Mishimoto Yoshiaki
No formalities.
No apologies. No one expected any. There was just a box sitting on the table in my office. It was heavy and damp, and a dark stain was seeping through the cardboard.
I stared at it for a long time. A very long time. I knew, what was inside before I opened it. I could feel it in my bones. In my stomach. In that empty place beneath my skin.
I open it. Inside is a head. Nishimura's head.
His eyes are open, glassy and empty. His mouth is slightly open, as if he wanted to take one last breath or say something. The blood has congealed, and the room is immediately filled with the smell of iron and death. I look at him for a long time. Without haste. Without anger.
Then I slam the lid shut.
„That fucking bastard!" The table flies against the wall. Glass from the display case scatters across the floor. A bottle flies through the air and shatters against the wall with a hollow crack.
Nishimura wasn't just a soldier. He was my right-hand man. The brains behind the operations. He was a man, who knew when to keep quiet and when to kill. I raised him. I trusted him. And Yoon took him from me. Not quietly. Not by accident. He made sure I knew what he was doing.
Just as I took Byun from him all those years ago. At that moment, I realised. It's karma.
I remember his face. I remember how Hyunjin froze back then. How something broke in his eyes. I did it coldly. Without emotion. As a warning. As a message.
And now he's paid me back.
By doing this, he took more than just a person from me. He took my balance.
„You fucking bastard," I hiss, kicking the chair so hard that it tips over. My hands are shaking. Not with fear. With rage. Pure, raw, uncontrollable rage.
I stand up and walk over to the mirror. I turn my back to it and examine my skin. At the names. One next to the other. They are tattooed in Japanese characters, each one engraved precisely and cleanly. Each name belongs to someone I personally killed. No middlemen. No remote orders.
There is an empty space between them. That space burns.
It belongs to Hyunjin. His name should have been tattooed there long ago. But I underestimated him. I let him grow up. I let him think he had the upper hand. In the meantime, he took one of my best people.
„It shouldn't have taken so long," I mutter. This isn't a chess game anymore. This is personal. Hyunjin took Nishimura from me. I'll take everything from him.
His name. His body.The boy he started protecting.
I'll take the keys. I already know the name I'll have tattooed on my back after tonight.
... ༺༻ ...
I press the accelerator to the floor and race down the deserted street in the night, because if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. My patience has seriously overflowed. Right now, I long to fill the empty space on my back with his name.
It shouldn't have stayed empty for so long, but I underestimated Hyunjin. He's a really tough opponent. He took my best people away from me. Soon, though, he'll join the other names tattooed on my back, and he'll be proof that I defeated him.
The fact that he has no idea I bugged his car makes me a better gangster than he is. But that's understandable, given the situation. Hyunjin has other priorities right now. That was his main mistake, because I wanted to exploit that weakness at all costs.
I speed through a red light and a car in the opposite lane honks at me, but I ignore the horn and keep going. On the straight before the bridge, I shift into top gear and floor the accelerator, racing towards the only oncoming car.
It's Hyunjin's BMW 850i GC, which doesn't stand a chance against my Dodge RAM 1500 TRX. Just before he jerks the steering wheel, he looks me in the eye through the windscreen. The knowledge that he knows I am the last person he will ever see gives me incredible pleasure.
I slam into his car, hitting it on the side, and it starts rolling over. In my rear-view mirror, I see orange flames engulfing his car. At the end of the bridge, I hear a deafening bang and see smoke rising.
The car exploded with them inside.
I don't stop. I didn't even brake.
Instead, I watch the flames spreading across the asphalt and the smoke rising to the sky like a black flag in the rear-view mirror. For a moment, the bridge is bathed in orange light, then, everything plunges back into darkness. The explosion echoes in my chest long after the car disappears from view.
It's done.
Sometimes it's that simple. No more moves. No compromises.
I run my tongue over my lips and taste the metallic tang of adrenaline. My hands are firmly on the steering wheel and I am calm. I always knew I'd have to do it myself in the end. No middleman could do this properly.
Hyunjin was a good opponent. But a good opponent is still just an opponent.
I turn onto a side road and disappear from the main highway. No sirens yet. Not yet. When they arrive, they'll only find a burnt wreck, charred metal and the remains of what were once two people. One more name.
I can already see the empty space on my back clearly. I know exactly where the first needle will go. How deep. How slowly. Every name deserves pain. Otherwise, it has no weight.
Justice? No, balance.
I turn on the radio. Quiet music fills the cabin. The city ahead of me continues to live, unaware that it has just lost one of its underworld kings. And his shadow.
I smile. This time, I have won.
... ༺༻ ...
BLOOD DEBT (피의 빚)