Taesung
After training, I'm starving and devour three steaming bowls of rabboki. The others stare at me in disbelief as I eat, wondering how someone of my weight and appearance can consume such a large portion of food. I'm thin, but strong and fit.
After a hard workout, every bite feels like a small reward, a return to reality after several hours in which my world shrank to nothing but punches, sweat and muscle pain.
Hyunjin doesn't eat lunch with us. He locks himself in his dark, quiet study and devotes himself to his secret mafia business. Yet I sense his presence even when he's not in the room. I feel as though his invisible footprint has remained here. It's a calm that is not calm at all.
„Excellent," I blurt out, slurping up the last of the spicy noodles from the third bowl I've eaten for lunch. I am accompanied by a sweetly satisfied burp. I wipe my shiny chin with a napkin and take a drink. I would love to have some soju right now, but I can't because of the upcoming shooting practice.
I never used to drink much alcohol, but soju changed my mind. I really liked it. It's 13% alcohol, but even after four bottles, I don't feel very drunk. My liver produces an excess of the enzyme that breaks down alcohol, so I find it harder to get drunk. I can drink as much as an average, overweight drinker without breaking a sweat.
Here, soju is much more than just a drink. It's a way for people to shake hands without words, to demonstrate trust and closeness. And I, a stranger from the other side of the world, am beginning to crave that connection more than I care to admit.
„I'm glad you like it, Taei." Taeju exhales a cloud of smoke and taps his cigarette into the overflowing ashtray. It's his fourth cigarette during the meal.
„Well, just between us bodyguards. What do you think of our boss?" Janil asks a rather personal question, which sends a chill down my spine because I'm not entirely comfortable with it. There is something curiously provocative in his voice.
I look at him, hoping he's joking, to see if he's serious. My cheeks flush and I feel myself burning up, but I can excuse myself by saying that I ate three bowls of spicy rabboki. Is he really asking me if I like Hyunjin?
„What do you mean?" I play it off, hoping he'll elaborate and clarify what he meant.
„Just what I asked." He's serious. He really means it.
„Well," I begin, feeling cautious and uncertain. What am I supposed to say? That his presence is strangely pleasant, yet also makes me nervous? Or that I don't identify as gay or bisexual, but when I look at shirtless Hyunjin, I forget to breathe? „He's not exactly my type, but he's handsome," I reply, remembering how I almost fell down on the floor at first sight at him. I can appreciate someone's appearance, even if they're a man. But I've never been sexually attracted to men before. Is it different now? How can I tell?
This thought scares me more than I expected. Everything that's happening here is changing me — subtly, little by little. And somewhere at the back of my mind, I wonder if I even want to be the way I used to be.
„I meant his mood." He watches me, one eyebrow raised in amusement, waiting for my answer. I knew he wasn't serious. I fucked up. What will they think of me now? That I like Hyunjin? That I want him? Or that I've been trying to sleep with him the whole time? What the fuck am I going to do?
„He's behaving acceptably for his position," I say. I can't say he's acting like a cock, even if he is. He's a mobster — they're not expected to behave any differently. Hanil and Janil literally burst out laughing. At least I entertained them.
Their laughter echoes around the room, and for a moment, everything seems almost normal — like an ordinary lunch among friends. But underneath it all, I feel uneasy. It's as if this family atmosphere is just a mask hiding something much darker.
„That's enough. He hasn't been here long enough for you to make fun of him." Taeju silences the Kangs's brothers and stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray. As he does so, his sleeve slips back to reveal a tattoo on his wrist. A small, ordinary infinity symbol.
„Does it mean anything?" I point at his hand with my chopsticks. Taeju looks at the Kang brothers, his expression is impossible to describe. I notice that his left eyebrow, which has a piercing, moves. This makes me think that it looks quite good, and that maybe I'll get my eyebrow pierced to match my ear piercing.
„There could be several meanings, but I'll tell you the one that made us get these tattoos."
„Us? Get them?" My questions are immediately answered when the Kang brothers roll up their sleeves to reveal small, identical black infinity symbols on their wrists.
„This tattoo symbolises our infinite and unwavering loyalty to protect our boss until death. It signifies our eternal bond to the mafia, our lives revolving in an endless cycle of fighting, blood and death with no escape, and the irreversible path we have chosen. It symbolises that the members of the security detail are forever connected to each other. Even if one of us dies, the organisation and its spirit will live on." I hang on his every word. If I had it done, this tattoo would have meaning for me.
Its placement on the wrist provides a constant and silent reminder of the promise that those who wear it have made to each other. Given its proximity to the pulse, it could also be interpreted to mean that as long as my heart beats, I belong to the Mafia.
It's strange — the idea of committing my life to the organisation that forced me here would have terrified me before. But now, it awakens something else in me. The feeling that, even if it's hell, at least here I belong somewhere.
„I want one too," I whisper, running my finger over Taejo's tattoo. His skin is warm and rough to the touch, and surprisingly human. The longer I'm here, the more I find myself falling for it all. Just this morning, I was complaining about the butterfly tattoo on my neck and saying that I wouldn't let anyone disfigure my body with another useless tattoo. And now I want one?
„Just say the word. You can have it by tonight." I swallow and nod. I look at my own empty wrist. It throbs slightly under my skin as if it were already waiting for ink.
I have a strange vision of Hyunjin, sitting quietly with a lit cigarette in the corner of his mouth, looking at a freshly made tattoo that signifies loyalty. Not to the mafia. To him. The idea both scares and warms me at the same time.
By evening, there will be a tattoo on my wrist that holds personal meaning for me.
... ༺༻ ...
BLOOD DEBT (피의 빚)