BAI Ch 2
by mimi“Sung-ah.”
Ha Sungrok urged him on.
Ha Shinsung silently looked down at his hand. The red ink staining his thumb gleamed vividly even under the dim lighting. It was a deep, blood-like crimson.
The moment Ha Shinsung pressed his fingerprint, Cha Moeun snatched the joint pledge. The way he offered it up to the boss with both hands didn’t sit well with Ha Shinsung at all. He felt uneasy. What exactly was the source of this unease…
“<White Lion> will plant explosives in the personal vehicle of Disciplinary Task Force Deputy Commander Jin Chiwoo.”
Ha Sungrok read the pledge aloud in a solemn voice.
“If we’re lucky, we won’t get caught; if we’re unlucky, we’ll die; and if things go wrong, we’ll take our own lives on the spot by any means necessary.”
This wasn’t a task suited for a group. Nor was it a hit-and-run operation that guaranteed survival. That’s why they needed a volunteer. Someone who could personally plant the explosives in Jin Chiwoo’s car. Someone prepared to die.
Ha Shinsung looked at Cha Moeun.
He wasn’t the only one. Everyone seemed to assume Cha Moeun would step up. Above all, if it was Cha Moeun—who’d led the most dangerous frontline missions—survival wasn’t entirely out of the question.
As if to meet everyone’s expectations, Cha Moeun raised his hand. But the words that came out of his mouth were unexpected.
“I have a recommendation.”
Ha Shinsung’s heart raced.
“A recommendation? Who?”
“Jung Ryujin.”
Ha Shinsung doubted his ears.
“Jung Ryujin from the intelligence team is suitable.”
“What?!”
“The responsibility for a subordinate’s death lies with their superior. Especially in this case, wasn’t it a situation caused by an intelligence team member getting involved in a terror squad mission without any prior preparation? Jung Ryujin, as Gwak Hyeonwoo’s recommender and someone responsible for this incident, should rightfully take on this mission.”
“Are you insane?!”
Cha Moeun glared at Ha Shinsung.
“Keep your personal feelings out of this.”
“Hey!”
Ha Sungrok furrowed his brow. He raised a hand to silence his son’s protest.
Cha Moeun lifted his chin defiantly.
“Then who else is there besides Jung Ryujin? Is there anyone more suitable than him?”
“He’s still young!”
Only after blurting it out did he realize his mistake. Bringing up age in the face of a life-or-death mission? Cha Moeun sneered.
“Young?”
“…”
“Gwak Hyeonwoo was twenty-three too.”
Jung Ryujin was twenty-one. The two were closer than brothers. They shared a bed in the lodging, didn’t bother distinguishing their dishes, and even used the bathroom together without hesitation.
It’d be a lie to say he wasn’t jealous. But Ha Shinsung swore to the heavens he’d never once wished Gwak Hyeonwoo would disappear from this world.
“Cha Moeun.”
Ha Shinsung’s lips twisted.
“Who are you taking your anger out on right now?”
“…”
“Can’t you hear me? Why are you venting on the wrong person? Were you always this petty, or did you just lose it for a moment? I hope it’s the latter. Snap out of it quick. Otherwise, I’m really going to be disappointed in you!”
“Go ahead and be disappointed.”
“What?”
Cha Moeun’s voice was icy.
“I’m not taking it back. I genuinely want Jung Ryujin to do this.”
“You’re heading in the wrong direction. Do I really have to spell it out? The one you should be mad at isn’t Jung Ryujin—it’s Jin Chiwoo!”
As Ha Shinsung lunged at Cha Moeun, Baek Sayul grabbed him and forced him back into his seat. The moment he saw the planning team leader’s resolute gaze, Ha Shinsung realized it. This wasn’t Cha Moeun acting impulsively.
It was a collaboration between the two.
“In truth, justification isn’t that important.”
Lee Rohan, the protest team leader, spoke up.
“You can always come up with a reason after the deed is done.”
“So you’re saying you’ll risk someone’s life over personal feelings? That’s ridiculous. You’re both insane. Completely out of your minds.”
“Not necessarily…”
Lee Rohan trailed off.
“Sayul hyung had been planning this operation for a while. Jin Chiwoo’s an easier target than Shin Haebeom, after all.”
“This is the first I’m hearing of it.”
“He’d only planned it, not seriously considered it. I only heard about it yesterday when I arrived, just before the rally started.”
“…”
“You should’ve come earlier. What kind of disgrace is that in front of the boss?”
Standing in the club’s kitchen, the two nibbled on dried fruit and leftover snacks. As Lee Rohan chewed on a discolored piece of mango, he casually remarked.
“Still, I didn’t expect them to name Ryujin outright.”
“Cha Moeun and Baek Sayul teamed up on this. They deliberately set out to screw me over.”
No one had objected on the spot. Except Ha Shinsung. Even Ha Sungrok, the organization’s boss who’d brought Ryujin into <White Lion>, stayed silent. Silence, as they say, is tacit agreement.
Juice squirted from Lee Rohan’s lips.
“What are you going to say to Ryujin?”
“Say what! I’m not letting him do that kind of job!”
“The execution date is two days from now. It’s practically decided.”
“You think I’d just let it happen?”
“Then what, you’ll betray us? The boss and everyone?”
“…”
“Don’t lie. Don’t dodge it either. Tell Ryujin and the others properly. Every team’s mood is going to be crap, but you’re the intelligence team leader, so you need to handle it better.”
Ha Shinsung clenched his fist tightly. The crumpled cigarette pack in his hand fell to the floor with a thud.
White sunlight streamed through the half-open window. It was a damn morning.
✶⋆.˚
Ha Shinsung bought a cheese-stuffed sandwich and tomato juice from a shop near the station. As he stepped out holding the wrapped package, the parking lot was buzzing. He pulled a mask from his pocket and put it on.
Two cars stood at the center of the crowd: a black Range Rover and a red Chrysler. Ha Shinsung instantly recognized the rare combination of luxury vehicles you’d hardly see on the street.
It was Shin Haebeom and Jin Chiwoo’s commute. Their perfectly tailored Disciplinary Task Force uniforms looked polished. The ceremonial attire, supposedly reserved for officers and above, was undeniably a luxurious but impractical item.
Kwon Joohyuk spared no expense on the Disciplinary Task Force. Flashy appearances naturally drew attention. Task Force officers performed their military duties while appearing in various media, earning both public interest and money. The masses dubbed them with a name mimicking American superhero movie titles: First Soldier.
They stood out even from a distance. Shin Haebeom, a head taller than the average person, was signing a schoolgirl’s notebook with a smile. He was a completely different person from the one Ha Shinsung had seen in the Task Force basement. The chain-smoking gatekeeper with a ghostly face was nowhere to be found.
“Fascist bastard.”
Ha Shinsung slammed the car door shut. The passenger-side glove compartment jolted open. Amid tissues and magazines, a handgun glinted coldly.
“…”
Gripping the steering wheel, he imagined it. A bullet lodged in the center of Jin Chiwoo’s forehead. A hole punched through the skull beneath thin skin. Blood and brain matter splattered across the asphalt. People screaming, Shin Haebeom shaking his already-dead friend’s body and wailing.
If he killed Jin Chiwoo now, Jung Ryujin wouldn’t have to carry out the bombing.
He tucked the gun into his blazer’s inner pocket. But he didn’t get out of the car. Quick-footed reporters were already swarming.
Through the window, he saw the ‘First Soldiers’ smiling brightly. Ha Shinsung didn’t take his eyes off them until the scenery shifted completely as he rounded a corner.
A puddle from the rain splashed violently. Screams and complaints erupted from the crowd’s outskirts. Turning his head, Shin Haebeom caught sight of a black Cadillac exiting the parking lot.
“Brigadier General? What’s wrong?”
A reporter called out to him. The microphone hovered just shy of Shin Haebeom’s lips. It wasn’t just the mic—massive lenses the size of human heads glinted menacingly in his face, poised to capture every pore.
Deftly dodging a camera grazing his temple, Shin Haebeom thought to himself: Playing the clown isn’t for just anyone.
“Brigadier General?”
Shin Haebeom flashed a bright smile.
“It’s nothing. What was your question?”
✶⋆.˚
Ryujin was awake. A crew member explained that he thought Ryujin had taken the medicine, but he’d flushed it down the toilet.
“Alright, get out.”
The sound of the door closing was chilling. Ha Shinsung set the sandwich package on the desk.
“Hyeonwoo’s dead.”
If he was going to take a hit, it was better to get it over with quickly.
“Sorry for lying.”
He opened the sandwich pack. It was still warm. The melted cheese was just right for eating now. The ice-blended tomato juice was a drink Ryujin usually liked.
Ha Shinsung picked up the juice cup and turned around. As he did, a book flew at his face. It was a thick hardcover textbook. The name written in marker on the spine caught his eye: Gwak Hyeonwoo.
“Hyeonwoo hyung is dead?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s it?”
“I’m sorry.”
Ryujin’s lips trembled.
“To who?”
“…”
“Who are you sorry to right now?”
His wide, teary eyes glistened. Bloodshot whites showed prominent veins. The resolve not to cry in front of him was palpable. Ha Shinsung shut his eyes tight, then opened them again. Nothing had changed.
“To you.”
Ha Shinsung answered.
“I’m sorry to you.”
“…”
“You need to tell the others too. Come out when you’ve sorted yourself out.”
He pointed to the food on the desk.
“Eat if you can.”
Ryujin burst into laughter.
“If I can?”
“Yeah.”
“Right now, I feel like chewing you up and swallowing you whole.”
Ha Shinsung let go of the doorknob. He strode toward Ryujin, who’d risen from the bed.
“Me?”
“Yeah. You.”
He struck Ryujin’s cheek with his fist. The frail body collapsed onto the bed helplessly.
“Say it again. What?”
“You! You bastard!”
He grabbed the red hair. Lifting the face pressed into the blanket, blood dripped from his nose.
“Again. What?”
“Did you go deaf, you damn bastard!”
A snap sounded inside Ha Shinsung’s body. He yanked Ryujin up by the hair. He couldn’t forgive the insolent attitude.
He slapped the pretty face of this weak, stupid brat once more. Ryujin fell toward the desk. The juice spilled over his head as he collapsed.
The tomato juice soaking his pale face looked like blood.
Ha Shinsung crouched in front of Ryujin.
“Taste good?”
His swollen lips clamped shut. A contemptuous glare shot at him. He’d probably never made that face at Gwak Hyeonwoo.
That thought made a hot lump surge up inside him.
Ha Shinsung patted Ryujin’s cheek with his palm.
“Know what your problem is? You’ve got no learning ability. Even a dumb animal that can’t understand words will mimic something after getting beaten enough, but you—how is it that no matter how much you get hit, you never change?”
“Stop your bullshit, you murderer.”
“It’s not me—it’s Jin Chiwoo, that damn bastard.”
Ha Shinsung grabbed Ryujin’s chin. He pinned down his flailing legs with his knees and forced his lips onto his. He shoved his tongue into the pried-open mouth.
Ryujin’s fists pounded Ha Shinsung’s shoulders wildly.
“You… damn… bastard! Don’t touch me!”
“You’re so damn expensive.”
Ryujin’s face flushed red as he gasped roughly. Panting with that face didn’t scare him one bit. Ha Shinsung stared intently at Ryujin’s face, smeared with blood and saliva.
“Get a grip, Jung Ryujin. Don’t you get it yet? This is what they want—us fighting and tearing each other apart until we destroy ourselves.”
“…”
“Don’t cling to petty emotions. You can’t do organization work in that state of mind. Do you think Gwak Hyeonwoo’s the only crew member the Disciplinary Task Force has killed so far?”
“Shut up! Shut up and get out of my sight!”
Ha Shinsung laughed inwardly. The more scared a dog is, the louder it barks.
“At least because he was with <White Lion>, we could recover his body. Want to hear a story from my experience? Where I’m from, when family got dragged off by the security forces, tortured, and killed, they’d sell the bodies to the state. For the price of a sack of rice.”
Ha Shinsung stroked Ryujin’s head.
“Sort yourself out and come out.”
The living room TV was on. Judging by the maxed-out volume, it must’ve been pretty noisy.
Ha Shinsung threw himself onto the sofa. A crew member quickly placed an ashtray in front of him.
His vision blurred with gray smoke.
“Take care of him for a while.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sorry about Hyeonwoo.”
Encouraging words bordering on consolation poured out. Ha Shinsung was satisfied with the crew’s reactions, so different from Ryujin’s. This was how it should be. This was what made them comrades on the same boat. Jung Ryujin and Cha Moeun, letting personal feelings cloud their judgment and getting angry, were the odd ones out.
The scene on the TV looked familiar. It was the sandwich shop Ha Shinsung had visited that morning. A reporter held a mic to an employee, who chirped brightly about the ‘breakfast items’ Shin Haebeom and Jin Chiwoo had bought. It was absurd.
Brigadier General Shin Haebeom ordered a tuna sandwich and orange juice, while Lieutenant Colonel Jin Chiwoo got Greek yogurt.
The crew’s complaints erupted.
“Damn it. Do we really need to know what those bastards ate for breakfast?”
“Exactly.”
“They need to tone down the idolization. Seriously, it’s like they don’t realize those guys eat and shit like everyone else.”
But when Shin Haebeom’s smiling face zoomed in on the screen, the grumbling crew fell silent.
“Well… Shin Haebeom does look slick. Tall too.”
The high-collared Disciplinary Task Force uniform suited him. He looked cold when expressionless, but his smile transformed his demeanor surprisingly.
“Jin Chiwoo’s not bad-looking either, but he can’t hold a candle next to Shin Haebeom.”
“Of course, idiot. Rank difference isn’t something to ignore.”
Ha Shinsung stared intently at the screen.
He was definitely handsome. The prominent nose, defined philtrum, and perfectly proportioned seagull-shaped lips were flawless. He could step into a profile shoot and debut as a celebrity without issue. But if you wanted to nitpick, it wasn’t impossible. Ha Shinsung pointed at the screen with his cigarette-holding hand.
“Look closely from the side—he’s got a hooked nose. His jaw’s too sharp too. Smiling and talking like that makes him seem nice, but he’s not like that when he’s blank-faced. Break it down, and there’s nothing good about him. His eyes, nose, mouth—all scream sneaky traitor, merchant vibes.”
“Oh, come on, who believes in physiognomy these days…”
A crew member who’d carelessly replied got smacked on the head by a senior. Ha Shinsung realized he’d made a fool of himself. But there was no taking back what he’d said.
“Shut up. Turn it off.”
The moment the TV went off, the doorbell rang as if on cue.
“What’s that? Was someone supposed to come?”
“No, we didn’t hear anything about that…”
The crew members just stared blankly at each other. Ha Shinsung stubbed out his cigarette and stood. He had a bad feeling.
“Leader.”
“You guys, back to your spots.”
Ha Shinsung pressed himself against the shoe cabinet. He drew the handgun from his blazer’s inner pocket. The sleek barrel of the Desert Eagle, fitting perfectly in his palm, glinted under the entrance light.
“Are you seriously doing this?!”
Ha Shinsung shouted. Cha Moeun and Baek Sayul pretended not to hear. Without even taking off their shoes, they barged in, stomping through another team’s lodging, and flung open the bedroom door. They ignored the intelligence team members asking what was going on.
Ha Shinsung blocked the door to Ryujin’s room.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Cha Moeun sneered.
“Get lost. We’re busy.”
“Explain what you’re up to right now!”
“Can’t you tell? Did our intelligence team leader grow eyes in the back of his head?”
Ha Shinsung glared fiercely at Cha Moeun. He couldn’t fathom what about Gwak Hyeonwoo drove him to act like this.
“Cut it out, Cha Moeun.”
“You signed the pledge. I thought you understood us perfectly.”
“It hasn’t been decided who’s doing it yet.”
“Yet?”
The blatant mockery left him speechless. Raising his head, Ha Shinsung saw Baek Sayul ushering the intelligence team members out the front door.
“Don’t touch my crew!”
“Just sending them on a quick errand.”
Baek Sayul said, slipping his wallet into his back pocket.
“There’s a nice bakery nearby. New place, maybe? The door was open, and the smell was so good my mouth was watering. You know me—I’m crazy about croquettes. So I sent them on a little errand. Don’t take it too hard.”
“If you want croquettes, send your own crew!”
“Since when did we start dividing them into your crew and mine? You’re making me feel bad.”
Ha Shinsung laughed.
“Is that something you, as my senior, should be saying to me right now?”
Cha Moeun tilted his chin up.
“Don’t snap at Sayul sunbae. Want to get embarrassed in front of your crew?”
Ha Shinsung clenched his fist. He couldn’t take it anymore. Sure, they’d signed the pledge, but only the date and details were set. It didn’t mean the person executing it was confirmed.
Selecting a crew member for the mission required the agreement of not just the boss but all five team leaders. The two in front of him were completely ignoring that obvious fact. Ha Shinsung’s lips twitched.
“When someone’s trying to resolve things nicely, you should play along. Do I look like a pushover because I’ve been quiet?!”
“I really don’t get it.”
Cha Moeun stepped back and crossed his arms. Ha Shinsung gripped the doorknob tightly.
“Don’t play dumb. You’re driving my crew member to their death right now!”
“So it seems, sunbae?”
“You don’t trust my plan.”
“That’s not what I mean!”
Baek Sayul mirrored Cha Moeun’s stance.
“Of course, my plan isn’t perfect. But we’ve always taken risks. There’s no reason—or time—to hesitate now. Or… is there a reason you’re wavering, Shinsung-ah?”
Cha Moeun’s voice grew triumphant.
“Get it? Move. We’re busy. To make him capable of a solo mission in two days, we’re stretched thin as it is.”
“You’re a real bitch.”
“That’s why I’m the one screwing you over.”
Ha Shinsung asked for time. It was a plea that bent his pride. Cha Moeun, with a pitying look, brushed off invisible dust from Ha Shinsung’s shoulder and whispered.
“Five minutes.”
The room was still a mess. Ryujin was stuffing his belongings haphazardly into an old Boston bag Gwak Hyeonwoo had brought when he arrived.
Ha Shinsung asked.
“What are you doing?”
“…”
“What the hell are you doing right now!”
“…”
Ha Shinsung strode over and grabbed Ryujin’s arm. The bag, precariously balanced on the bed’s edge, fell, spilling its contents.
“Let go! Don’t interfere!”
“Explain, Jung Ryujin. What’s this about?”
“Don’t demand from others what you can’t do yourself.”
“What?”
“Why should I explain when you can’t even do it properly yourself!”
Ryujin’s thin shoulders heaved once heavily. Catching his breath, he spat out.
“The team leaders outside—they’re here to pick me up, aren’t they?”
An arrow of rage pierced Ha Shinsung’s mind.
“Did you call them?”
“Yeah.”
His lips quivered. How had he not noticed? No matter how tight time was, Cha Moeun and Baek Sayul wouldn’t recklessly storm another team’s lodging, risking security. Why hadn’t he realized? That Jung Ryujin, unhinged by Gwak Hyeonwoo’s death, might do something drastic. Why had he left this walking time bomb alone with a pager, of all things. Why!
“You!”
Ha Shinsung gritted his teeth. Betrayal was unforgivable. He could never forgive being screwed over like this.
As he raised his fist, Ryujin glared up at him.
“What? Gonna hit me again?”
“You…”
“Go ahead, do it. Beat me down and rape me. That’s your specialty, isn’t it? Tricking people, using them, filling your own greed—that’s what you’re best at in this world, leader.”
Ryujin bent down and gathered the scattered items from the floor. Ha Shinsung muttered, as if making an excuse.
“You agreed to it.”
“On the condition you’d get Hyeonwoo hyung out.”
Ryujin laughed bitterly.
“I trusted you.”
“I didn’t kill Gwak Hyeonwoo.”
“I know. That’s why I’m going.”
Ha Shinsung’s brow furrowed. His voice trembled faintly.
“Do you… understand what you’re saying right now?”
Ryujin looked up.
“Yeah. I do.”
It wasn’t a face filled with resolve. Rather, it was deathly pale. Ha Shinsung knew when people made that expression. It happened when their spirit broke. That’s how Ryujin was now. His will shattered, he’d lost the strength and desire to protect himself.
Slinging the Boston bag over his shoulder, Ryujin said.
“Get lost.”
“Think it over. It’s not too late.”
Ha Shinsung grabbed Ryujin’s wrist and held it tight.
“I can talk to Cha Moeun for you.”
Silence followed.
“Jung Ryujin. I know you’re doing this because you’re mad at me, but those guys aren’t here to help you. Don’t you realize how furious Cha Moeun is with you right now? And Baek Sayul, that sunbae, just wants to pull off something big this time to show off. That way, he can save face as the planning team leader. It might even make up for Gwak Hyeonwoo’s death a little! If you just used your head even a bit, you’d see the answer, so why are you acting so stupid?”
“I hate it here.”
It felt like a blow to the back of the head.
“What?”
“I’m too dumb to understand complicated stuff, just like you said, leader. I don’t even want to know anymore. I just hate it here. I feel like anywhere else would be better than this place.”
“Are you seriously saying that right now?”
“I can’t breathe here!”
Ryujin shouted.
“Just leave me alone now.”
“Jung Ryujin, are you really out of your mind?”
“I must’ve been crazy all this time for trusting you, leader! But not anymore. I’m not going to be pushed around or beaten like a dog any longer. I’m done sitting still, waiting for someone to fix this situation for me!”
Ha Shinsung ran a hand through his hair. For the first time, Ryujin felt unfamiliar.
Cha Moeun flung the door open. His voice dripped with sarcasm.
“Filming a drama in here, huh?”
“You said you’d give me time.”
“I did. Five minutes.”
Cha Moeun’s wristwatch glinted. Following him, Baek Sayul sauntered in, casually slinging Ryujin’s Boston bag over his shoulder with a playful air.
“No need to make that face. Ryujin will do fine.”
“Are you serious?”
“Of course.”
The urge to retort—What can’t you do with words?—rose to his throat. But instead of lashing out, Ha Shinsung’s clenched fist trembled.
Don’t go.
Don’t go, Ryujin-ah.
Words completely contrary to his heart slipped out.
“What if! What if I said I was wrong, apologized for everything that’s happened so far… would you stay?”
Ryujin laughed.
“Piss off.”
<Ryujin 2>
“I’m going to college.”
Hyeonwoo hyung said. The first thing out of my mouth was, “Are you serious?” He gave an awkward smile, shrugged, and said he could now apply to a school where family background scores were less important.
“They say it’s a selection process that focuses heavily on grades, so there’s a chance. You should try it later too.”
“You’re saying that even though you know my grades?”
“Come on. If our Yeonwoo put in the effort, he’d be at the top of the school in no time. Everyone from first place down would have to step aside.”
“Top of the school? Hell no. Even a stray dog would laugh.”
I took a deep drag of my cigarette. Hyung didn’t show any displeasure. But for someone like him—a top student who diligently helped his mom run her snack shop—the smell of cheap tar didn’t suit him at all.
When I stubbed out the butt against the wall, his expression visibly brightened. Embarrassed, I grumbled at him.
“Control your face.”
“I only say it because you keep doing stuff that’s bad for you.”
“Damn it… You think I don’t know that?”
He laughed. That smile of his could make even my snarky remarks shrink back.
We stepped out of the alley and blended into the crowd of students heading to school. Hyung walked beside me, matching my pace.
“Don’t stick so close. People will think we’re friends.”
“We are friends.”
“There’s no benefit to being seen with me. I’m no help to you.”
The smile faded from his face. He looked as gloomy as a rain-soaked puppy.
“Why do you say stuff like that?”
“It’s a miracle I even ended up at the same high school as you… I don’t want to burden Auntie. I’m not going to college. I’ll work.”
“Still, study a bit. You never know how your mind might change later.”
“I’ve been telling you, we’re different breeds from the start.”
Every time I said stuff like this, Hyeonwoo hyung’s face showed pain.
“Don’t say that.”
We walked in silence for a while, staring straight ahead. He asked.
“Do you still see Noona these days?”
“Yeah…”
“Right now?”
“Not right now. Maybe because I’m with you. Auntie says Noona feels guilty toward you and your family… that’s probably why.”
Hyeonwoo hyung’s voice grew quiet.
“I always say this, but Yeonbi Noona didn’t do anything wrong.”
But the world didn’t see it that way. That was the problem.
As we entered the main street, I felt eyes sticking to the side of my face. Harsh stares. Hyeonwoo hyung seemed to feel it too, shrinking his shoulders. Knowing someone hated me drained my energy just by itself.
He squeezed my hand tighter. Hyeonwoo hyung gave a small smile.
“Let’s go to the shop together today.”
“Ugh, why? To put me to work again?”
“Hey, it’s not like that. Mom misses you. She even bought rice cakes to make for you when you come.”
“You eat them.”
“You like it but act all shy. You love our tteokbokki.”
“I do, but… I feel bad.”
“Then just do the dishes again.”
“Ugh, I knew it.”
I scratched the back of my head, and Hyeonwoo hyung burst out laughing, smacking my shoulder.
<Haebeom 2>
The name my aunt gave me felt strange. I’d often miss someone calling me and end up getting flak for ignoring them.
In the kitchen, you need quick responses and a loud voice. In that fierce battlefield of life—where all kinds of food are cooked and every noise clashes—a chef who can’t even recognize his own name is a fatal flaw. The assistant chef training me suggested putting a bell on the wall instead.
My struggle to adjust to my new name was largely due to my aunt. She even made my cousin Yena call me Haejun. My name differed inside and outside the house. Only at home could I be my true self.
Auntie constantly asked me questions. About my parents, the house I grew up in, the dog we raised, things that happened when I was Shin Haejun. She worked tirelessly to ensure my life didn’t end the way they wanted it to. She kept stoking the anger and vengeance inside me.
My father’s death was plastered across headlines as the “Samryong Execution.” I learned through the news that the two others killed alongside him were Ha Jinju, CEO of Yusung Foods, and Jin Hyerim, Vice President of Daeil Electronics.
The world was curious about us. The victims whose skulls were crushed throwing eggs at a rock were no longer interesting. Now people wanted to know about the survivors—the descendants of those victims, kept alive thanks to the desperate protection of now-disbanded Republic Party members.
Occasionally, I’d encounter someone who recognized me. They stood silently in the crowd. Their faces were dark, but their expressions were desperate, their eyes intense. Just like my aunt’s when she looked at me. Eyes that longed for an avenger.
✶⋆.˚
For handling Gwak Hyeonwoo’s death, Jin Chiwoo received a three-month pay cut and a one-month suspension, while Shin Haebeom, the overall commander, got a one-month pay cut. A press conference was held at the Jeokrim Department, where Kwon Joohyuk, aide to the supreme leader, announced they were discussing ways to address the numerous issues recently arising within the Disciplinary Task Force.
The media emphasized that the clash during the investigation was an “unavoidable tragedy.” The Disciplinary Task Force, with its strict selection criteria, had suffered chronic staffing shortages since its inception. Despite high salaries and social status, its members were physically and mentally pushed to the brink. Thus, they said, preventing such incidents required the public’s cooperation and support.
Jin Chiwoo abandoned his plan to quit smoking. Shin Haebeom watched his friend puff away like an unleashed colt.
“Keep a low profile for a while.”
“Do I need to say I’m sorry to you?”
“Do you feel like you should?”
“No.”
Shin Haebeom chuckled.
“Figured.”
Jin Chiwoo inhaled deeply, staring into space with resigned eyes.
“I don’t care what happens to me or what people say… but thinking about Yu Mihyun stirring things up gives me a headache.”
Shin Haebeom fully agreed. Yu Mihyun wasn’t satisfied with her current position. As Shinryonggwan’s “Number Three,” she had to keep fighting to avoid following Gwak Jaeheon’s fate—either take down Kwon Joohyuk or at least cripple his limbs.
“Supporting rebels to win an internal power struggle? There’s a limit to team-killing.”
Jin Chiwoo’s voice was heated.
“Forget it. This might actually be a good thing.”
“Good how? You want to retire before you even start?”
Shin Haebeom lit a cigarette too.
“This incident gave Yu Mihyun an internal enemy. We can frame it as her siding with rebels because of her merchant family roots—say she can’t shake her lowly trader instincts.”
Jin Chiwoo’s expression hardened.
“Say what you will, Yu Mihyun’s still one of us.”
“Funny how that makes me feel a kinship.”
“But the best-case scenario is them fighting each other to self-destruction, right? We’d get off without lifting a finger.”
“You think we’d get that lucky?”
Shin Haebeom shook his head.
“No. But we’ve always found a way out of the worst situations.”
There’s a saying that the mood at Jeokrim Department for the day is set by Yu Mihyun’s lipstick color. Pink means neutral, orange means she’s in a good mood, red means today’s absolute hell so don’t mess with her.
And today, on the TV screen, Yu Mihyun wore a striking orange lipstick that matched her blue suit perfectly. Her voice was loud and bright. It was a press conference about Gwak Hyeonwoo’s death. She unleashed all her grievances and doubts about the Disciplinary Task Force without filter.
Hasn’t it already fallen into a tool for personal dignity and maintaining the status quo?
Jin Chiwoo mimicked her tone mockingly. Shin Haebeom stared at the screen calmly.
“The ‘individual’ Yu Mihyun’s talking about must be Kwon Joohyuk.”
“Yeah. The great General Kwon.”
“She still can’t measure up to Kwon Ilhyuk.”
Jin Chiwoo turned off the TV. Yu Mihyun’s orange lipstick and bright voice vanished. Silence settled in the office.
Shin Haebeom asked.
“Why?”
“Why do you look depressed again? Is it Yu Mihyun?”
“I’m not depressed.”
“Don’t lie, asshole. You’re in a shitty mood right now.”
Shin Haebeom raised both hands in surrender.
“You were right earlier. It’s because of Yu Mihyun.”
Jin Chiwoo yelled.
“Is it fun messing with people?!”
“It’s fine. I don’t try to kill myself anymore.”
Jin Chiwoo shut his mouth. Shin Haebeom blew cigarette smoke toward his friend’s contorted face.
“After Auntie passed like that, I lost it for a bit. I’m fine now. Completely healed.”
“They say mental illness isn’t cured, just managed. You need meds and counseling to keep it under control. Anyway, drill it into that head of yours. Manage your condition 24/7. Eat three meals even if you’re full, and crash at night. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Then I’m out.”
“Your suspension starts tomorrow, Chiwoo.”
“I’m taking an early leave!”
Shin Haebeom clicked his tongue. When would that shameless guy ever get his act together?
Alone in the room, every sound became strangely clear.
Shin Haebeom looked at the desk clock. Its old design had chipped edges and needed regular battery changes—an outdated relic. Jin Chiwoo had scoffed, saying who in this day and age buys something like that.
Jin Chiwoo didn’t know the world of antiques. Nor did he care. To such a friend, Shin Haebeom showed off ranks and results.
When Jin Chiwoo learned that one beat-up desk clock was worth two weeks of Shin Haebeom’s salary, he shook his neck, exclaiming, “You’ve been hogging this sweet market all to yourself?”
In the end, Jin Chiwoo didn’t succeed in his ‘side hustle.’ He lacked an eye for goods and didn’t even try to understand collectors’ needs—a predictable outcome. He ended up dumping his stock at an auction and retreating quietly.
Not that he learned any grand lesson from it, to be honest. Shin Haebeom figured Jin Chiwoo just wasn’t cut out for business. That’s probably why Daeil Electronics’ successor was decided early.
Might as well tell him when I get home. Look into something else if you want to help the family with a side gig, buddy.
Shin Haebeom moved the mouse. The black monitor lit up, revealing a now-familiar face.
It was a family tree he’d made himself. One for Ryu Yeonbi, another for Gwak Jaeheon. Below their names were photos of Jung Ryujin and Gwak Hyeonwoo. Shin Haebeom hovered the cursor over Jung Ryujin’s picture and zoomed in.
It wasn’t high resolution. Still, identifying facial features wasn’t an issue. Long live modern science.
Shin Haebeom stared at the photo. No matter how much he looked, he never got tired of that face.
Jung Ryujin. Twenty-one. How Ryu Yeonbi’s brother ended up in <White Lion>, he didn’t know. He didn’t know, but he could guess. Seeing how close he was with Gwak Hyeonwoo, he probably didn’t believe the Ryu Yeonbi scandal. How unfair must the title “nation’s adulteress” have felt? She must’ve been the Noona he was proudest of in the world.
Shin Haebeom stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. If it’s about living with injustice, I wouldn’t lose to anyone either.
Shin Haebeom and Jung Ryujin had a lot in common. Both had family taken by state power, were raised by relatives, and endured unhappy school years. Of course, there were differences too. Shin Haebeom flipped between Jung Ryujin’s report cards and school records. This guy barely attended school.
“Still, I was good at studying.”
Of course, he didn’t think Jung Ryujin got a fair shot.
Teachers sorted and graded students by family background. No matter how good your scores were, a bad background meant a lower final evaluation. Shin Haebeom couldn’t let his guard down even for a trivial quiz. The moment he slipped, hyenas would pounce, tongues wagging. The tower of achievements he’d built enduring bias and discrimination would crumble.
You must’ve been in an even worse situation. Bad enough to give up and let it all go…
Shin Haebeom’s hand stopped moving the mouse. His thoughts froze. An earth-shaking explosion halted everything.
He couldn’t hear a thing. As if the world had suddenly plunged into a vacuum, Shin Haebeom couldn’t hear anything.
He slowly rose from his chair and approached the window.
A second explosion sent flames soaring. Shin Haebeom’s eyes caught a red Chrysler flipping into the air, then crashing down with a deafening boom.
Unprepared revenge is a high-speed train to a dog’s death. Those consumed by rage meet an irreversible end at the hands of the enemy they despise.
Shin Haebeom looked down at the man sprawled on the tiled floor. His arms were tied behind his back, and he didn’t budge.
He’d passed out multiple times during the torture, and each time, cold water was dumped on him to wake him up. Shin Haebeom didn’t allow the guy a single moment of relief. The thought of Jin Chiwoo being in that blown-up Chrysler made his head spin.
Jin Chiwoo had escaped disaster by mere seconds. Those few seconds he’d paused in front of the Disciplinary Task Force headquarters were a godsend. If he hadn’t stopped, if he hadn’t sighed while looking up at the 12-story building…
It was horrific. He didn’t even want to imagine it.
Jin Chiwoo was in the infirmary getting first aid. He was shaken up, but his injuries were reportedly minor scrapes.
That didn’t mean he could forgive the terrorist in front of him. Even if it was someone he’d briefly felt a strange kinship with.
Jung Ryujin lay collapsed before him. Shin Haebeom stomped on the back of his head with his combat boot.
“Stubborn, huh.”
The frail body twitched.
“Let’s see that pretty face.”
Shin Haebeom’s boot lifted Ryujin’s face. Blood beaded on his torn lips. A curse slipped through them.
“What are you looking at, you bastard?”
“We’ve met before, haven’t we?”
“Yeah, you fuck.”
“Such a mouth… How’ve you been?”
When Shin Haebeom pulled his foot back, Ryujin’s head dropped limply. Shin Haebeom crouched beside him with a smile.
“Did you get the body okay? How was the funeral? Gwak Hyeonwoo—only had a lone mother as family, right? Must’ve been pretty lonely.”
“Shut up.”
“You really thought you’d succeed? That bomb you stuffed in Chiwoo’s car—it wasn’t even proper.”
“Shut up, you damn bastard!”
Shin Haebeom grabbed Ryujin’s hair and yanked it up.
“Did Ha Sungrok order it?”
“…”
“To take out the Disciplinary Task Force deputy commander? With a half-baked homemade bomb?”
It was sloppy. So riddled with holes it was hard to believe a <White Lion> terrorist pulled it off. Up until now, <White Lion> had struck at unexpected angles, using bizarre, unconventional methods Shin Haebeom couldn’t anticipate.
But this was different. Anyone could see it was Jung Ryujin acting alone. The bomb had enough power to easily blow up a car, but piecing together the debris revealed it was meant as a larger-scale killing weapon. Shin Haebeom had already concluded: Jung Ryujin must’ve stolen a bomb the organization was still developing.
Why? What was he thinking?
“Jung Ryujin, answer me.”
Ryujin’s face crumpled. It felt like his scalp was being torn off.
Shin Haebeom gazed down at the small face. Covered in blood and bruises, swollen beyond recognition. It no longer resembled Ryu Yeonbi in the slightest.
“Was Gwak Hyeonwoo’s death that unfair to you?”
“Let… go…!”
“You’re the ones interfering with our work. Obstruction of official duties. Don’t you get it? Is your head too empty to understand? Burn this into your skull right now. No matter how much you call us thugs and gangsters, we’re special officers recognized by the state. If our work gets disrupted, we’ll use any means necessary. We’re allowed to. That’s the law of this country.”
“Law, my ass! It’s a damn privilege!”
Ryujin shouted.
“We were just trying to save them! The kids you’re dragging away!”
“Kids?”
Shin Haebeom laughed.
“Those punks roaming the back alleys in packs, harassing citizens, extorting money from younger students, stealing from shops—you call them kids? Don’t make me laugh, Jung Ryujin. They’re criminals. We arrested criminals.”
“Bullshit! They didn’t do anything!”
“How do you know that?”
Ryujin’s mouth shut. Shin Haebeom pressed again.
“Huh? How do you know?”
“…”
“That’s how you expand your influence. Luring in kids who roam around well. That club you run, <White Swan>. I know what you sell to those delinquents there. Ecstasy’s your bestseller, right?”
“…”
“Why do you think we crack down on those small fries? Use that head of yours if it’s got anything in it. That’s what it’s there for.”
Shin Haebeom shook the hand gripping Ryujin’s head.
“You fuck…! Let go! Let go, you bastard!”
“My goal is to dry up your funding. Make you disband and disappear on your own. No money, no activity. It’s obvious, but I figured I’d spell it out since you seem to need it.”
“Stop preaching, you old fart!”
Shin Haebeom stood and went to the sink. Turning on the tap, cold water gushed out. When it filled up enough, he grabbed Ryujin’s collar and hauled him up, dragging the frail body over.
“Good at holding your breath?”
“Let go, let…!”
“Should I expect a new record?”
He dunked him. Pressed down the thrashing thin back with his knee.
Shin Haebeom tightened his grip. The metal sink rattled violently. Bubbles rose to the surface. The resistance was stronger than expected. He gripped Ryujin’s hair harder. His elbow plunged into the water too.
He knew Jin Chiwoo was itching to barge into the interrogation room. But Shin Haebeom wouldn’t allow it. Right now, he wanted to be alone with Jung Ryujin. He still hadn’t asked the important questions.
When Shin Haebeom’s hand loosened, Ryujin’s head burst through the surface. Water poured from his nose and mouth. He coughed as if he’d hack up his guts.
Shin Haebeom forcibly turned Ryujin’s head. Red veins stood out starkly in his whites.
“Now you’re a bit quieter.”
Ryujin spat. The saliva slid down Shin Haebeom’s nose.
The small head went back under. The resistance was still fierce. Shin Haebeom slammed Ryujin’s head against the sink bottom repeatedly. Until the water turned red and blood-tinged bubbles floated on the surface.
Ryujin’s face was a wreck. Burst capillaries painted his forehead, temples, and cheeks a vivid red. Blood-mixed saliva dripped from his split lips.
A smile spread across Shin Haebeom’s face. He repeated his earlier words.
“Now you’re a bit quieter.”
✶⋆.˚
Ha Shinsung’s hand trembled as he held the joint pledge. Below the five team leaders’ names, the familiar handwriting was unmistakably Ryujin’s.
He looked up. The deepest part of the club, Ha Sungrok’s room where the leaders’ meeting had taken place, was thick with the scent of Cuban cigars. Ha Shinsung swallowed his rising anger and stared at his father’s face.
“You didn’t expect him to come back alive, did you?”
“That’s the nature of our work.”
“Was this your plan from the start? Jung Ryujin?”
“…”
“If that was the case, why hand him over to me? You could’ve just fed him scraps and sent him off. Why make me take him in and teach him all this?”
“It wasn’t forced. That kid wanted revenge himself, so I just gave him the chance.”
“Gave him a chance? Not forced?”
Ha Shinsung didn’t hide his sneer.
“Making an offer like that to a kid who thinks Gwak Hyeonwoo died because of him is as good as forcing him.”
Ha Shinsung crumpled the pledge and threw it. Ha Sungrok’s eyebrow shot up.
“What’s this?”
“When did you become this kind of person, Father? Using people up and tossing them aside—you used to hate that more than anything.”
“Sung-ah.”
“Are you scared of Cha Moeun? Did he demand you push Jung Ryujin? Said he wouldn’t work otherwise? Looks like he’s getting along great with the planning team leader. Since when were they so tight? Did you know about that?”
“Don’t speak so recklessly.”
“Then you tell me. What’s going to happen to Jung Ryujin now?”
Ha Sungrok’s lips sealed shut.
“…Are you giving up on him?”
Despair flooded Ha Shinsung’s heart.
“Say something! Don’t just stare at me like that!”
The table shook. Ha Shinsung’s fist trembled. Ha Sungrok gazed at his son’s face steadily.
“Since when did you become someone swayed by emotions like this?”
“What?”
“I shouldn’t have entrusted him to you.”
“What are you saying right now?”
Ha Sungrok stood and walked to the window. His profile glowed red under the night street’s vibrant neon signs.
“I knew what you were doing to that kid.”
Ha Shinsung was speechless. An unexpected punch landed. His face burned with heat.
“Father!”
“What are you raising your voice for when you’ve got no right!”
“Who said that…”
“Are you going to deny it? Say he came onto you first? Give it up! You want to stoop that low as a man?!”
Ha Sungrok spat out roughly.