Hyunjin
„Can I talk openly, about what happened at that meeting?" Taesung, who is sitting next to me in the back seat, breaks the silence. Taeju is driving, and the other members of Saturnia are riding with the Kang brothers back to their station.
I glance in the rear-view mirror and meet Taeju's gaze. We both know what Taesung is going to ask. It can only be about one of two things. Either the fleeting gesture when his hand rested on my shoulder - which provoked a reaction - or the fact, that Mishimoto went to Taesung's father for information.
„Of course, what are you interested in?"
„The tattoo." My eyebrows shoot up. I should have realised that this is, what he would be interested in. I try to avoid his gaze and look back at the rear-view mirror, which reflects Taeju's gaze. I know, what that look is telling me. I should tell him the truth — after all, he is now part of our „family".
„The tattoo?" I repeat his words. He nods briefly and I search for the right words to explain it to him.
„I understand if you don't want to talk about it." Glancing in the rear-view mirror for the third time, I catch Taeju's amused expression. I've grown accustomed to Taesung simply refusing to speak to me politely, but this isn't a private conversation, and he should observe basic etiquette. I decide to ignore it.
Again.
„These are names. The names of those, whom Mishimoto himself..., executed." My voice catches on the last word, and I have to clear my throat. „In Japanese, they have a word for it shokei. It means execution. But he uses it differently. For him, it's not a punishment, but a signature. Every name on his back is proof, that the person no longer exists, because he has decided so." I pause for a moment, looking out of the window at the city's flashing lights. „Byun's name is among them, which is why he showed it to me. He wanted to remind me of the past." But that's not the main reason he showed us the tattoo. As it turns out, Taesung is quite observant himself.
„And also that the empty space is dedicated to you." I'm amazed at his brilliant deduction. He was able to make sense of what he saw despite not understanding a single word.
„Exactly." I answer him, but one thing bothers me. What Mishimoto said. I like to relive the past. He could only mean one thing by that. I clench my fist. Taesung will now become the target.
„That won't happen." Taesung interrupted my thoughts.
„None of us knows, what fate has in store for us. I will die one day."
„But not by his hand." He is so certain, that for a moment I believe, Mishimoto won't be the one to take me from this world.
„What makes you think that?"
„You have something he doesn't have."
„And what is that?" I whisper almost inaudibly. We both have our own people, whom we are not afraid to use. Above all, we are driven by a very strong motivation.
„Us." It's as if he's just made me a promise. Another one. As he says this, he puts his hand on my thigh and looks me in the eye. I can feel the tension between us slowly melting away.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, startling us both. Taesung pulls his hand off my leg and turns his face towards the window.
I take a deep breath and pull out my phone. The incoming text message is from one of the bars I own. I ask Taeju if we can stop there on the way home.
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„You stay here," I tell Taesung, before walking with Taeju to the back of the bar and heading to the office to discuss the deal with Cyanex. On the way, I order Taesung a drink at the bar.
He sits down obediently on a bar stool and the bartender places a glass of dark liquid in front of him.
I enter the office without knocking to find a group of three junkies, who are our regular customers, already waiting for us. They are sitting on the couch looking emaciated and lost, with bruises under their eyes. Their hands shake nervously. One of them smiles unnaturally, his teeth are yellowed and badly worn.
Beomgyu, who manages the bar, sits in a chair behind his desk. The air in the office is a mixture of cigarette smoke, sweat and chemicals — remnants of Cyanex from the last dose cling to the folds of the old leather sofa.
„You're late," hisses the one in the cap, leaning back in sofa. Impatient junkies, I think, cursing them silently. Taeju glares at him, but I stop him with a slight gesture.
„I decide when you get your next dose. Not you!" I cut him off before he can say anything else.
Beomgyu pulls a small metal case out of the safe and places it on the table. The click of the lock echoes through the room. All three of them immediately perk up.
Inside are six vials of blue powder glisten. Cyanex. They are sealed and stored in a foam cut-out. The junkie with the cap stands up abruptly and takes a step forward, his eyes burning with eagerness. His dose is within reach. Literally.
„Pay first!" I growl, and the junkie freezes, hand hovering over the vial. His eyes burn with desire and anger.
„It doesn't work that way. We have to sample the goods first."
I slam my hand on the table. „I don't know what you're trying to do. This isn't the first time you've encountered this drug. You know what Cyanex does. Pay first, or there will be no goods." He bares his rotten teeth at me. He clumsily tries to reach into his pocket, but I have a feeling it won't be money he pulls out. For a supposedly intelligent race, there are still fucking idiots like this fucking guy who keep pushing their luck.
He pulls out a knife and lunges across the table at me. On the way, he knocks a briefcase off the table and two vials fall to the floor and break.
His cronies follow him, eager to get their hands on the drugs at any cost. Taeju reacts quickly, taking out the two junkies with one blow.
I dodge the knife, grab the attacker's arm firmly and twist it behind his back. I slam my elbow into his face and hear his nose crack as he screams in pain. I don't let go of my grip, though. I knock him to the ground and stab him in the ribs with his own knife.
Quickly, cleanly, precisely and deeply.
Silence.
The junkie with the filed teeth stands up and stares at the blood and his „friend's" body, which is slowly collapsing to the ground. Then he starts backing away, mumbling some excuses.
„You'll pay for this, by the end of the week." I tell the two of them, pointing to the briefcase on the floor. „You have a debt."
„Now get out!" Taeju snaps, jerking his head towards the door.
When the office is empty, Beomgyu silently surveys the body.
„Was that necessary?" he asks me, even though he knows the answer. This isn't the first time something like this has happened here.
„They had a choice," I reply coldly, picking up the briefcase from the floor, closing the lid and handing it to Beomgyu to put back in the safe. „Clean it up," I order as I leave the office and return to the bar.
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BLOOD DEBT (피의 빚)