Chapter 15 Elise #2
The higher-ranking members in the Cheongryong visit regularly, partly for the atmosphere and attractive lounge girls, and partly for the chance to humiliate the grunts beneath them.
Our intel revealed it gives them the chance to get ridiculously drunk while they berate the lower-ranked men as they sing off-key into microphones.
It’s a tradition in the syndicate that’s seen as both hazing and harmless.
And I’m just one of the many girls working at the lounge the next time they turn up.
I spent three days planning tonight’s mission all on my own. After finally touching base with Director Hart, I was placed on unpaid administrative leave. The agency bought me a one-way ticket out of South Korea that I never took them up on.
I’ve decided tonight’s the night—I’m going to end the life of Rhee Tae-hwan, Four Horn Lieutenant and Dad’s former best friend.
The man who ended up betraying him. The man who I’ve fantasized about taking out.
The Cheongryong would be in sheer and utter disarray if Lieutenant Rhee was ever killed.
The mere thought makes my pulse thrum as I stand on the lounge floor in the sleek uniform.
A tight, pressed, white button-up shirt, bow tie, platform heels and charcoal-gray skirt that feels both revealing and proper at the same time.
But I’m strapped and armed in all the right places. I’m ready for what I have to do.
Lieutenant Rhee Tae-hwan and the other men in the syndicate arrive to much fanfare.
They sweep through the entrance like heroes returning from war, Lieutenant Rhee at the head of the formation, along with the other two lieutenants in attendance.
The entire posse has an arrogant air about them—shoulders back, voices loud, flashy designer clothes that cost more than most people have in their savings account.
The staff at Noir Norae treat them exactly like A-List celebrities, bowing and showering them with praise and adoration.
You’d think they were some big names in a K-Pop group or starred in some popular K-Drama.
But it dawns on me there’s no other choice. The Cheongryong rule with an iron fist, and anybody that doesn’t get with the program will be made to.
The hostess leads them through the main floor toward the private rooms reserved just for them.
“I want the main room,” one of the other female servers named Chan-mi says. She’s practically bouncing on her feet at the chance. “Those lieutenants always pay well if you know how to smile pretty. Sometimes they even make you their mistress.”
“I’ll take it,” I say firmly, adjusting my grip on the serving tray. “You can work the smaller rooms tonight.”
Disappointment flashes across her features, but she doesn’t argue—probably figuring she can still score big with some of the other captains and soldiers..
I grab the tray laden with premium soju bottles and crystal glasses and make my way toward the private room where Rhee Tae-hwan and his inner circle have settled in.
The space throbs with electric -blue lighting that transforms everyone into ethereal-looking creatures. Cigar smoke curls through the air like incense; the earthy smell pungent and inescapable.
The men drink like the alcohol is free and endless and they themselves have no physical limit. Their laughter booms over the sound system as they watch a young soldier on the stage absolutely butcher Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean”.
His voice cracks on the high notes while his superiors roar with laughter at his humiliation. He’s nothing but entertainment for them as one captain yells at him to do the moonwalk.
He’s so drunk that when he tries, he trips over himself and falls on his ass on stage.
More loud uproars of laughter fill the room.
I give no reaction either way, no choice but to wear my mask.
I’m deep undercover in a room full of men who would gladly kill me. I can’t give any indication I’m anything more than a server.
I strut through the room with the same magnetic confidence that had ensnared Gun that night at Eclipse, letting my natural charisma shine.
A small, demure smile graces my lips, and I maintain eye contact with any man whose gaze lingers on me.
I’m the intriguing and exotic lounge girl here to serve them.
Just another pretty girl tending to their needs.
As I carefully set the bottles down where three of the four lieutenants sit sprawled in their leather chairs, most barely acknowledge my presence beyond grabbing fresh glasses.
But Lieutenant Im’s rheumy eyes lock onto mine with uncomfortable intensity, recognition flickering in his drunken stare.
For a split second, I’m worried he recognizes me. He’s remembered that I’m the assassin who tried to shoot him just a couple weeks ago.
Then he makes a perverted kissy face at me that turns my stomach and confirms he doesn’t recognize me at all—he’s just shitfaced drunk.
Still, I force a sweet smile and play up the flirtation with a wink. I’m pretty sure he’s old enough not just to be my grandfather but great-grandfather.
It’s as I start to walk off that another guy—some mid-level captain—smacks my ass.
When I pause and turn for a glare at him, he merely grins wider.
“I like big booties,” he slurs, leaning back in his chair. “How much?”
My smile remains as I lean down close. “Way more than those five fingers are worth. You might want to keep them to yourself, or you might lose them.”
He chuckles uncomfortably, his expression shifting as if he’s wondering if he heard me correctly over the loud music and laughter.
It doesn’t matter either way. I meant what I said.
Over the next hour, I linger in the room, fulfilling whatever requests Lieutenant Rhee and his entourage have.
Refilling glasses. Delivering a selection of imported cigars. Even serving yangnyeom chicken, Korea’s sweet and spicy version of American fried chicken.
All while being grateful one person isn’t here tonight. If Gun had shown up, I would’ve been screwed.
It was a huge risk I took landing this job just so I could gain access to the Cheongryong when he knows my real identity.
He could blow my cover in less than five seconds.
On stage, two more soldiers have taken up the microphone. They sing Sonny and Cher’s “I Got You Babe”; the guy on the left draping a shirt over his head to mimic long hair.
Both their faces burn red from a mix of alcohol and embarrassment.
Their superiors egg them on with loud jeers.
Finally, Lieutenant Rhee pushes himself up from his chair and mentions to the others next to him he needs to take a piss.
I’m never more grateful for my ability to read lips than times like these.
He makes his way toward the door.
My pulse spikes with anticipation.
This is it. The moment. My moment.
I wait long enough for it not to be suspicious, then I slip out of the room after him.
The dimly lit corridor stretches on in front of me. I’m at the back of one end while Lieutenant Rhee is on the opposite side, rounding the corner.
The doors to private karaoke rooms line the hall as I trail in his wake, always cautious to remain at a sizable distance.
I’m coming up on the hall he’s turned down when he’s stepping through the door marked men’s restroom. Hesitating for half a second, I pray that no other man is inside.
If someone is, it would be an instant scene and my cover would be blown.
I slip inside so cautiously, I don’t make a sound. The door barely even opens. Just a narrow crack and I’m sneaking in.
Lieutenant Rhee is already in the middle stall. The room is otherwise empty, the only sound the trickling of his urination.
My heartbeat is out of control, pounding faster and faster as the moment looms close. Once I kill him, I’ll have to be quick making my escape.
No more than sixty seconds to make it out of the building.
I’ve already memorized every emergency exit in this building, and there’s one just two corridors down.
Lieutenant Rhee hums tunelessly as he relieves himself. The stream seems to go on forever—all those drinks finally taking their toll—and I shift my weight impatiently as precious seconds tick by.
Finally the sound stops, replaced by him blowing his nose.
I can’t help making a face of disgust as I’m forced to stand by and listen to it all.
He shuffles inside the stall, then flushes the toilet. I edge forward waiting for the second he walks out.
A firm hand clamps down on my shoulder to stop me.
Instinct responds defensively, driving me to slam my elbow into the mystery person’s ribs. He still doesn’t let go as he holds onto me and we tumble backward into the tiled bathroom wall.
We’re entangled as I wrench myself free and spin to face him.
The man’s tall and broad-shouldered, with a ski mask obscuring most of his face.
But his gleaming eyes instantly reveal exactly who it is.
Gun.
Here to once again foil my mission.
Neither of us get to react to the other. We’ve created enough noise to alert Lieutenant Rhee, who goes still in his stall before shouting, “Who’s there? Whose feet are those under the door?”
The lock clicks, and then a split second later he’s cursing in Korean and rounding the corner with his own weapon drawn. He fires wildly in our direction, screaming at the top of his lungs.
“Black suits! BLACK SUITS ARE HERE! CHEONGRYONG!”
Gun’s hand closes around mine like a vise. Suddenly we’re running, bursting from the restroom as doors to the private karaoke rooms begin opening and confused faces—drunken men and startled lounge girls—peer out to see what’s causing the commotion.
I try to wrench my arm from his grip, but he refuses to let go as we race toward the nearest emergency exit, bullets whizzing past our heads and shattering mirrors and glass sconces along the corridor walls.
Behind us, Lieutenant Rhee’s voice rises above the chaos, screaming at every soldier to kill us.
To do everything they can to ensure we don’t make it out alive.
Yet another assassination attempt gone awry. Yet another attempt thwarted by Rhee Gun-woo.
Now he’s the only thing standing between me and the retaliation his father screams about.