More seconds crawl by as I allow the uncertainty to spread.
I’ve already made up my mind, but I’m in no rush to end the suspense. Choi Woo-sik needs this moment to grasp the gravity of his failure.
When I look him in the eye and see regret shining in his gaze, I decide it’s time.
“What I want to know is what you intend to do about it.”
His brows furrow as he stares up at me as though questioning what he’s heard. I step closer, standing over him with my arms folded behind my back.
“The white tiger our brotherhood honors does not abandon his prey simply because it flees,” I say sagely. “He tracks it across mountains and rivers. Through forests and fields. However far and however long it takes. He knows that persistence and patience will always triumph over panic and haste.”
More confusion flickers across Woo-sik’s face. I can practically see the words turning over inside his head, the shock growing as he realizes what I’m saying.
“Park Soo-han has left South Korea. That does not mean he has escaped. It means the hunt has simply expanded beyond our borders.” I hold his gaze, ensuring he understands his new tasking.
How I’m entrusting him unlike he expected.
“You will find him. You will track him to whatever corner of the world he’s fled to, and you will bring back what he owes us—every last won.
In doing so, you will bring great pride to the Baekho Pa. ”
It’s almost comical how his eyes widen and his mouth gapes open. He was prepared to beg for his life, and instead I’m giving him a second chance.
“Do you believe you’re capable of that, Woo-sik?” I ask.
He nods so vigorously he’d snap his own neck if it was any harder. “Yes, yes. Of course, Baekho-je. I swear to you—I will bring honor and triumph to the Baekho Pa. I will not fail you again. I will make you proud.”
“Then go. Don’t return until the debt is collected.”
Woo-sik scrambles to his feet and bows deeply before backing out of the room and then breaking out into a run.
Surprise ripples through the chamber in his wake.
The assembled group of lieutenants, captains, and some soldiers are shocked to their core.
They expected brutality, and I gave them mercy instead.
Some of them don’t know what to make of it—I notice the confusion furrowing their brows.
Their uncertainty if their Baekho-je has gone soft.
But most others understand. As I turn and scan the room, I catch Do-gil’s eye. The potbellied lieutenant who challenged my fitness to lead just weeks ago, questioning if I’d lost my grip on sanity, gives a respectful nod. An acknowledgment that he realizes he was wrong.
I’m still sane. I’m still fit to lead.
“Dismissed,” I say to the chamber.
The men file out in orderly silence. All except Min-gyu, who lingers near the doorway until we’re alone, his expression thoughtful as he approaches.
“The others expected a much more severe punishment,” he says. “After what happened to Lieutenant Nam they thought...”
“I know what they thought. I considered it. Woo-sik’s failure was significant, and there was a time when I would have made an example of him without hesitation.”
“What changed?”
“I realized that cruelty is not always necessary,” I say. “Sometimes encouragement—and the drive to better oneself—is enough. In Woo-sik’s case, I believe it will be.”
Min-gyu considers this for a moment, then nods. “That’s wise of you, Baekho-je. Did Black Shell bring you to that realization? What he did, what he showed you about yourself?”
My mind lingers on Noh Myeong-su for a brief moment. The monster murdered my family when I was a child and then poisoned my son. He nearly took Monroe from me. All of this over the thirty-year grudge that consumed him until there was nothing left but hatred and the need for revenge.
“Not quite,” I say finally. “But someone else did.”
Min-gyu doesn’t get the opportunity to ask who. He simply nods as I stride out of the chamber and leave the Claw Lounge altogether.
The afternoon light is fading for dusk, and I have a little rabbit to go home to. No longer do I allow my work for the Baekho Pa to encroach on my private life.
That comes before all else these days.
The drive home gives me time to reflect, the familiar streets of Busan passing by outside the windows of my Genesis G80 as I navigate traffic.
Min-gyu might not have known who the person who changed my perspective was, but all that matters is I do.
Monroe has changed me.
Her love has healed wounds I didn’t even know I had, teaching me I could be more than the cold bastard I’d convinced myself I needed to be. I can still lead the Baekho Pa with discipline and strength, serving as the great Silent Hunter of Busan when the situation demands it.
But I don’t always have to be cruel. The darkness doesn’t need to consume me the way it consumed Myeong-su.
He truly allowed it to destroy him from the inside out.
If his story about my father was true, if Seo Jung-hoon really did betray the Hyeonmudan and cause the deaths of Myeong-su’s family, including his pregnant wife... then I understand his grief and rage.
I know what it feels like to lose an unborn child, your future ripped away from you by forces beyond your control.
But understanding doesn’t mean forgiveness. What Myeong-su did—turning his pain outward and making innocents suffer for his loss—was wrong. He traumatized a four-year-old boy and spent thirty years hunting him down.
His grief didn’t give him the right to create more grief. It was not his place to poison my son and terrorize the woman I love.
Human nature is messy and illogical sometimes. People do terrible things for understandable reasons, and the line between victim and villain is often thinner than we’d like to admit. Myeong-su crossed that line long ago, and in the end, he paid for it with his life.
But I don’t have to follow in his footsteps. I can break the cycle of all-consuming revenge that has defined so much of my existence.
I’ve already done so by choosing my love for my rabbit over all else.
The drive goes by quicker than expected. Seemingly within a blink of an eye, I’m pulling into the parking garage of the apartment I share with Monroe in Namcheon-dong.
Once I ride the elevator up, my mind has turned off any Baekho Pa related matters. I’m fully present mentally, focused on the beautiful, sweet woman waiting for me inside.
My wife. My home.
The savory aroma of cooking meat wafts through the air as I open the door. I wasn’t hungry before, but the rich and fragrant smells make me aware it’s almost dinner time.
Monroe is in the kitchen, moving between the stove and the counter with her usual frenetic energy that’s both amusing and impressive. She’s the most chaotic cook I’ve ever witnessed, yet somehow she always manages to put together delicious dishes.
If you were to ask her, she’d claim there’s a method to her madness.
Right now, she’s wiping her hands on a kitchen towel, tongue poked out as she reads from her tablet that’s propped up on the counter.
She nods as if reassuring herself she has the measurements correct, then darts to the other side of the kitchen to toss some onion and garlic powder into the pot on the stove.
My rabbit is always beautiful, but candid moments like this are some of my favorites—she’s got her natural curls tied up by a scarf so that it makes the shape of a pineapple, her brown skin luminous amid the steam from the stove.
Her features are as round and youthful as ever, giving her an innocent look only I know is not entirely true.
My rabbit isn’t as innocent as she looks.
Hearing my keys and footsteps, she looks up, and her eyes light up.
“Oh, you’re home!” she squeaks. “Great timing—dinner’s almost ready! I found this recipe on Pinterest, and I think it’s going to be so good!”
I cross to her and press a kiss to her forehead, breathing in the scent of her curls mixed with the warm spices of whatever she’s cooking. “It smells incredible. What is it?”
“It’s a surprise.” She swats at my hand when I try to peek into the pot on the stove. “Go sit down. I’ll bring everything out.”
“Let me help—”
“Jin. Go sit,” she says bossily. Her lips quirk from her temptation to laugh. “Let me handle it all for once, okay?”
Her tone rouses my suspicious nature. I pause slightly, trying to figure out what my wife has planned. But then I do as she asks and go to settle into a chair at the dining table.