No way, no way, no way, collapsing. . . .
My heart skipped a beat.
So all in all, just when I thought that it was over and I had attained some level of tranquility, fate laughed at me and decided to just drop another bombshell right over my head.
I gulped, my jaw trembling, as I looked up. The man took off his hood, revealing his face completely. The wolf-like eyes, slender nose and small mouth were all a handsome combination, but the bizarre thing was that it was a shade familiar, too. I'd seen that face somewhere, just a flying glimpse maybe, but I certainly had, and very recently.
"Who are you."
It came out as a statement more than a question. My voice sounded choked, as if he was strangling me already.
It's coming, though. It's surely coming. Just you wait.
"I," the brunet said as he tilted his head to the side, the enigmatic smile appearing in his eyes before it showed up on his lips, "am someone you're gonna either regret or be glad to be meeting."
My throat and tongue were as dry as sandpaper, and even swallowing didn't help. I'd seen him before. Tonight. I was sure.
But where? When?
"Hm. Good. You're scared," the man said soberly, scanning my face. "You're supposed to be scared."
The burning sensation. My eyes. I felt it coming. It was on its way.
I was done for. It was over. They probably wanted me and Jeongyeon to go our separate ways before getting us. She was probably in the same situation as mine, or probably already dying, or probably-
My insides dropped.
Probably already dead.
And I was going to join her. I was going to die too, because I couldn't fight back. I couldn't escape. I couldn't save myself. All I could do was beg for mercy.
So that's what I did.
"Please make it quick." My voice was barely audible even to myself, I doubted that he could hear it at all.
After everything I just went through, the amusement that presented itself on his face wasn't as surprising as I'd thought it would be. But it did bring about the sting of tears anyhow. The brown-haired man stared me down, and my eyes were just on the verge of getting watery before he responded, "I'm not here to kill you, Kim Taehyung."
Wait, what?
He didn't want to take my life? Taeyong didn't want me dead? He hadn't sent this man to kill me? What was he here for, then? What did he want?
And what about Jeongyeon . . . ?
"As long as you do as I say, that is," he added mildly.
So he did want something, that was for sure. But what? What was he going to make me do?
Dread surged through me as my mind came up with a number of possibilities.
"What do you want from me?" My mouth barely moved as I mumbled.
The man's lips curled in a sly manner. "First of all . . . answers."
I blinked. It helped with the prickle in my eyes, but that was the last thing on my mind. Didn't he already have all the answers? What more did he want? It wasn't as if I was carrying a very valuable piece of information with me. Or was I? But that just increased the chances of them wanting me dead, which was both frightening and puzzling, in different ways. If they needed to get rid of me, what were they waiting for? Not that I wanted to die, though. It was just that I didn't fancy living in the constant fear of being murdered anytime and anywhere.
"But . . . your boss just . . ." I couldn't figure out how to phrase it.
His eyes narrowed menacingly. "How do you even know I have a boss?"
I opened my mouth to say something, but I didn't know what to say. What did he mean? Of course I knew he had a boss, the said boss kidnapped me and my friend less than a couple hours ago, insulted her and traumatized us before dropping us at some random metro station that I didn't even know existed.
"I . . . Because . . ."
The man crossed his arms, lifting a demanding eyebrow.
". . . Didn't your boss send you after me?"
"No," he said dryly, facial expression unmoving. "I sent me after you."
My forehead creased into a small frown. Taeyong didn't send him? Why did he come after me without orders? Was he a rogue? Or on a personal agenda? And even if he was . . .
How could I help him?
"I've already told your boss everything I know," I murmured, sincerely wishing that my words didn't anger, offend, or vex him in any way.
Unexpectedly, the questioning look on his face faded away. For a moment, I thought I even saw his guard slip off, but it was back again so quickly that I wondered if it was gone at all.
"How did you even meet my boss?" he asked in a guttural voice.
What . . . ?
"He . . ." By now I was sure that we weren't on the same page, but I didn't know what to say. I barely knew what was going on in my life since the past couple of hours. ". . . wasn't he . . . the boss?"
His intimidating, wolf-like eyes constricted. "Who?"
"H-him. . . ." I stuttered. "The one who was giving the orders . . . ?"
He stared at me for a moment. "Who the fuck are you talking about?"
My heart thumped harder. He was losing his patience.
"Th-the . . . burgundy-haired man. . . ."
His eyes narrowed even further, if actually possible. "My boss doesn't have burgundy hair."
I had no words to prove myself truthful, and I knew he was going to assume I was making up stuff and then get pissed off and then kill me and then-
"Unless he dyed his hair within the last twenty-four hours," the brunet murmured as he scratched his chin thoughtfully, gaze floating toward the floor of the train.
Something permanent, I thought. Tell him something permanent and distinctive.
"He, uh . . ."
The man looked up at me, arching one of his well-defined brows once again. I felt like shrinking into myself, but somehow managed to speak.
"He . . . h-had a . . . tooth of gold."
The instant I said that, the outlaw's expression morphed completely. His orbs darkened with realisation while the eyebrow he'd raised lowered, the muscles of his face going loose as his head, which was cocked to his left, straightened up.
"That's not my boss," he half-breathed half-growled. The transformation of his countenance hadn't affected the hard look on his face. In fact, it was now accompanied by a sour aspect of detestation. Even though I was almost sure that it was only the look and not the emotion that was directed toward me, my heart rate skyrocketed. As far as I knew, mobsters are volatile and unpredictable, and he could do anything to me if he felt like venting his frustration.
And I'd just- unknowingly- cranked it up for him.
But before he did or said anything, the intercom spoke up in its cool, autotuned voice.
"Next station is Sangwolgok. Doors will open on the left. Please mind the gap."
"Tell me everything," he said gruffly as the announcement repeated in English. I realised his posture was now slightly different, a bit more guarded. "What all did you blurt in front of him?"
The metro started to slow down. Unconsciously, my eyes trailed to the doors which were going to slide open in a matter of seconds.
Could I?
Any minuscule amount of hope that had started building up in me went down the drain when I heard the dry, humourless chuckle.
"There's no use trying to run," he mocked once my gaze was back at him. "I've tracked you once, I can do it again. And mark my words, I won't be this nice next time. It'll only be easier for both of us if you cooperate."
In the pause that followed, I couldn't figure out if it was my mind that couldn't find proper words or if it was my throat that had closed in to block them. The train finally stopped with a negligible jerk before the doors opened as smoothly as ever. The look he shot at me dared me to make a run for it and pinned me to the spot at the same time. My legs were filled with energy in the anticipation of having to race, but tense because that energy was being stifled by my mind and the fear it held. With every thud of my heart against my ribs arose another thought, another question.
It doesn't make sense.
He came on his own accord. . . .
If he's not one of Taeyong's . . .
How . . .
The doors sealed shut before the train started to move, and I lost my escape.
"How did you find me?"
He blinked, taking a moment to scrutinize me. There was no smugness or amusement or humour in his voice when he spoke. "Trust me, kid. You don't wanna know."
Something about his voice told me that he was being serious. He meant what he said.
"Who else can find me?" I whispered.
"That depends on who else wants to find you," he said darkly.
Taeyong.
He'd definitely want to find me. Though I guess he already had the means to do that. But now others too? What means did those who weren't Taeyong's have to find me?
"What did you tell him?" the brunet repeated unsympathetically.
I swallowed. "He . . . didn't ask anything that seemed important."
His glare turned colder. "I didn't ask for your personal trivia," he growled. "What you consider petty or extraneous can be the most valuable information. Just tell me what you spilled out to him."
How was anything I told Taeyong that important? All he knew about Jeongyeon and me was where we lived and-
Wait.
He could still dig up more on us, couldn't he? He could find out anything about us. If he wanted, he could probably know us more than we knew ourselves.
But even then, how was any info on us that significant? We weren't important people. At the end of the day, all we let him know was where we lived and about Jeongyeon's father and-
Fuck.
"Jung Hoseok," I breathed. So that was the crucial information that wasn't supposed to be shared.
"Jung Hoseok," he agreed, and inclined his head. "What do you know about Jung Hoseok?"
What was it with Mr. Jung? What did he ever do to be involved with people like these?
One thing was for sure though - I wasn't going to work for him now.
"Why is everyone after this man?" I asked feebly. "What did he do?"
"Who is after him?" the brown-haired man inquired.
Well, a number of people.
"Uh . . . Taeyong," I uttered, and his jaw clenched at the mention of the name, making me shrink back a little before continuing. ". . . a guy at the bar back where the fight broke out." I didn't know if the brunet even had any idea about all that. "And . . . you."
Something about his eyes softened by the tiniest degree. "I'm not after him," he said. "I'm here to make sure you're not after him."
My brows furrowed slightly. Why would I be after him? After all I heard of him tonight, which wasn't even much, I didn't even want to ever see him again. In fact, I just wanted to pretend that I'd never even met him before, that I didn't even know he existed.
"And to find out who else is now after him because of you," the man in front of me added in a mutter. "And a couple of other things."
A pause.
"The guy from the bar that you mentioned," he said. "What do you remember about him?"
"I . . ." That guy now seemed historical. I tried to rack my brain for any distinctive features or qualities of his, but only one thing came to my mind. "He fought . . . good."
The brown-haired man quirked an eyebrow. "Good?"
"Um . . ." I licked my dry lips. "G-great."
He regarded me for another second. "How do you know he's after Jung Hoseok?"
"He . . . he looked up when I mentioned his name . . ." I mumbled.
"Was he the only one who reacted?" the man demanded.
"Yes." As far as I'd come to notice, at least.
"Hm." He looked a bit contented. "Now back to square one. How and what do you know about Jung Hoseok, and what did you tell Taeyong?"
I hesitated. Could I tell him just like that? Wouldn't I get on the wrong side of Taeyong if I opened up my mouth to a man who seemed to be hostile toward him?
But he was already after me.
And I certainly didn't want to get on the wrong side of another criminal. If I wasn't already, that is.
"Look, I . . ." I began warily. "All I know about him is his name and his profession, and where he works. And I know this because he hired me as an assistant . . ." Involuntarily, I took a moment before completing my sentence. ". . . today."
Was that really today? Even after giving it a deep thought, I wasn't so sure. It seemed so distant now, almost like a dream.
"And that's all I told Taeyong," I went on. "That he's a dance instructor in Bomun-dong."
". . . and that you're his new employee," the brunet completed, giving me a sceptic look. "So you can dance?"
My eyes averted themselves. "I won't be working for him now. . . ."
"Because now you've heard a couple of criminals talking about him," he spoke my thoughts. "And you think that he's involved in some deep shit."
I looked up at him reluctantly. His face said that he was waiting for a response, so I gave a tentative nod.
He cocked his head to the side, frowning quizzically. "But kid," he said, voice laced with mock uncertainty, "so are you."
I was. I already knew I was. Then why did his reminder manage to send another wave of dread coursing through me?
He broke into a crooked smile at my reaction. "You don't need to shy away from Jung Hoseok. He won't hurt you. He's a good man."
I knew it. My gut feeling said so. He wasn't a dangerous man. But he was presumably a man in danger, and being around him meant I was within the range of destruction, too. He wouldn't hurt me, but what was to say that those after him wouldn't hurt me? There was nothing.
But those who were most probably after him were already most probably after me. It barely made any difference if I hung around him.
And I needed the job. . . .
"But still," the brown-haired crim shrugged, "whether or not you want to cut ties with him is up to you."
I didn't know. I didn't know what to do. I didn't even know if everything that was happening was for real or not. Was it all just a horrible nightmare? It couldn't be. My imagination sucked, I couldn't even dream of something so detailed and authentic.
"Next station is Dolgoji," the intercom declared. "Doors will open on the right. Please mind the gap."
For some reason, I didn't speak up till the system was done repeating the announcement in English.
"This is my stop," I murmured, though he probably already knew.
His eyebrows shot up. "Well, in that case," he began, getting up on his feet as the train slowed down, "I think we should continue the rest of our chat on the platform."
Helpless, I obeyed. I didn't know what else to do. And it's not as if I had any other option. I could try and elude, but he took a firm hold of my arm when the doors slid open. His grip wasn't hurting me physically, but I could imagine- and almost feel- my skin charring away from wherever his hand came in contact with me, right through the cloth of my shirt, and I winced. It was as if he was tainted, impure, untouchable.
Well, he was.
The moment I placed foot on the platform, he directed me a few steps ahead and positioned himself right in front of me, his stance alert and watchful. His movements weren't hasty, but nevertheless swift. Smooth. Expert. I quickly ran my eyes along the platform, right and left, and noted that no one else had left the train. The place was deserted.
The brunet retained his grasp on my arm for a few seconds - right, to avoid losing me in case I decided to scamper back into the metro right before the doors closed. I realised this only when I heard the drone indicating that the train was departing, and by that time he'd already let go of my arm. Not that I would've been able to make that kind of an escape, what with his vigilance, but yet I mentally kicked myself for not thinking of it earlier.
Since I had my back to the track, he had his toward the stairs that led to the lobby, which ultimately led outside. No chance of making it to the staircase - it'd be impossible to dodge him, and even if I somehow miraculously did, he obviously ran faster than me. He'd left no out.
"What else did you tell him?" he asked after having examined my face for a moment.
"That where I live," I replied quietly, refraining from mentioning a 'we'. In all likelihood, he already knew about Jeongyeon. But in case he didn't, it was the best if it stayed that way.
"Expected," he muttered. "What else?"
My eyes strayed for a fleeting moment. I didn't want to tell him about Jeongyeon, much less her father. I just couldn't. So I brought my gaze back to him and fixed it there before answering as naturally as I could. "That's all."
He scanned my face in a calculating manner. "You sure?"
Even if I did tell him about Jeongyeon and her family affairs, I wouldn't be sure. There was that period of time when I'd zoned out, and I didn't know what other seemingly useless information Taeyong had acquired in that duration.
And yet, I nodded at the man with the wolfish eyes who was standing right in front of me. It was strange, how I could manage to lie to this guy, but not Taeyong.
The way he squinted at me was nerve-wracking, so I made a feeble attempt to change the topic.
"Why did he let me go?" I already knew it, partly, but I guess I just wanted a confirmation. He would know better than me or Jeongyeon, anyway.
The suspicious look didn't leave his eyes completely, but he did answer. "He didn't actually let you go, you know that, right?"
"I'd guessed," I nodded. "But . . . if he didn't really want to let me go, why didn't he just lock me up like expected?"
The brunet's expression changed. His guard slipped as he went into thought, and I suppose if I wanted I could use the moment to hook it, but I dithered. I genuinely wanted to know his opinion. But before I could make a decision, my window was gone.
"I can only make guesses," he affirmed. "I'll think it over and tell you next time we meet - if there is a next time, that is."
A shiver ran down my body.
Next time? Is it really never going to be over?
"What does he want from me?" I whispered, to myself more than to him.
He blinked, taking in my question, then ran his dark eyes down my body with a judging look in them, finally settling on my face.
I took a small step back anxiously.
"Not too bad to look at," he commented. "He's probably interested in you for a trafficking operation or something."
The extreme horror that struck me must have shown on my face, because he chuckled. I had absolutely no idea how and why he found it funny. The panic I felt in this moment was no joke - my heart seemed to have frozen, throat tightened to the point I almost choked, body gone rigid to the point it was almost painful. I was shaking with fright, and he found it amusing. The mere thought of actually going through all that unspeakably horrible exploitation made my blood run cold. And what about Jeongyeon? She was suffering so much already, and now this on top of it all?
The sudden tightness of my throat and rigidity of my muscles finally subsided in the form of a whimper that forced its way out of my mouth.
What did I ever do to deserve all of this?
"Fret not, little boy," the brown-haired man laughed, crossing his arms. "I just made a wild guess. And even if I'm somehow right . . . the main reason why I came here may be a great solution to your problem."
I didn't trust or even believe him. But I didn't want to become an object of abuse as severe as human trafficking, either.
"H-how can you help me?" I choked out.
The corners of his mouth lifted in a sinister way. "Now we come to the crux," he said. "You see, the . . . organization I come from is looking for suitable candidates to recruit as active members." His words were careful, but easy. "And you, my friend-" He gave me a pointed look. "-are a suitable candidate."
Me, a suitable candidate? He was surely mistaken, I wasn't even suitable for shit.
"H-how?" I asked tentatively.
He blinked at me. "You made it out of a freakin' turf battle, for fuck's sake, alive and uninjured, not to mention that direct headshot with the gun. That move was lovely as hell for someone at your level, the pleasure I felt when I heard that whack and that cry of pain was unmatchable."
It struck me all at once. I knew where I'd seen him before.
"And you did all of that with zero experience, am I right?" he questioned.
In that moment, when she was about to kill us. When I was desperately trying to search for an out, to find somewhere to run. That was when I'd caught a glimpse of this man. He was one of the two who were fighting to our left.
That must have been where and when he'd spotted me. Which meant he knew about Jeongyeon, too.
"Yes," I whispered in answer.
He gave a stiff nod. "Thought so."
"But . . ." I couldn't properly shape my doubts into words. "How . . . how does that . . . make me a suitable candidate?"
His head dipped to the side. "Do you really not know?"
I did. I was just hoping I was wrong.
He waited for a response, but I didn't want to say it. I didn't even know how to say it. Seeing my speechless condition, he decided to just tell me.
"Fine, if the word 'organization' isn't naked enough for you then we can refer to it as 'clan'," he deadpanned. "Or 'gang'. Or better yet, 'crime family'. Is it clear now?"
My breathing went ragged.
He was asking me to become one of them. Was I ready to stoop down that low? Was I really that desperate? Between being wronged and wronging others, what was I willing to choose?
"What if I-" My eyelids squeezed shut and hands balled into fists as I mustered up the courage to speak my next words. "What if I go to the police?"
He blinked at me incredulously, then threw his head back and laughed as if he'd heard the most ridiculous thing in the world. "You think we don't know how to deal with that? You think you're the first person we've set our eyes on?"
Obviously not.
How stupid could I've been?
"I'll keep an eye on you, and even if you somehow do manage to weasel your way to the police, do you really think anyone will believe the word of an eighteen-year-old orphan who has no proof or even a solid statement?"
"I can think of a solid statement," I retorted weakly.
"Of course you can," the wolf jeered. "A statement which, if you make, you expose your own shenanigans. Are you ready to let the custodian of your orphanage know everything you've been up to? Are you ready to face the punishment?"
I almost felt the pallor that took over my face.
"And even if you are, the only one who'll be suffering is you," he went on relentlessly. "Authorities, my boy, are under our influence, hence out of the question. Even if you do make the statement, they'll just shut you up and bury the matter. And even if they don't- which is next to impossible- and it does prove to be a problem, well, whoever said money can't solve such problems?"
He was the one who'd been speaking without break, but I was the one who was out of breath.
I'd never imagined my pathetic, miserable life would someday come to . . . this. I didn't know what word to use for whatever it was. Everything was going wrong, badly, irreversibly wrong.
It was a house of cards, and it had begun to collapse.
"Now, getting back on track." He unfolded his arms, which were crossed till now. "Before a recruit joins duty, they have to undergo a . . . Ritual."
"Wait," I murmured, still breathless. "I didn't say yes. I didn't say I want to become some member of a crime family or-"
"Oh, but if you refuse, you're nothing more than a pest," he said in a mock solemn voice. "And I suppose you're aware of what is typically done to pests."
He was giving me a choice - become a sinner and live, or keep my virtues- and more importantly, my peace of mind- and die.
What would you choose?
He chuckled at the look on my face. "Don't worry, I'm not straight away making you a member of our Clan, at least not now. In fact, it's not even in my hands."
My heartbeat grew prominent to my body, trepidation clawing its way up my chest.
"Right now, all I'm asking you to do for me," he said suavely, "is to kill a few people within two months and try to not die yourself in the process."
It's collapsing.