I stare at him. Unblinking and stony-faced as my eyes darken and fresh rage pulses through me. Smarter men than Joo-wan would know to turn and walk the other way.
They would understand I’m in no mood for idiocy. Yet Joo-wan flashes his arrogant grin and continues.
“I have news on Black Shell. A man matching his description was spotted in Seoul earlier. He was outside some night club. He was wearing a mask similar to what you described, but then he disappeared into a crowd. We’re still tracking his movements, but?—”
“You’re telling me,” I interrupt, “that your big update is Black Shell was seen in Seoul and then vanished into thin air? That you once again allowed him to slip through your fingers?”
Joo-wan’s grin falters, some of his smugness fading. “We’re working on it, Jin-tae. He’s proven difficult to?—”
“Difficult.” I advance on him, each step slow and predatory, closing the distance between us until I’m close enough to make out the beads of sweat along his slicked-back hairline. “You’ve had a crew of men, you imbecile. Plenty of time and manpower to find me anything useful, and this is what you bring me? A sighting in a crowded district and a trail that’s already gone cold?”
“I assure you, my crew is doing everything they can?—”
“Are they?” I growl into his face. “Or are you undermining this syndicate from within while I’m distracted by grief?”
“What?” he croaks, eyes going wide. “No, I would never?—”
“I already fucking told you not to touch my alcohol!” I yell in interruption. My hand flies out and I smack the glass out of his grip, sending it shattering to the floor. Then my hand’s shooting toward him, clenching shut on his throat and dragging his face toward mine. “Do I need to chop your fucking hand off for you to understand? Is that what it’s going to take for my words to penetrate that thick skull of yours?”
The smug grin has vanished entirely off his face, replaced by clear fear and intimidation. The look of a man who’s realized he’s poked a tiger whose cage door is now unlocked.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” he stammers. “I-I didn’t think?—”
“This is your final warning.” I release him with a shove that sends him stumbling backward into the chair, nearly toppling it. “Get out of my fucking sight. The next time you fumble a task I give you, don’t expect to live much longer.”
Joo-wan straightens up, his hair no longer perfectly slicked as it falls into his pale face. It’s the most startled and humiliated he’s ever looked.
For a moment it seems he wants to say more. Maybe defend himself. Then he thinks better of it, simply giving a stiff nod and rushing out of the office.
I glare after him, hands clenched at my sides. More rage churns inside me, demanding I break something or hurt someone.
That I cause more harm than I already have tonight.
All intense urges and impulses that have been plaguing me for weeks now.
Ever since… I lost the only two things that mattered.
Instead, I stride over to the minibar and pour myself a rare drink. Liquor has never been an indulgence of mine, having always prided myself on being too disciplined to dabble for long, but the moment calls for it.
The soju is bitter and strong on my tongue as I gulp the whole glass down at once.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, notifying me I’ve received a message. I pull it out to find a text from Sang-cheol waiting on the screen, simple and direct.
Your person of interest is home.
I pour myself another glass of soju and down that too. Then I head toward the door, doing what I’ve done every night for weeks now.
The city is asleep, but it’s calming for someone who has burned with as much intensity as I have. I’m a shadow among the many other shadows on the dark streets.
Unseen and unknown as I move.
It’s late, well past midnight, and the neighborhoods I pass through have gone quiet and still—shuttered shops and darkened windows and only the occasional car coasting by. Stray cats come out in alleyways and pick at the garbage overflowing from dumpsters.
I turn off the main road and cut through a side street. I come out on the other side in front of a large concrete building that’s ten stories high.
It’s unremarkable and modest, with dozens of windows and AC units protruding from the walls. Most of the residents living inside are already fast asleep for the night.
Except for one window on the ninthfloor. That window glows a soft golden hue, telling me that, once again, like most nights, she’s awake.
