A fateful encounter with a mysterious woman after a bar fight leads to troubling encounters that affect your relationships past and present. Just who is Kang Hyewon and what does she want from you?
- Originally posted as a short trilogy of quickies...
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It's close to midnight. Explosions, gunfire, and screams of troops fill the room. An abundant assault of profanities resound all over your ears. Fingers that have seemingly been trained for years repeatedly mash on the controller's buttons. Block out swears and trash talk. Focusing on winning the match is what's on your mind. There's no such thing as team chemistry—especially when paired up with guys who have stats over wins implanted into their brain, or players who run around with no knowledge of the game they're playing. No friends tonight; they're all busy despite the weekend looming close by.
The routine numbs you to the feeling of defeat. Get shot in the back. Rinse and repeat. These ranked opponents have some sort of telepathic connection with one another. It's just not your night. Five straight losses with a group you discovered on the Internet.
But you soldier on. Perhaps you can develop synergy with your newly found 'friends' and start winning. Reality hits you hard in the face almost immediately, evident with your now eight game losing streak. It's like the game is telling you to put it down, but you're too immersed to quit. Sooner or later it'll be five in the morning of the next day and you have to prepare for the 8:00 a.m. work schedule.
A ringing noise throws you off on your ninth match. Ignore it. Maybe it's just the wireless network promoting their new plan that you could care less about. You get a few kills. Your phone rings again. It won't quit. Finally, as the contest draws to a close, you grab your phone. Nine missed calls. Who could be calling at this time of night?
It's a number you can't recognize. Can't be a friend; one of them said he's out of town and told you not to call. Regardless, you're curious. Dial them back. A few seconds before the caller answers.
"Hello?"
To your surprise, it's him. Then you remember that he's left for a week and won't be taking any calls. What changed?
"Uh, hey. I thought you were on vacation or something. Also, you got a new number?" you ask.
"I need you to come over." He ignores your questions and goes straight to the point.
"Wait, what happened? Something up?"
"Please, I need you. So bad."
His phrasing suddenly throws you off. You've never heard him say anything like that until now. "Ah, dude. Is everything all right? You're speaking in such a weird way, brother."
"I miss you so much. Come over."
Even more baffling and questionable choice of words. For a second, you almost believe he's kidnapped and being held hostage. "You good? If this is a prank, I'm not falling for this shit."
"Hurry. I can't do this without you. Fuck."
Sigh. Can't leave a brother hanging. "Okay, where are you now?"
"I'll send you the address. Just come over and fuck—"
Beep. The call cuts off right before he finishes. Try calling again, no more response. An address is sent to you via text though. You tell your friends you're going offline before shutting the console down. After putting on a gray hoodie and some joggers, you take the car and drive to the destination on nearly empty roads.
