Chapter Text
Taeju
Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Don’t ask.
Taeju left the gym and followed Choi Mujin outside. The briny smell of the waterfront washed away the thick warm stink of sweat from Taeju’s nose. Mujin lit up a cigarette. They took in the gray morning and the view of the harbor in silence.
“What do you plan to do with her?” Taeju looked at the short choppy waves below.
Shit-shit-shit-monkey-tit-shit.
He closed his eyes, wishing he had kept his mouth shut. At least he hadn’t said Are you out of your crazy fucking evil mind? She’s 17. She can’t stay. They’ll eat her alive.
Unless that was the point.
Taeju drew in a breath and held it. Guess-what-I-want-and-make-it-happen isn’t working, boss. Use words. Tell me, you mean, gorgeous fucker.
Taeju exhaled, saying nothing.
Something was off with Mujin. But you had to know the man to tell.
It was Taeju’s job to figure out what was wrong and fix it.
Dong Hoon had had an instinct for what to do when Mujin stopped sleeping and doubled up on whisky and cigarettes. Dong Hoon could turn a mood swing around, make Mujin laugh. But Dong Hoon was dead and Taeju had no clue where to even begin.
Not this time. This was something new, different. Darker. Taeju felt it in his gut.
“She wants revenge,” Mujin said at last.
After a pause, he added, “Let her have it.” He flipped the butt of the cigarette into the waves. His face was like a cat’s watching something only a cat can see.
Whatever it was, it was real. Taeju wished he could see it, too.
Then he noticed. A single bright trickle of scarlet blood made its way out of the dark overcoat’s sleeve, across the back of Mujin’s left hand.
That explained the lightness. The damn silent Zen. Mujin had been cut. Somewhere, someone else had been cut way worse. Mujin was always lighter, less intense after bloodshed.
He’d been patched up too. Dal, probably, Mujin’s wiry old bastard private driver/killer.
It explained the beat up girl. But it didn’t explain why Mujin had brought her here.
Taeju hesitated, then pressed his lips tight.
Don’t ask.
Things had been off since Dong Hoon died outside his daughter’s apartment door. The secret daughter Mujin just dropped off at the gym.
No one knew Dong was heading to see her. Except Taeju. And Taeju had only told one person. He called Mujin after Dong Hoon took off with the car, breaking the rule to stay in hiding. He'd left Taeju stranded and pissed. Not two hours later, Dong Hoon was dead.
At first Taeju tried to tell himself there was no connection. He wasn’t very convincing.
The timing pointed to Mujin.
Still, it didn’t add up. Dong Hoon had been shot. Close range, police issue gun from what he’d heard.
If Dong had sold out to one of the other gangs, Mujin would have killed him. It wasn’t that. Taeju had seen Mujin meter out his own brand of justice with raw pleasure before. Killing his second in command, a friend, would’ve had to be harder, but Taeju had no doubt Mujin would do what was necessary, no matter what.
That’s where it didn’t add up.
Choi Mujin loved a sharp, shiny blade like nothing else. Taeju suspected there was something about being up close, driving the blade into someone’s gut, the instant rich smell of blood, watching the pain and shock in the enemy’s face only inches away.
At least, that’s what it was like for him.
Killing with a gun wasn’t Mujin. Killing with a knife was.
Dong Hoon getting shot didn’t make sense. Placing Dong Hoon’s daughter Jiwoo at the gym didn’t make sense. Not two weeks after Mujin had kicked her out of his office for not stabbing him.
That episode still had Taeju on edge. Sure, most of it was about scaring Jiwoo straight back to where she’d come from. But putting a knife in her hands, forcing the blade’s sharp tip to your own throat, demanding she stab you?
Worse, for a moment Mujin wanted the blade, welcomed it.
Something was off. It put them all in danger.
Taeju couldn’t shake the feeling he was missing something that was right in front of him.
Unless it was right in front of him. The girl. Jiwoo.
Taeju had to fix it. There was no one else.