Taesung
„So that's how it's going?" We're sitting across from each other. Just me and Hyunjin. The Hancook Restaurant, located in Namsan Tower, is unnaturally quiet. The white porcelain plates between us gleam like ice in the light of the glass lamps. Outside the windows, night-time Seoul spreads out like a million twinkling dots. The view is phenomenal that it takes my breath away.
„How's it going?" He replies without looking up from the menu. After taking Cyanex and being interrogated, I'm as hungry as a wolf. I'd be happy with a regular burger, but not Hyunjin — he needs luxury.
I lean across the table and whisper, „You always kill them, even if they talk." He finally looks up, his face cold and impassive as if I were talking about the weather. Satoshi spilled what we wanted to know — after Taeju ripped out his fingernails and I performed my chilli experiment, of course. I saw it in a film. We can't just take his word for it, but, considering what he said, I believe it's true. Mishimoto wants me in two ways. Either I join him or I end up six feet under.
„In this world," he begins, „you can't leave survivors. You can't let your feelings get in the way of what you have to do." I shake my head. Satoshi spoke up and still met his end. But that was to be expected.
The waiter places small portions of raw fish, masterfully cut into the shape of petals, in front of us.
„Why do you think Mishimoto is after me? What does he want?" I broached a topic of conversation that had been hanging in the air for some time.
„Eat." Hyunjin picks up her chopsticks and urges me on. She ignores my question about Mishimoto.
„What is it?"
„Fugu," he smiles mischievously, putting a piece of raw fish in his mouth. The meat is beautiful and translucent. But it's deadly if the chef makes even the slightest mistake.
„Seriously? Fugu? After your drug almost killed me?" I growl. „How many more ways are you going to try to kill me?"
Hyunjin laughs genuinely. For the first time, it's not just the corners of his mouth that turn up in a smile, he lets out a real, undiluted laugh. The sound takes me by surprise. „If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't do it through a plate."
„Well... thanks. That really reassures me." I hiss through my teeth, but decide to reach for my chopsticks. I pick up a piece of raw fish and stare at it. I examine the meat as if I could tell just by looking at it whether it's poisonous.
„It's safe," says Hyunjin when he sees where I'm looking. „The only chef in Korea I trust."
„I'd like to trust that nobody will try to kill me anymore," I hiss. My hand trembles and I drop the piece of raw fish back onto my plate. „I can't eat this," I say, putting my chopsticks back down.
Hyunjin watches me and, for the first time, I feel like he's enjoying how easily I get upset. He reaches for my plate with his chopsticks and picks up a piece of fish. „You can't live in fear, Taei," he says calmly, motioning for me to open my mouth. „Just let it guide you."
„Yeah. That's exactly what makes you a psychopath," I retort, waiting a moment to see how he will react and whether I have offended him. I couldn't help myself at that moment.
He smiles. Again. „Maybe." He takes another piece of fugu for himself. „But a living psychopath." This guy is unbelievable.
I gather all my courage — I'd rather be drugged with Cyanex again — but I open my mouth and let him put a piece of raw fish in it. The taste is mild, almost bland. But I still like it. My tongue tingles slightly and I hope it's just psychosomatic.
I swallow, waiting tensely to see if I'll fall onto the table face first into the plate. But nothing happens. I breathe a sigh of relief, which makes Hyunjin laugh for the third time today. He doesn't usually laugh like this, I don't know him like this. He doesn't usually laugh from the heart.
„See, you're alive. Come on, you still have nine pieces left." I swallow loudly, proving to him — and, more importantly, to myself — that I'm not afraid of poisonous fish. I eat all the remaining pieces of the deadly fish. Finally, I wash down the whole experience with a glass of strawberry-flavoured soju.
... ༺༻ ...
The drive back was quiet. The kind of heavy silence that settles between two people and holds them by the throat. Although we had a great time at the restaurant, it was as if that happy moment had stayed there and wasn't allowed to come home with us. Now we're back in this underworld of death.
My heart is pounding in my chest, I don't know how to react. What can I say? I don't really understand him — or myself.
Hyunjin hasn't said a word on the journey back. He's driving with one hand and lightly tapping the steering wheel with the other as though he's solving equations in his head that I can't begin to understand. His profile stands out more sharply than usual in the dim light of the street lamps.
I just sit next to him, feeling a knot in my stomach and a strange tingling in my chest that I don't want to name. I'd like to blame it on the fugu, but deep down I feel that it's something much more profound. Why is this happening to me?
When we arrive home, it briefly seems as though Hyunjin wants to tell me something — I recall him promising to tell me something before the meeting with Mishimoto — but then we both go to our respective rooms. In the bathroom, I wash away the remnants of stress, the smell of interrogation and the lingering fear of fugu. The water was uncomfortably hot, but I needed it.
As I stood under the hot water, I heard a door slam, followed by the sound of water rushing through the pipes. Hyunjin is taking a bath too.
I don't know why, but it made me nervous.
After my shower, I went down to the kitchen just to pour myself a glass of water. Nothing more — just to stop my intrusive thoughts. But he's there too.
Leaning against the kitchen counter, his black T-shirt clings to his wet skin. His hair is still damp and drops are slowly trickling down his neck to his collarbone. In the dim light of the kitchen, he looks different.
Dangerous. Attractive.
My heart is beating irregularly, I have to take a deep breath to steady myself.
„Can't sleep?" he says quietly.
I shake my head. „After today? Probably not for a week."
He steps away from the counter and takes a few steps towards me. His footsteps are quiet, but they feel like pressure on my chest. His feet are bare. He stops close — too close.
„Taei," he says quietly. „You did more today than I expected."
„What did you expect?" I blurt out too quickly. My voice is shaking, but not from fear. I can't control myself. Not in his presence. I can't. Why?
He tilts his head and his eyes shine in a strange way. „I was afraid you wouldn't be able to handle it."
I swallow. He's too close. In fact, he's so close that I can smell his almond shower gel and aftershave. „But you...," he continues quietly. „You stood by me. And you acted like it wasn't so terrible." I have to agree with those words. It was as if someone had flipped a switch, filling me with adrenaline and determination. I remember those images. The blood on my hands. But this isn't the first time, and it won't be the last.
It was terrible, I want to tell him, but I can't. There's something going on between us that I can't describe. A look that lasts a long time. A silence that isn't empty, but filled with tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.
His hand moves slightly, hinting that - he might. For the first time, I don't know if I want to move away. I'm not breathing.
And then.
A thunderous bark. Gwon. Deep, dark and warning. It was immediately followed by Hyeok's higher, more aggressive howl.
Hyunjin freezes. So do I.
We both know this is no ordinary bark.
„This isn't good," Hyunjin says, picking up the knife lying on the counter. He turns to me, his lips pressed into a thin line. „Stay here and don't move," he orders me sharply — for the third time today — and disappears from the kitchen, where he meets up with the others. For the first time, I can hear concern in his voice. Is he worried about me?
What we had is gone. On the one hand, I'm glad because I can finally breathe again. But on the other hand, I miss it, because my body is still tense from what might have happened next.
All four of them run outside, but five minutes later, they return and start discussing something. I catch every fifth word, but I can still make out the gist of the situation. Mishimoto sent his people, and the dogs reacted to them. War is coming, and I will be caught up in it.
... ༺༻ ...
BLOOD DEBT (피의 빚)