DongYang Department Store. A ragged-looking woman was dragged into the top-floor president's office, her arms gripped tightly by bodyguards.
They forced her onto a folding chair with a thud and yanked off her hat, revealing a heavily made-up face whose age was impossible to guess.
The woman in a suit behind the desk grimaced upon seeing her face.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"What do you think? Can't I even come see my little sister's face?"
"Cut the bullshit. Why are you sticking your nose in here, Si... Si-yeon."
She started to say "President Han" but caught herself and corrected it. Both of them were President Han, so calling out "President Han" would just confuse who she meant—herself or the other one.
"What, did you think I was dead? Looks like you were already cutting your losses. I heard you even called a lawyer to terminate the partnership with Oriental Shipping."
"..."
"The company's still running fine, so what's this crap? Oh, wait—were you dying to flip off the GeumMyeong Group completely? Like, 'We have no ties to Oriental Shipping'?"
"Yeah, I flipped 'em off and lay down. We've just gone public and turned the department store profitable—what the hell do you expect me to do? You fucked everything up, and now you're trying to drag down someone else's perfectly fine house?"
President Han Si-yeon gave a bitter laugh. All she'd done was follow headquarters' orders: buy a building up for auction at a bargain price and turn it into an Oriental Shipping outpost. But it turned out to be a building the GeumMyeong Group was trying to shuffle from one shell account to another.
No wonder the hired thugs had been making a fuss about handing it over. She'd trusted headquarters and told them to fuck off, never imagining they'd come charging in with guns.
It was such an unexpected ambush that she hadn't even fought back—she'd barely managed to escape while scrambling to get her employees out.
Since this mess happened following headquarters' orders, would they come to her rescue? Or maybe her sister would help? Fuck that shit—President Han Si-yeon didn't expect jack from either.
Headquarters wouldn't have given the order without knowing this could happen. In short, she'd been discarded like a used rag.
And her sister knew damn well what was up.
"You'd better get the hell out while I'm asking nicely. Or I'll kill you myself."
Why the hell would she shelter someone headquarters had abandoned, someone the mighty GeumMyeong Group—a top Korean conglomerate—was hunting with fire in their eyes? Hell, letting her into the department store in the first place was risky.
The GeumMyeong Group spread their influence everywhere with small-time crooks. Did she think DongYang Department Store was clean? That bastard Kim Sa-jang would use every dirty trick he'd learned from the National Intelligence Service.
"Why do you keep saying 'you'? It hurts my feelings, sis. Call me 'sis' for once."
Click—President Han—the younger one, that is—pulled out a revolver and aimed it.
Han Si-yeon snorted at the sight of the trembling gun barrel, either from nerves or weak arms.
"Fuck off. If you don't wanna die."
"Call me 'sis.' You used to do it all the time. What happened to my sweet little sis?"
"Ah! Get out, sis! Now!"
"Heh heh heh heh. Fine, I'll go. But before I do, grant your sis one little favor."
"Sis! For real!"
Why the fuck is this psycho doing this to me?
The sisters had entered Korea together fifteen years ago, but all initial headquarters support went to the older one running the shipping line. While she poured astronomical budgets and time into building a foothold in Korea's hyper-competitive department store market—full of massive chains—headquarters' help was one thing, but she'd never gotten even a scrap from her own sister.
And now? After getting her ass kicked by the Koreans and facing death, she comes crawling for help? 'Cause we're sisters, right? This crazy bitch needs to know her limits.
The younger President Han started sniffling, shoving the gun barrel closer.
"Everything up to this point, I built with my own two hands. Have I ever come begging you for help, waving our blood ties? How can you be so shameless? If you're gonna fuck up and die for it, then die alone! Please! Stop dragging me down!"
"I'm not here begging for help. I'm here with a deal. Something you'll like."
"Don't make me laugh. Sis, you've lost all your men, right? Incheon Port's already treating you as fired and running with an acting president. What the hell can you offer me?"
"If I get headquarters' trust back, I'll be back in the saddle in no time. Once I'm president again, I'll give you everything except the Seoul branch building—the shipping company buildings in Gangnam."
"B-buildings? Which ones?"
"Jakyung Tower and WW Building. You know, the 52-story and 40-story ones I bought last time."
The younger President Han swallowed hard.
Those two buildings were worth years of department store revenue. Four years? No, five? And that was just revenue—actually buying them would take decades of running this hole-in-the-wall store.
"Hah. That's only after you get back as president. How the hell are you gonna regain headquarters' trust?"
"Your sis has a plan. How do you think I shook off those GeumMyeong Security mad dogs and made it here? My spy in Park I-sa's crew says a rookie from their 1st Team escaped, causing total chaos. They're 100% pulling reinforcements, so the guys chasing me are down to scraps. I heard and U-turned for a frontal breakthrough—turns out only a dozen or so were left. Made it easy."
"What? That's bullshit. They probably just got complacent and left a skeleton crew. What the hell could a rookie do to suddenly need reinforcements?"
"That rookie's no ordinary rookie. Name's Min Cheol-woo. Word is, he's already taken out half of 1st Team, and 2nd Team got wrecked trying to chase him. You see that collision on the Western Main Road? That car explosion was them eating grenades and RPGs."
"What the...?"
Is she spinning some goddamn novel here? As Han Si-yeon's tongue ran longer, her trust plummeted. Had three days rotting in the panic room driven her insane? Even if Training Officer Jeong had flipped out, she wouldn't buy it. A rookie causing that mess? Ridiculous.
"Just help me make contact with that Min Cheol-woo. Set it up, and I'll handle the rest."
"And then what? Take your Korean John Wick to GeumMyeong Security and cut off Kim Sa-jang's head?"
"Hell no. Am I crazy? Storm the place guns blazing? Why are you jumping to fantasy?"
You started the fantasy, sis. The younger one was dumbfounded.
"I'm going to Hong Kong."
"Hong Kong?"
"Yeah. Fix the problem there, and headquarters can't ditch me. Worst case, I'll sell samples, recipes, everything to the US or Russia."
"..."
Going to Hong Kong... Yeah, that's code for 'going to die.'
The younger Han Si-rin's interest piqued hard. That Korean John Wick stirring shit in Korea, and her sister marked by GeumMyeong Group—this was a chance to send both headaches to Hong Kong in one shot.
Seoul would quiet down, and department store ops would smooth out. A little risk was worth offing two massive pains in the ass at once.
"Fine. I'll find Min Cheol-woo and set up the meet. But you got a way to convince him? How're you gonna lure him in?"
"Your sis has her ways. Don't worry—just plan the 2nd and 3rd branches. I'll come back from Hong Kong in glorious triumph."
Glorious triumph my ass. Don't use my name and just die quietly. Muttering inwardly, the younger Han Si-rin clasped her sister's hand.
It was a deal satisfying both sides.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇Rumble.
Min Cheol-woo's eyes snapped open at the faint vibration. He snapped to attention, scanning all four directions. Nothing unusual.
Soon his phone buzzed with an emergency alert.
EMERGENCY ALERTEarthquake detected off Hong Kong coast at 05:52.
Minimal impact expected in Korea, but southern sea fishermen: exercise extreme caution.
Hong Kong? That meant basically Southeast Asia. Normal for it to be felt in Seoul?
Normal must mean I'm not normal.
Cheol-woo quickly scoured online communities and SNS. Conclusion: No one in Seoul, not even Jeju, reported feeling it.
Of course—a Hong Kong quake strong enough for Seoul would've split the city in half.
Definitely not the quake. He'd sensed something else.
Or my senses have sharpened to an insane level.
Nah, no way. He shook his head, stretching.
He'd slept better than expected. No nightmares, no tossing. Future looked bleak, but anxiety was weirdly low.
He'd always been called calm, but maintaining it while hunted by an armed cartel? Unthinkable.
Why? Had the fear center in his brain broken?
His hand drifted to his waist, and he instantly knew.
Whoosh—drawing the gun, the heavy feel wrapping his hand, and instant calm washed over him like a wave.
The worries creeping up vanished root and stem.
Click-clack—racking the slide once, his breathing eased with a whoosh.
Why do drugs? This was way better.
Cheol-woo couldn't comprehend those pathetic junkies.
"Urgh..."
Every movement drew a groan through clenched teeth. Fever time must've ended while he slept; unbearable pain seared his gut.
Like an alarm for bandage change?
At least he wouldn't forget. Fuck fuck—muttering quietly, he headed to the bathroom and changed the bandages silently.
Still hurt like hell. He needed something to forget the pain.
Racking the Maigen slide wasn't enough anymore.
He flung open the metal case he'd brought, spilling parts everywhere.
Fiddling with the metal chunks for a while dulled the pain somewhat, replaced by hunger.
"Ugh... What's that noise...?"
"Oh, you're up? Let's order delivery. I'm starving."
"Hah... What a mess..."
Yuri woke, sat up, and smacked her forehead.
On the huge mat spread across the hotel floor, black gun parts lay lined up, meticulously handled by Cheol-woo with a clink-clank.
He caressed them like lovers, oiling with a rag so tenderly it was gross. She wanted to bolt just to escape the sight.
"I hate delivery. Upsets my stomach."
"I've got everything disassembled—I can't head out quick."
"Then you order. I'll eat at the hotel restaurant."
"Call if anything happens, right away?"
"Duh."
She tied her messy hair, changed, and left.
Cheol-woo debated giving her a pistol but nixed it. No point arming someone who couldn't hide or use it—might as well hand it to enemies in a pinch.
They'd shaken pursuit; hotel was safe. If trouble was coming, it'd hit while they slept.
"Starving to death here."
He'd felt it at the food court, but this hunger was insane. Daily explosive activity and stress causing binges? Nah—every meal like this said otherwise.
No hesitation: four whole chickens (tenders), two pizzas. Ordered extra for sis, but it vanished in seconds.
Still hungry—three jjajangmyeon, two rice bowls—gone quick.
Stuffed, but not bursting. Could eat more. Dessert: two soy egg rice bowls, ice cream, bingsu—belly full and happy.
That'd be perfect, but with today's action ahead, better not stuff full.
"Wonder if sis is pigging out like this."
His senses were off, hers strength amped. She'd split a thick skull with a knife, shattered a car seat with a kick.
Both beyond normal; this appetite made sense as backlash.
But food bills gonna bankrupt us. Cheol-woo's vision spun.
To sustain this, he'd need insane cash.
"Lemme check..."
Guns oiled, he wiped his hands and powered up his phone, left off overnight.
Missed calls and texts galore. Mostly Jeong Gwa-jang—frown city.
Tap tap—skipping indifferently, a long text chain from Jeong caught his eye.
◇ INCOMING TEXTS: JEONG GWA-JANG ◇● UNREADRookie. Good job on your first all-nighter.
Rookie. Pick up Kim Joo-eem's calls, yeah?
You fucking punk, where the hell are you?
If you don't report position, I don't know what I'll do. How old's your sis again?
You bastard, pick up!
Rookie. Think you can run forever?
Park I-sa offering to pay your debt? We don't take deals like that, you know? It's all or nothing—go down fighting or tuck tail and come back.
Every road out of Seoul's blocked. Land, sea, air—we own 'em all. Try leaving, you get nabbed.
Feel like talking? Call. We're not that inflexible.
— SENT OVERNIGHT —A snicker escaped. He could picture Jeong Gwa-jang's emotions yo-yoing by timestamp.
Sis snatch failed, him escaped—guy must be raging.
But the next texts narrowed Cheol-woo's eyes.
Rookie. Incoming call...
His breath caught. Fuck.
Phone rang—Jeong Gwa-jang. Cheol-woo hesitated, then answered.
[Rookie. Been a while since I heard your voice.]
"Yeah, sir."
[Shit got messy, huh? What a perfectly fucked coincidence. Shoulda just pulled the all-nighter and gone home quiet.]
"Not messy—someone tied the knot. Yeah. It's a goddamn disaster."
[Saw the texts? I know what you're thinking. Run, shoot, blow shit up, and we'll eventually give up chasing—is that it?]
"..."
[But nah, rookie. GeumMyeong Security? We don't just drop it. We'll chase through the blasts till we nab you—time problem only. Gunfight in central Seoul? We'll throw down hard, no sweat. Then draw a line: 'Subsidiary rogue op'—zero impact on group ops.]
"..."
[In other words, your value's so high we'd sacrifice the whole Security firm before handing you to outsiders. Get it now? Answer me, asshole. I'm talking here.]
"Yes, sir. Understood."
[Then cut the performance and let's meet man to man. You've proven your worth—time to renegotiate salary.]
No anger in Jeong's voice. Only then did Cheol-woo truly grasp who he'd crossed.
These weren't ordinary crazies. Fucking insane.
"Yes, sir. I'll consider positively and get back to you."
[You little sh—]
Hung up.
Return for salary talk? High chance of raise and reinstatement.
But they'd lost a sheep once—now the barn was ironclad, reins tight.
Tuck tail now? Buried in GeumMyeong Group for life.
"Am I crazy?"
Shaking his head, checking notifications—a new text. From sis.
One glance at the content, and Cheol-woo's blood pressure spiked.
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