"It's so cold in here;
I don't feel a thing."
김태형 | Kim Taehyung
THE TRAIN SLIGHTLY ups and downs along the sparkling buildings in the coldest night of December, Daegu. Little Taehyung presses his nine-years-old hands against the freezing window frame, biting his nerves beneath his light brown skin yet he was so oblivious of the pain.
His small eyes dart back to the small compartment of the buzzing train. Mothers cuddling their babies, a man in a cheap suit standing with his tarted briefcase beside a couple who were busy snogging. The guy caught Taehyung's eyes and a scowl appeared on his face at seeing a kid sitting all alone.
Taehyung glared back like an equal, pressing his lips together tightly. Don't look at me, he chanted furiously inside his head, don't look at me, don't look at me!
Shrugging in an who cares way, the guy slides back his gaze to the window in front of him, ignoring the constant smooching noises right beside him.
Once sure the man was not invading his business, Taehyung grabs his mini black bag-pack and wrapped a protective hand around it, skimming his narrowed eyes one last time around the rattling compartment to proceed his stares outside the darkening sky.
His presence here was odd indeed, since he was all on his own with his bag. The red cardigan and oversized jeans were not enough to fight the roaring winds outside for him and will make people wonder why his mother did not dressed him properly — but he won't feel anything. His emotions grow minimum as he aged, like neurosis or euphoria.
Or love.
The eeriness of his existence there was disorienting the scene of the usual local transport people took, for they would have never see a child seated with a school bag, alone, until now.
Gradually, Taehyung started to feel giddy. Something was wrong. Anxiously he swept his eyes around to inspect his surroundings and realised with a pang of irritation that the atmosphere here was too quiet, too peaceful.
"Fucking normies," sweared Taehyung under his breath, holding his bag's zip with two tiny fingers and unzipping it to reveal a knife covered in dried blood under which was some mysterious package wrapped in a white towel. Knowing the smell of blood would travel in the rocking carriage, he therefore hastily zipped back his bag and slammed his back against the soft surface of his seat's back, smiling cruelly.
Killing has its own delight; the stream of blood flowing out of the body with ease as if a glass of water knocked down, last gasps and pleases of the victim like jazz music — or better: audio porn. The thrill ignited him in amusement.
How he loved bleeding cats to death!
The train came to a halt and impatient feet scurried to the exit, Tae waiting for the passing passengers' crowd to thin so he is not pushed around when departing the cabinet. He loathed when people pushed him around.
Finally when people bustled by with a faster pace and the exit cleared and chatters dissolving, Taehyung slungs his backpack on his shoulders and flattened his sweater, checking it of any bloody spots. Then he pads to the open door and hopped out of the train, feeling the metal of his knife grazing his back through the leather and cotton when his feet landed on the concrete platform.
The map of Daegu engraved behind his eyelids, he knowingly approaches the club after a block's walk that read in yellowing sticker that flapped threateningly in the howling wind:
CLOSED!
Come Back
Again, Loser!
CCBAL: Crime Consortium for Badass Law-breakers, it clicked him.
His father, puffing cigar and smelling of alcohol, swam in front of his eyes, "Only my dumb motherfucker of a brother could name such a significant body with a lame one," he remembered him saying through his moulded teeth.
This must be the place. Also, which club closes at eight 'o' clock?
Without further ado, Taehyung brought out his small fist and rapped at the hard, wooden door. Few beats later, an ageing man appeared behind the door which was slightly cracked open to reveal his weak structure and one bloodshot eye, who growled rather profusely, "Who the hell are you?"
Taehyung didn't like his tone, but he kept the harsh verdicts to himself, pronouncing briskly, "Kim Taehyung," Then twisting a bit to let the old hag glimpse his bag, he stated monotonously, "I am here to deliver."
With a cocked eyebrow and underestimating Taehyung's age, the man widens the gap and gives a little shiver at the smack of icy chills hitting his bony figure, stepping aside to let the other in, closing it quickly once Taehyung squeezed in.
This was a remarkable hideout, but a disgusting one, too. The wooden floor was layered with so much dust beneath Taehyung's shoes that he felt its thickness. A long slab which was never bothered to be cleaned was piled with hundreds of empty beer bottles, all brown from the grime stuck on them. Opening in a vast mass of broken furniture was the dance floor. Even the dead fountain in the very middle was filled with litter.
Taehyung stared fixedly at the man that invited him in, silently challenging him to degrade the younger, but no insult came. Instead, the man gave a toothy grin after a while of observance, "You're really pretty, boy! I'll lead you to your uncle," he says gallantly, limping to the backdoor of the space as he avoided some sharp ends of random whatnots.
Sharp things were Taehyung's kind of things, but shards of glass here were useless unless it was the last weapon left. And, bullets are sharp, too! So indeed he was learning to handle a 'borrowed' gun from his father by himself. It brought a new kind of smile to his face at that thought. He was glad he chucked that gun in his bag before leaving his house.
Squirming to the backdoor, the man threw another grin at Tae, who merely scowled at the lack of rebelliousness this person showed. He liked some challenge.
The door opened, not in an even dirtier backyard, but a cleaner, properly dusted empty room with a single bulb hanging from the ceiling and another metal door guarded by a frowning man clenching his M16 rifle. With a hoarse voice he bluntly addresses the other man with Taehyung, "'Tis the kid?"
A curt nod and Taehyung was led inside another hallway, more brightly illuminated and the marble floor shining. Rooms lined the long corridor, each door guarded by a sneering face. A guttural scream emitted from the one on the left side and Taehyung started to slip some skips in his steps, a small smile settling on his adorable face.
The sudden change of his mood was not noticed by the invitee who walked passed the guards like he owned this place — which he surely did not. Taehyung's favourite uncle owned this place.
A single knob-less door occupied the wall opposite the entrance at the far end. When the man and Taehyung approached this oak door, the former's face fell in a noticeable fashion. He knocked twice, paused, then thrice with a certain rhythm Taehyung was quick to catch.
This time the door worked mechanically and slid slowly to a side to reveal a reasonably large office with a spacious table and more polished, oak furniture. The familiar nice-looking face and unkept mass of golden hair behind the table broke into a mushed smile at the sight of Taehyung, "Tae!" boomed his uncle.
"I fired a bird today!" Taehyung perked up, while his uncle started towards him. "And I brought the package from father, too! It's in here!" He unslungs his bag and crouched down to unzip it again, bringing out the hand-size small, towel-wrapped something and handed it to his uncle who now stood tall in front of him.
With a wave of a hand, his uncle dismissed the man who brought Taehyung in and was eyeing the package beadily. When the door slides back to its place, his uncle unwraps the clothing to reveal a roll of hard paper. A letter.
Taehyung scowled deeply. He did not expected this, for a piece of paper was too unimportant to be delivered by someone as trustworthy as him. Yet he watched wordlessly as his uncle's eyes moved along the paper.
Moments later, his uncle set aside the curled paper on the desk and squatted down to level his eyes with Taehyung's. He whispered, grabbing the kid's small shoulders, "Do you know what your father actually asked you to deliver?"
Since he was never out of answer, Taehyung's eyebrows came closer still, his mouth clasped close in reproachful silence. "No," he answered grudgingly in a low tone since his uncle didn't favour lack of replies.
Intently gazing at his beautiful nephew, Taehyung's uncle said in his loving voice, standing up; "It was you. You are part of this consortium from now on, Kim Taehyung."