Hyunjin
I can still feel the warmth of his lips on my cheek. It was such a brief touch that it should have been easy to forget. But I can't.
I'm standing in the gym with a sword in my hand and I can't move. I'm waiting to see if the door will open again and he'll come back. Silly. I'm allowing myself to be distracted by something that shouldn't matter.
But it does.
I know this because the corners of my mouth are turning up dangerously. I'm smiling, which doesn't happen often. That's exactly the problem. I can't let him mess with my head. Taesung isn't someone I should protect because of my feelings. And yet... I already know it's getting out of hand.
My heart skips a beat — it's a strange feeling.
I need to pull myself together, I can't afford to be distracted now, with the meeting with Mishimoto tomorrow. I need to be alert and on my toes.
I return the sword to its rack, then go to the bathroom to wash off the sweat. It's only when I come out again that I realise the only place I haven't washed is my face, where Taesung gave me a quick kiss a few minutes ago. I reach up to my face and caress the spot with my fingertips. A single word starts running through my head. Shibal, shibal, shibal.
... ༺༻ ...
I put on a dark suit, check my gun and load the pistol with a magazine. I call the Kang brothers and give them a brief overview of how I envisage today's meeting. Everything must appear routine, but it is not routine in my head. Knowing that I will meet Mishimoto today gives me a sharp focus.
Taesung enters the room, looking nervous but trying to hide it. I size him up. This is the first time I have seen him since yesterday's incident, and I immediately remember the warmth of his lips on my cheek. I shake my head to dispel these thoughts. I have no intention of reproaching him for his gesture. Instead, I speak to him kindly.
„Stay close to me today. Something tells me that today's meeting won't be easy. It's possible that Mishimoto will try to provoke you. Now that we know they were at your stepfather's house. Don't say anything until they ask you directly. I'm not going to forbid you from speaking, but I ask one thing of you. Before you say anything, think carefully about your answer. Do you understand?" I have a feeling that there's no need to appeal to him so much in this regard. Somehow, we have to build trust between us. I have to trust him, and he has to trust me.
He confirms this himself with the following words. Although I see fear in his eyes, there is also a lot of determination.
„There's nothing they can do to provoke me. As I said yesterday, Harris means nothing to me. I know which side I'm on." He rolls up the sleeves of his suit to reveal a small infinity tattoo on his wrist. It's a tattoo I've seen countless times before. A tattoo that everyone in my security detail has. It proves his loyalty to me right here and now. To me.
At that moment, I am overcome with an uncontrollable urge to tell him the truth. About yesterday. About what his fleeting kiss meant to me. But the door opens, interrupting my thoughts. The others are waiting and the car is ready. We don't have much time. So I briefly and firmly put my hand on his shoulder.
„I'll tell you after the meeting," I promise, knowing that I still have the courage to talk about it and that I am setting my own fate.
... ༺༻ ...
We drove to the meeting in three cars. I have no idea how many people Mishimoto might bring, so on the way to the agreed location, we stop in Songpa to pick up a few Saturnia gang members. There are ten of us in total. Each of us knows that this is not just a formal meeting — it's a test to see who has the upper hand in Seoul.
We arrive in Myeong-dong ten minutes early. The convoy turns into the underground car park of the Solaria Nishitetsu Hotel, where the only sounds are the hum of the ventilation system and the distant sound of footsteps. The metal gates slam shut behind us and, for a moment, I feel trapped.
We get out. Our heels and soles thud on the cold floor and the dim neon lights above us flicker. The men from Saturnia spread out around the cars as if the garage were already a battlefield. I stay at the front with Taeju. He walks silently, scanning the shadows out of the corner of his eye as if Mishimoto could send his people from somewhere where only the smell of petrol can be detected.
The lift takes us to the top floor. The steel doors open, and suddenly we are in another world. We are in a luxurious hotel lounge where subdued light falls on shiny wooden tables and paintings of Seoul at night hang on the walls. The air is sweet with the scent of expensive alcohol. The silence is broken only by the buzz of the city outside the windows. Below us, crowds of people flow by, unaware of anything. Up here, however, a different future is at stake.
Mishimoto is already waiting. He is sitting comfortably at the head of the table, with two of his bodyguards in black suits standing behind him, and the other five spread out around the room. We have the upper hand, I think to myself.
He looks as if he has been preparing for our arrival for hours, yet he appears calm and almost indifferent. However, his eyes flash for a moment when our gazes meet. This is no ordinary meeting — it's a game. I know that every move we make here could mean life or death.
Mishimoto slowly raises his glass of whisky, stretches his fingers and takes a leisurely sip. „Yoone," he says, addressing me in a smooth voice tinged with amusement. „You're right on time."
Without hesitation, I walk to the opposite side of the table, take off my jacket and casually drape it over the back of a chair. It's better to let him think he's in charge and has the upper hand today.
„Unlike some people, I know that time is the one thing no one can buy," I reply calmly, sitting down. A smirk appears on Mishimoto's lips, but his eyes flash.
„Clever. You've always had a gift for choosing your words well. I just hope they won't be of any use to you today other than to cover up your weakness."
I stare at him intently without blinking. „Weakness is when you need to show power so that others take you seriously. I'm fine just sitting here across from you."
Mishimoto puts down his glass and glances at Taesung, who is standing behind me on my right, as if savouring his presence. And I believe he is enjoying it. Anyway, it's all about that boy.
Taeju is standing to my left, with the Kang brothers behind him. The others have positioned themselves around the room to cover Mishimoto's people.
„And you," he says quietly, looking at Taesung. „Is this the boy who, not long ago, was serving lattes in a New York café? Tell me, what's it like? What's it like to suddenly find yourself at the heart of a game you didn't even know existed until recently?"
I turn my head slightly towards Taesung. „He's not part of our game. Besides, he doesn't understand you," I say coldly.
„But you're wrong, Yoone. He became part of the game the moment you pulled him in. From that moment on, he's caught in the same net as you. And you know that very well." The air in the lounge grows heavy. The words hang between us like a weapon, waiting for someone to dare use them.
... ༺༻ ...
BLOOD DEBT (피의 빚)