2. New Mission #5
Eerie moans escaped the man’s lips. Taekjoo frowned. The muscles on his back felt like they had frozen. He couldn’t bring himself to turn his face and see to whom the monstrous hand belonged. It was not a matter of courage. It was a matter of instinct. He couldn’t even breathe right.
The arm resembled a tower crane, and the owner of the limb didn’t drag the situation any longer.
He flicked off the man dangling from his fingers like he was shaking off a strand of hair stuck in his hand.
Not an ounce of hesitation was present in his movement.
With that, the man dropped, and a loud thump followed.
The only one left was Kwon Taekjoo—two, including the mysterious murder fiend.
Taekjoo didn’t have to turn around and look to know that he was within reach of the monster.
All the unknown man had to do was reach out, and he’d have Taekjoo in his grip.
Taekjoo could feel a damp and murky stare scanning his back.
It was the swamp-like gaze of a starved beast hunting its prey.
He had no proof, but Taekjoo was sure. It was the same presence he’d seen again and again while being abducted.
Taekjoo closed his eyes and opened them slowly.
He tried to calm himself down. His senses awakened one by one, returning to him after feeling like they’d been paralyzed.
And then, finally, he was able to perceive the being he’d kept missing.
The shadow that was far taller than him.
The scent so strong and suffocating that it almost desensitized his nose.
The icy aura that froze the air around him.
Taekjoo tightened his grip around the button in his hand.
The monster might be a killing fiend, but even he wouldn’t survive a bomb.
Because of the proximity, Taekjoo could lose a limb as well from the explosion.
But it was nothing compared to losing his head.
All he had to do was take the man by surprise.
Then, he needed to stuff the bomb into one of the holes in the face—eyes, nose, mouth—it didn’t matter as long as it was a bodily hole.
Taekjoo pulled himself together and quickly turned around.
However, before Taekjoo could even try, the hand with the button-bomb was seized.
The next moment, his vision was turned upside down.
Taekjoo hadn’t even processed what had happened.
His grip loosened from the confusion, letting the bomb slide off his hand.
Taekjoo clamped his eyes shut, anticipating horrific pain to immediately follow.
The explosion boomed from far below, followed by a wave of heat rising up the building.
And just like that, Taekjoo’s last resort was gone.
Taekjoo’s head touched the coarse cement floor.
The only thing in his upside-down view was a pair of long, straight legs.
At the end of them were pointy shoes made of crocodile leather.
Taekjoo recalled seeing the pair in a magazine sometime back.
Their shape had left an impression—sleek and smooth, like the animal they were made from.
The price was somewhere around fourteen thousand dollars.
It was a luxury that didn’t quite suit a killing maniac.
“I need something to wipe with. Do you mind?”
These were the first words he’d spoken. The voice was not as deep as Taekjoo had expected. It rather sounded young.
Anyway, what was he asking Taekjoo for? Obviously, he would need to wipe his hands.
They were no doubt soiled from popping a pair of eyeballs earlier.
Taekjoo had an idea why the man was asking him—he just refused to believe that was it.
No matter how thin and light his shirt was, it was the only piece of clothing he had on.
Without it, Taekjoo would freeze to death before the murderer could even touch him.
But the murderer in question seemed to have short patience. As Taekjoo kept ignoring him, a familiar texture pressed against his head. It was a Colt.
“...Shibal[4].”
Taekjoo cussed in Korean as he undid his buttons.
The killer was holding onto his right arm, so Taekjoo had to resort to using only his left.
It didn’t help that it was a new shirt, the buttonholes untamed and tight.
Taekjoo had just undone the second button when the maniac grabbed the neck of his shirt.
Taekjoo’s shirt was ripped away in an instant.
Brute strength popped the buttons, which hit Taekjoo’s jaw and cheeks.
Right after, something cold replaced the murderer’s hand wrapped around Taekjoo’s wrist.
Taekjoo pulled it, only to hear a clanging sound.
It was a pair of handcuffs. The other end had been fixed on a steel pipe.
Taekjoo’s head was still pointed downward.
The murderer’s shadow moved slowly, full of confidence. When the movement stopped, Taekjoo saw his shirt fall to the ground. It was stained with blood and other bodily fluids.
The monster inhaled deeply, then let out a breath that seemed to stretch even longer. He appeared to be smoking something. Along with the lazy breathing, the distinct scent of the man amplified.
The scent told Taekjoo it was no ordinary tobacco. It was richer, harsher, bitter to the bone. The unique scent was also damp, and the smoke hung thick and humid. What is that? Not long after, something blunt fell right before Taekjoo’s eyes. It was the butt of a handmade cigar.
Now that he was done smoking, the monster turned around right on the spot.
His straight legs began getting farther and farther from Taekjoo.
He headed straight toward the stairs. The man wasn’t planning on retrieving his handcuffs.
The man went down, and Taekjoo could see that he was very tall.
He was so tall that it took a while for the back of his head to come within Taekjoo’s sight as he stepped down the stairs. And that was it.
Taekjoo could no longer feel the murder fiend’s presence, and only then was he able to breathe.
His entire body went limp as it relaxed from the stiffening tension.
Finally, the monster was gone. Along with it, the eerie chill that had seemed almost unreal vanished.
It was replaced by the harsh cold of reality.
The cold was so ruthless that it didn’t even allow for goosebumps.
It felt as though his skin had frozen into one giant piece and had started cracking.
Goddammit, Taekjoo muttered, slapping the ground.
Soon, he heard a familiar sound in the distance, growing closer.
A police siren was approaching.
***
Taekjoo was held at the police station for quite some time. A passing officer handed him a thick blanket. It smelled moldy. Taekjoo wondered when it was last washed. However, the cold was seeping into his bones even with the heater on. He had to take it.
And so, Taekjoo wrapped himself in the blanket while staring down at his throbbing wrist. It was wrapped in a bandage, the monster’s handprint printed clearly underneath. Was it because Taekjoo was in shock? He didn’t feel any pain even while he was getting first aid treatment.
“Your wrist is dislocated, didn’t you feel the pain?” the paramedic asked. It was then that Taekjoo realized why he couldn’t feel his wrist. He wriggled the tip of his fingers, which peeked out from beneath the bandage.
Taekjoo couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe that he’d been kidnapped out of the blue.
But even more unbelievable was the monster of a killer who appeared out of nowhere, saved him, and then vanished back into thin air.
Could that really be called saving him? He took Taekjoo’s only piece of clothing, and he also broke Taekjoo’s wrist.
And had the police been even a bit late in their arrival, Taekjoo would’ve frozen to death in that spot.
Was the killer even a human? His grip was strong enough to injure a grown man’s wrist—his strength simply didn’t make sense.
If the victim had been someone else, someone with a weaker body that could be easily mangled, then a broken wrist wouldn’t have been so surprising.
But Taekjoo prided himself on his strong, almost stubborn body.
Just then, the officer handling Taekjoo’s case returned. The old chair under him creaked as soon as the officer took his seat.
“We suspect it was the doing of those who aren’t happy with the Gazprom deal. It is a project of an immense scale, after all. No wonder it sparked so much envy. I heard that the cash stake alone was in the millions?”
He spoke of the Gazprom deal as if it were some betting game.
Not really an ideal attitude for a civil servant.
And by the time the officer was talking about the projected revenue, his eyes were sparkling.
Taekjoo didn’t say anything. He simply stared at the clock on the wall.
All he wanted at the moment was to go to his hotel.
However, the officer in charge was very enthusiastic.
He moved on to bidding Taekjoo not to hold any grudges or prejudice against Russia, promising to catch whoever was behind this ruckus.
His superior, just returning from his break, asked the officer why Taekjoo was still in the station. Only then was Taekjoo released.
“Excuse me, but where’s my suitcase?”
“Oh, you mean the bag inside the kidnappers’ vehicle? It’s over there. We checked it for any bombs or GPS trackers. Just doing you a little favor, no need to thank us.”
It sounded like he wanted to be thanked.
Taekjoo simply nodded once and got up. Just like the officer’s words, the bag was sitting right before the door.
Taekjoo hurried to pick it up and left the office.
He went down the stairs, trying to think of a way to get to his hotel, when the officer earlier came after him.
Taekjoo ignored him, thinking he must have a business of his own to attend to.
But the officer kept following Taekjoo, maintaining the same distance.
In the end, Taekjoo had to stop and turn on the spot.
“Can I help—”
“They got you once. Who’s to say that they’re not coming after you again? And now that their comrades are dead, they might double down and take their revenge. I’ll escort you safely to your hotel.”
And he added the phrase that seemed almost habitual.
“Oh, no need to thank me at all.”
Right, he definitely wants to be thanked.
The officer didn’t even ask for Taekjoo’s consent.
Instead, he led the way, telling Taekjoo to follow him.
Unsolicited kindness was no different from rudeness.
However, at this moment, Taekjoo was Sakamoto Hiro.
He was a civilian who’d been kidnapped and had just gone through a life-threatening experience.