Chapter 18 Gun #2
I go still mid-sip from my coffee mug. “So, in other words, me?”
“Yes… without realizing it obviously. I’ve given them a false lead though. Fed them intel the masked man she was with was that KD guy. Now they believe he’s the mastermind. The real culprit because of course a woman could never do such things on her own. Funny, right? Their own sexism blinds them.”
“That’s… that’s… genius, Joon-gi. Keep them on that false trail for as long as you can.”
“You owe me. If Elise has a sister or best friend, then send the cutie my way.”
“You might be waiting a long time. My sexy assassin isn’t a people person. She’d tell you herself.”
“She has to know other cute, sexy assassins she can hook me up with. Anyway, what about you? I’ve heard murmurs about your whereabouts. Lieutenant Ko has noticed you’ve pulled back. The bender excuse won’t work forever.”
“My crew is still running my operations just fine. We’ve made record profits this month with our weapons trade,” I answer perceptively.
I’ve pulled the milk from the refrigerator to pour some in my coffee and Elise’s.
She takes hers much lighter than I do. “So long as I’m bringing in money, they can’t complain. I’m fulfilling my Yongsa duties.”
“All for the sexy assassin.” Joon chuckles and shakes his head. “I want to be that in love someday.”
I ignore what he’s said, pivoting to another topic on my mind. “You have connections all over Seoul. There’s something special I want to do for my sexy assassin.”
“Name it.”
I glance toward the hall, checking to make sure Elise is still in the bathroom. “I need you to find me someone who can do home visits for a client.”
Our first Sunday afternoon in the loft is a lazy one that makes even someone as relentless as Elise slow down.
I’m stationed at the kitchen table with my laptop, scrolling through encrypted messages and syndicate intel while the afternoon light streaks through the long windows.
Elise moves through the space like she’s at ease, a head wrap securing her hair while she starts what she calls her Sunday rituals. It involves things like haircare, skincare, and giving her nails a touch up.
When she pads into the kitchen for a glass of water, barefoot and comfortable in a loose robe, I glance up from my screen.
“You need to relax and not do your own hair and nails,” I say, closing the laptop.
She pauses mid-sip, a quizzical look crossing her features. “I have to, otherwise I don’t feel like myself. I might work in a male-dominated field, but it doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy stuff like makeup and nails. It’s always been a nice escape actually.”
“I’ve noticed,” I reply, smirking.
But it’s true that I have—every small ritual, every frustrated touch to her scalp when her braids start fuzzing, every time she’s examined her chipped nails with a critical eye.
“But that’s not what I meant,” I go on. “You should let someone else take care of it for you while you relax.”
She scoffs like I’ve told a joke. “Pretty difficult these days. You know, part of the whole being hunted by the Blue Dragon Syndicate and all. I can barely show my face in public—”
A knock at the door interrupts the rest of her sentence.
Elise freezes like she’s been caught under a police searchlight. I rise from the chair at the kitchen table to go answer.
“That must be our special guests,” I say casually. “I’ll get it.”
I open the door to reveal two petite Korean women who bow respectfully before entering with fast footsteps like they’re already late. They’re carrying a large trunk of supplies between them.
Within seconds they’re transforming our living room into a makeshift salon—portable hair dryer, UV lamp for nails, adjustable stools, and an array of products that would make any beauty supply store jealous.
Elise watches in complete shock, her mouth agape and eyes rounder than usual. “What’s all this?”
I step toward her and press an affectionate kiss to her lips.
“I noticed how unhappy it makes you being unable to get your braids redone or your manicures and pedicures. So I arranged for some of the best in Seoul to come to you.” I gesture toward the women who are still setting up.
“These women do top-of-the-line work. And they do all hair textures.”
The shock on Elise’s face is beautiful—pure, unguarded amazement that softens her features and makes her look almost innocent.
She glances from me to the women arranging their tools with the kind of wonder that you’d see from a child on Christmas morning.
It suggests she’s not used to people paying attention to her needs, much less anticipating and acting on them.
“They can do jumbo box braids? Like the ones I have?”
“They do it all, Goyangi-ne. I made sure before I hired them.” I stroke her jaw, my hand traveling down the arc of her throat and across her shoulder. “Now you can get your hair and nails refreshed like you wanted.”
For a flicker of a second, it seems like she’s on the verge of tears—her eyes go glassy and her breath catches, making me feel even more protective of her.
But she blinks the emotion away quickly, always refusing to let vulnerability show for too long.
She instead loops an arm around my neck and gives me a deep, grateful kiss on the mouth.
“Thank you,” she murmurs against my lips. “How do you even notice these things?”
“I’ve picked up on it,” I say simply. “I spend a lot of time paying attention to you, feline. I have from the moment I first saw you at the nightclub.”
The transformation begins immediately.
Elise settles into the chair the stylists have prepared, and I watch as they begin the process of undoing her existing braids. Their hands are gentle and skillful as they work through each section.
One woman massages her hands and feet while the other detangles her hair.
I can’t help but notice how Elise’s entire body melts into the chair, more relaxed than I’ve ever seen her.
I turn on the TV and queue up Netflix, then bring her some of the leftover japchae I made yesterday, setting it within easy reach while she’s being pampered.
She looks like she’s in absolute heaven—eyes half closed, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth as skilled hands work magic on her stressed body.
Next they wash and dry her natural hair before beginning the braiding process. I’m struck by how beautiful she looks with her thick, textured hair loose around her shoulders, framing her face like a cloud.
Hours pass before the stylists finally finish her set of newly painted nails and box braids. I tip them generously and help pack up their supplies, walking them to the door to thank them one last time.
When we’re alone again for the first time in hours, Elise runs her hands over her fresh braids with obvious satisfaction, her burgundy nails shining and perfectly shaped.
“This just might be the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me,” she says with a small smile. “Thank you again, Gun.”
“So long as you feel better, Goyangi.”
She heads off to the bedroom and I return to my laptop to check if Joon’s sent me any more updates regarding the Cheongryong’s search.
I refresh the screen and find nothing new in my inbox.
They must still be following the KD lead, thinking he was the masked man at Noir Norae. The two of us do have similar builds—
“Gun!”
Elise is calling me from the bedroom. Her tone isn’t panicked or distressed, more so like she’s shocked by something and wants me to know whatever it is.
I head over to go see only to find Elise kneeling in front of the dresser drawers. The second to last drawer is pulled open and she’s clutching a stack of old photos.
At the sight of me, her eyelashes flutter in a long blink.
“I wanted to grab one of your t-shirts to put on, but I forgot which drawer you keep them in. Then I found this.”
I glance at what’s in her hands to see a photo of myself from twenty years ago. I’d forgotten about these old photos I’d stashed in there when I first acquired this loft.
Truthfully, I didn’t even bother looking through them. They technically belong to my father, and I only ended up with them when I cleared out an old family storage unit. They’re some of the only photos I have of my childhood…
I lean against the doorframe, hands in the pockets of my sweatpants. “Oh… those… what about them?”
“Gun,” Elise says slowly. “I think I’ve seen these before.”
“What do you mean you’ve seen them? They’re family photographs.”
She simply gasps as she shuffles the stack and comes across another that catches her eye.
“What?” I ask, taking a step into the room. “If it’s about my school photo—”
“This is my father. And your father. Pictured together. Look!”
Elise leaps to her feet and shoves the photo under my face.
The photo is so old it’s started to fade.
But there they are—my father, a Yongsa at the time, grinning jovially at the camera with a bottle of soju in his hand and his other arm tossed around a broad-shouldered Black man.
He looks equally as joyous. He’s also holding a soju bottle and laughing at whoever took the picture.
“This must’ve been before…” Elise trails off, her voice hollowed out by shock. “They must’ve been at some event. That’s my uncle in the background. Director Hart too before she ever started the agency and knew them from their military days. It looks like they were there that day too.”
I stare longer at the photo, recognizing many of the details. The background is familiar, the cherry wood and lacquered walls matching the scenery of Father’s old office at some Cheongryong lounge in Seoul.
When I was a boy, I spent a lot of time bored in that office. I had to sit and do my homework while my father conducted business. If I finished early, then he made me read from the Korean encyclopedia.
Sometimes for hours.
After a while, I’d only pretend to read. I’d really be eavesdropping, watching him bark orders at the Jeokpas under his command or sweet talk himself into a new advantageous business deal.
I looked up to him, even if he looked down on me.
I take the photo from Elise’s hands and study the smaller details like I’m in search of something.
The present suddenly blurs into the past.
I’m eight again, crouched under my father’s huge desk. My hands are pressed to my ears.
Two indistinct figures stand just out of focus. Their voices boom through the room, faces frustratingly unclear.
“If it’s not you, Tae,” one man bellows, “then who would it be? How could you let it go down like this?”
The other man—Appa—sounds just as furious. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
I wish they would just shut up. All their shouting makes me feel like my head might explode.
“You’ll regret this, Tae! You’ll regret the day you ever crossed me!”
I closed my eyes, not wanting to see anymore.
Gunshots erupt.
Bang bang.
The loudest sounds I’ve ever heard in my life. Then comes a grunt of pain as one of the men collapses…
My chest heaves as I’m jerked back to the present with violent force. The flashback has left my brain throbbing and heart racing.
I stand there paralyzed for a long moment, the old photograph still loosely in my grip.
Elise’s brows knit, a frown on her face. “Gun… Gun, what is it? Are you okay? Why are you suddenly so pale?”
I rub a hand over my face, trying to scrub away the shock from the memory. “You’re right, Goyangi. Everything you said was right. My father murdered yours. I remember because… I was there when it happened.”