When Our Bodies Finally Go (2 / 2)
The lights flicker on.
“You look horrible.”
Jongin watches the short man clutch the side of his trousers in surprise, and he laughs. “Didn’t see me coming, did you?” Jongin teases. “You’re getting a little sloppy for the job, old man.”
The Deputy Chief sighs then scowls at him deeply. He says, “Who is it exactly that I am having the pleasure of seeing? Is it Kim Jongin, or is it Kai?”
“Does it matter?”
“I suppose you didn’t understand,” Junmyeon replies. He extracts himself from his coat and lets it dangle down from the hanger as he takes off his work shoes. “I’m asking whether I’m talking to Kim Jongin, the undercover cop, or Kai, the infamous drug dealer who had murdered thirty men?”
Jongin snaps his mouth to form a derisive snarl. “I’ve never killed anybody. You of all people know that.”
Junmyeon cocks an eyebrow, his expression calm. “So are you going to start now?” he questions. “Did you come here to kill me, Jongin?”
“I thought I’ve told you to keep Kyungsoo out of this! That was our deal. I gave you the exact location and the exact time for the meeting, even got my leg busted for this mission-and I find out you sent Kyungsoo as your hunting dog? To chase after me? Are you insane?”
“It’s all in a day’s work, my friend.”
“Kyungsoo shouldn’t be dragged into this world! That’s why I took this job in the first place!”
“You needed a little push,” Junmyeon states airily. “We obviously don’t have time left. There is going to be a reshuffling at the end of the year. As Deputy Chief, it is my duty to see this operation to the end with great success before that happens. You have failed to pin down The General’s hidden factory and all the other illegal businesses in his corporate web. I will not let that happen again.”
“Don’t wheel me in in your military politics, Junmyeon. That’s your problem,” Jongin counters. A vein pulses on his forehead angrily. “Dismiss Kyungsoo from the case immediately or I won’t help you. And send Sehun back to me. I need him.”
“You know I can’t free him with all the circumstantial evidence pointing against him. You have only your own carelessness to blame. And Senior Inspector Do Kyungsoo has already invested so much time and effort in the case. What a waste it would be to-”
Before he can finish, Jongin has already taken out his loaded Taurus .40 and pointed it to Junmyeon’s forehead. “When Kyungsoo graduated from the academy, you promised you’d keep him safe!” He clicks off the safety from his gun and shouts, “I’ve risked my life for your undercover task force in exchange for his protection, but what are you doing right now? I did all the dirty work for you and this is how you repay me?”
“Ahh,” Junmyeon nods, eyeing the gun calmly. “So I’m talking to Kai after all.”
“I will kill you, Junmyeon. I will kill you if I have to!”
“And turn into a renegade? Will you be willing to trade those five years in the field for that? No, boy. Finish the mission. Get all of The General’s documents in line. Get him to kneel down to justice. This is what you ought to do, and Kyungsoo would do his own job as well. Finish this before the month ends.”
“Chief Junmyeon!” Jongin yells as loud as he could, but is sounds despondent, like a part of him has already given up. The gun is shaking violently in his hand.
“Never forget who you are, who and what you are working for,” Junmyeon tells him. “When you finish this, you will be back to your rightful place in the police. All of the charges against your parents would be cleared, and the whole SMPA would know of your bravery. Kai will be gone forever, and Kim Jongin will be back from the underworld. You’ll be free again.”
The steady stream of hot tears is dripping mutedly against the carpeted floor. Jongin’s desperate panting echoes inside the living room, sounding like the howls of a wounded animal. He hates to be like this in front of the steel-hearted Deputy Chief of Police, hates being exposed to such an unfeeling creature while he breaks down in despair.
The gun drops to the floor.
“Keep it together, Jongin,” Junmyeon orders. “You’ve accepted to take the grit for the glory-this is what undercover agents are meant to do.”
Jongin dreams he is standing at the window of Kyungsoo’s bedroom. There are times he feels ashamed to be having these kind of vivid dreams-how much better is he than a peeping tom? -but tonight he lets himself be indulged, be taken by the false comfort that he’s next to someone he has shared his life with as Kim Jongin, the innocent, wide-eyed dreamer.
He dreams of the night he was sixteen and Kyungsoo was seventeen. They were talking about the future, and the persons they wanted to be when they grow up. Uncle had given the both of them separate bedrooms, but Jongin had been so accustomed to sleeping together that the old timer had turned the other cheek. It was unusual for teenagers to still like huddling together in a single blanket, but Uncle had been thoroughly convinced that the two were just simply close friends.
“Hey, look, Kyungsoo hyung,” Jongin remembers himself saying, pointing at the stars overhead, shining through the glass window. “The stars are really bright tonight. Maybe it means something.”
“Everything always means something to you,” young Kyungsoo retorted sleepily. His stomach had been full of pork cutlets from that night’s dinner.
“Is it… bad?”
Kyungsoo laughed quietly. He had ruffled Jongin’s hair so tenderly, eyes filled with warmth, that it made something stir deep within him. “No,” he whispered. “I like it.”
“Oh,” Jongin exhaled. Kyungsoo had always answered his questions as short as he possibly could, but to him it’s okay. He’s glad.
He sidled a little to Kyungsoo, bravely asking, “So, do you like me?”
Kyungsoo had stiffened the slightest for a moment, before leaning in to kiss Jongin’s temple. “Yes.”
Jongin exhaled again. “That’s great.” He wrapped an arm around Kyungsoo’s shoulders, keeping the shorter boy close. “We’ll be together then.”
Kyungsoo relaxed under him. His eyes were already closed, ready for sleep. “Okay,” he said.
It had been easy back then, when all they know was that everything would be okay if they had each other. But the streetlights from the sidewalk across their tiny home had cast long, oblique shadows. It stretched and stretched, until it covered and suffocated what had been the start of a good dream.
Jongin opens his eyes, the bags under it weighing him down. His mind is filled with that singular dream-he can feel his heart both yearning to ache and yearning to heal. The image of him and Kyungsoo cuddled together slowly flares, until it vanishes.
He thinks of Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo still hates Jongin; he had betrayed him, after all. And now, Kyungsoo probably hates Kai as well. The only contest there would be is which one he will hate the most.
Jongdae had suggested meeting Jongin at a local zoo as a place to meet. Once the professor’s car had arrived, they both present their tickets to the saleslady and scan around the vicinity.
“Your problem, Kai, is that you need something stronger to ground you,” Jongdae says. “It’s the backbone of commitment.”
Jongin, who is staring at a bunch of wild beasts frolicking around the muck, shakes his head. “Isn’t Kyungsoo strong enough? I don’t think I need other things. It’ll only give me some self-imposed limit that I can’t afford to have, especially with the deadline Junmyeon gave me.”
Jongdae shrugs. “I don’t know what you went through that made you have this Kai identity, and believe me I don’t even want to know. I honestly think I won’t understand. But it’s clear that it’s a part of you, something innate that you won’t be able to cut yourself from. It’s what sets you apart from the rest of us.”
“Are you saying that I’m very much Kai as much as I am Jongin?” He shudders involuntarily. “Do you mean I’m really Kai-and that Kim Jongin would’ve turned into him no matter what happened?”
“Well, your parents were well-known drug syndicates. Even if they really didn’t bomb a provincial bus and killed hundreds of people, they’re still criminals,” Jongdae explains, looking ahead. “If they hadn’t been imprisoned and had brought you up themselves, then you would’ve ended up as someone equally nefarious, or probably someone scarier.
“And say, if they did get captured, and Kyungsoo-ssi hadn’t found you that day hiding inside his uncle’s truck, would the Kai everybody in this community fears be any different from that person?”
Jongin stops midway in his strolling, listens to the dozens of voices screeching in delight at some monkey performing an exhibition. The idea is all too new to him, and it both settles him and haunts him. Kyungsoo really had been the reason why there is a Kim Jongin, the generator that had hung, flesh out, giving him life-without him, there would only be Kai, and deceit, and murder.
“All I’m trying to say to you is this: it looks like Kyungsoo-ssi is much more than just the center of your story,” Jongdae clears his throat. “Ensuring that his life is well is too weak. Wouldn’t it be nice if you’d come out of the picture with him? Together?”
The cemetery stands on the south side Jongno, bounded by the tall, native deciduous trees on the west, and a shallow pool on the east. The regularity of the plots of the graves is somewhat peculiar for the westerners, but it’s the same grassy hillock styled by Korean minimalism. Kyungsoo likes walking around cemeteries, no matter how weird it seems. The soft pruning of twigs against twigs and the cool balm of the breeze on his face soothe him better than any calming tea.
When he’s a few plots closer to his uncle’s grave, Kyungsoo stops dead on his tracks, the basket of chrysanthemums bumping against his knees dully. There’s a man wearing a black polo shirt and grey jeans, his back hunched quite sadly. Kyungsoo thinks of other distant relatives who could’ve remembered his uncle’s death anniversary, but no one comes to mind.
The backside looks familiar, though. Kyungsoo squints his eyes.
It hits him. The guy from the hotel!
Foolishly, Kyungsoo's hand immediately flies to his holster. “Hey! You there-”
The man turns.
When he first sees the familiar combination of dark brown eyes and tan skin, Kyungsoo's knees almost buckle on their own. He watches pink lips curl up into a smirk, heavy, black locks framing the man's face too beautifully.
Kyungsoo's Adam's apple suddenly bobs painfully in his throat. "What are you doing here?" The words tumble out of his mouth quickly, sounding much sharper than he intended, but Jongin doesn't flinch.
"Paying my respects," he says simply. He holds out a single white tulip.
Kyungsoo shakes his head. "Leave."
"Am I not allowed to see Uncle?"
He snorts unkindly and growls, "I never knew you cared so much.” He walks past Jongin, making it a point to bump with the other's shoulder hard in the process.
It seems to strike a nerve. Jongin responds heatedly to Kyungsoo's backlash, "I did care. A lot. You're not the only one Uncle took in, hyung-”
"Don't you fucking call me that," Kyungsoo cuts in. "Everything you're saying right now is disproven by the fact that you ran away when we were seventeen! We needed you that time! Uncle was sick. I couldn't do it alone and you-” He bites furiously at his lower lip, preventing his mouth from hurling every kind of insult he knows. Suddenly, something prickles at the back of Kyungsoo's eyes. He hates it that he automatically gets teary-eyed when he's angry. Almost nobody takes him seriously when he's like this.
“I heard every time a person leaves, it gets easier,” Kyungsoo begins again, trying to reign in on his composure. “So won't you go?”
“Hyung-”
“Explain it to me, then.”
Much to Kyungsoo's surprise, Jongin averts his gaze. He watches the other man inhale, then say, “I had a new lead about my family. If you were in my shoes, wouldn't you do the same?”
Kyungsoo can't speak. Unlike the uncertainty that has constantly loomed on Jongin ever since they were kids, Kyungsoo was sure his parents were dead. A ferry had sunk back when Kyungsoo had been too young to remember, too ignorant to even recognize how important parents really are.
In the end, he doesn't know whether there's even a right or a wrong answer to Jongin's question. “Weren't we enough, though?” he settles with asking instead, his voice not above a whisper.
Jongin sighs. He takes Kyungsoo's right arm gently. “I'm sorry.”
Kyungsoo can feel his entire body shake. “You should've said something.”
“I couldn't.”
“Why? If it was your family, I could've helped.”
The hand on Kyungsoo's arm glides south. “You would've come with me,” Jongin tells him. “I couldn't take half of Uncle's family away from him, could I? Come on, hyung. I know I'm an ass, but I'm only half an ass.”
“And you never told us where you were-”
“Kyungsoo.”
Kyungsoo stops. Jongin's fingers are already snaking around his hand, nudging him to unclench his fist. The younger stares at him for a long moment.
“An 'I miss you' would suffice,” Jongin says. “Did you, though? Because I did.”
A whirlwind of emotions knocks the breath out of Kyungsoo as Jongin keeps his gaze locked on him. The blood rushes to his ears. Another ball has lodged itself in his throat, rendering him speechless.
Not knowing what else to do or say, Kyungsoo looks away in frustration, retrieving his hand from Jongin's grip. He aims the heel of his boot on Jongin's shoe and strikes.
Jongin mock limps all the way to Kyungsoo’s apartment. He finds it unpleasant but hardly unbearable. He put up with a lot worse than a throbbing foot brought by Kyungsoo’s angry shoe. After all the pain he’d caused, Jongin knows he owes Kyungsoo at least that.
The way inside is guided by plenty of light, entering a newly furnished living room made up of walls that separated the other rooms like office cubicles. Kyungsoo’s laptop is buzzing and running at the coffee table, a couple of work papers filed neatly into a stack beside it.
Kyungsoo is immediately at the kitchen, preparing to brew coffee.
“Don’t you hate coffee?” Jongin points out. He places his parka on the sofa, draping it properly. He remembers Kyungsoo hating it when he just dumps his clothes anywhere when they were young. He eyes the creamer next to the mug. “Especially sweet ones?”
Kyungsoo places the mug on the table with a harsh sound. “It’s not for me,” he replies grudgingly, the tips of his ears blushing.
Jongin nods before placing the rim of the mug to his lips. His eyes widen slightly when the flavor hits the tip of his tongue. The coffee tastes just as he likes.
There isn’t much space even though Kyungsoo lives alone; they’re both forced to share a loveseat deep enough for both of them to curl up on. Kyungsoo pulls a pillow against his chest, an old habit Jongin recognizes when the other is nervous. “What do you do for a living?” he inquires.
Jongin fights back a frown. Trust Kyungsoo to ask the topic he’d been avoiding to talk about all evening. “I deliver… stuff,” he answers.
“Like chicken?” Kyungsoo’s wide lips curve into a small smile easily.
“Yeah,” Jongin lies. “Something like that.”
“You’ve never really outgrown that phase, did you?”
He laughs, sipping his coffee. “What if I say that it’s the same to both of us? Look at you enforcing the law with mighty pride.” He points at the gun lying on the mantelpiece.
“It’s okay,” Kyungsoo blushes. “I just got promoted to Senior Inspector last month, but it’s nothing glamorous. I have to work on a heavy case no one seems to like handling.”
Jongin hums, trying to sound as nonchalant as he can. “What is it all about?”
Kyungsoo hesitates for a moment before answering him. “There’s a high-profile criminal named Kai. He’s part of the Black Lotus, a very large family-run drug ring. Recently we’ve intercepted a deal in Songpa-gu thanks to an anonymous tip, but he escaped,” Kyungsoo narrates. “Right now we’re working on his other deals in the underground market. I recently found out that he’s going to trade this Friday somewhere in Ulsan with a Korean-Japanese supplier, run by a guy going by the strange moniker The General.”
Jongin tries not to flinch. Kyungsoo already knows too much. “Isn’t that very dangerous though?” he questions. “If it makes you uneasy, why don’t you pull back from the mission? You said you’ve only been promoted last month.”
“I don’t know exactly what our deputy is thinking,” the other admits. “But it seems like he wants me to prove myself. Work is work. I can’t complain about it.”
“It’s not that. I’m just worried, hyung. I know you’re made of sterner stuff, but isn’t this mission a bit too dangerous? I heard Ulsan is a big part of the global drug trade; it’ll be extremely difficult.”
Kyungsoo chuckles. “You’ve always acted like it’s your duty to hover over me because I’m shorter and clumsier, just like when we were kids. You know I hate bullies, Jongin, and Kai is one of the biggest bullies in Seoul that we need to take down. And it’s not like I have a choice in this.”
Jongin looks at him in the face for a long time and plucks out the exact thought in his mind. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” he says quietly.
The elder sighs, putting a hand briefly on his. “It’s not like I’m going to die,” Kyungsoo assures him, his dark brown eyes shining under the light. “Besides, it’s not your job to protect me.”
This is one of the things why Jongin is drawn to him. Despite his young, innocent face, Kyungsoo is pretty fierce in his own way. But still, now that he’s assigned to apprehend Kai and The General, it doesn’t sweep over the fact that the man will face the biggest hurdle of his life. Jongin isn’t even sure that thick-skinned Kyungsoo will even be able to handle it.
“What are you thinking?”
“Nothing,” Jongin replies. “Nothing.”
Kyungsoo studies him for a moment, before relenting, “Alright.” He rises from his seat. “Blankets are in the closet. Knock if you need something else.”
Jongin nods. “Good night, hyung.”
Kyungsoo doesn’t answer and heads straight to his bedroom.
“His real name is Kim Jongin. Son of Kim Yeonwoo and Choi Suji, both local drug traders and leading smugglers in the Koreas port areas. His parents were arrested in August 1993 for bombing a provincial bus headed back to Busan.”
The General nods quietly, his back facing Yoshitaka as he reads off the report. Something about looking at the clear skies ahead from the window helps him to think, he’d once told Yoshitaka.
“Average grades in elementary school and junior high,” Yoshitaka continues. “Dropped out of high school on his second year. Nothing really stellar about this kid.”
“Go on,” he says.
“He’d been living with a family in Mapo in his early years. A man named Do Sangjun and his nephew Do Kyungsoo. The nephew is about the same age as Kai, and a policeman at that. Also, get this: he’s working on Kai’s case. Funny, don’t you think, sir?”
The General doesn’t say anything for a long while that Yoshitaka thought he might have not heard, but then he starts, “Why did Kai run away from the Dos?”
“It doesn’t say, sir. But he left at the same time his caretaker had gotten sick and died of lymphoma, so it might be because he wanted to break away as soon as possible.”
“So the nephew is alone?”
“Yes. Do Kyungsoo’s parents both died in a ferry that sunk years ago.”
Yoshitaka waits patiently for the General to respond. “This has gotten interesting, Yoshitaka. I’m amazed. Given what you’ve just told me,” he says at length. “This Kai person will very well be a serious complication in our cause.”
Yoshitaka agrees. “You’re right, sir.”
“But the question is, how much do we want from Kai? And how much do the police tailing him know? That is what we must find out.”
Jongin had been certain he’s tired-he’s sure that as soon as he’d turned off the lights he’d fall asleep, but there’s a buzzing in his ears, causing him to go to a jittery high. Every now and then car lights from the outside snap back and forth on the dark ceiling, bringing in shadows despite the blinds.
In some ways, it makes him want to run to far-off places. There’s that old fear of getting too close to Kyungsoo that it would hurt, but at the same time, knowing that Kyungsoo is just a room away makes the ice on his heart melt away a little. After their brief meeting a few years ago, he’s made a vow to himself to keep his distance. As long as Jongin’s job to capture Yoshitaka and The General isn’t finished, a baggage of sadness and longing will have to stay with him.
His heart is pounding hard that Jongin feels his chest is going to break.
The longing is too painful to ignore.
The door to Kyungsoo’s bedroom is ajar. Jongin stands up from his sleeping position on the sofa, convincing himself that he’ll just look at Kyungsoo’s sleeping figure for a minute, then he’ll leave and continue on with his mission. Just one glance, he promises himself.
To his surprise, Kyungsoo is still awake. Despite the darkness, Jongin can tell that the other man’s owlish eyes are wide open, looking back at his direction.
Jongin chuckles sadly. “Couldn’t sleep?”
Kyungsoo sits up from his bed and opens the lamp. He’s wearing a black silk bathrobe which does little to hide the creamy skin underneath, only succeeding to make it stand out. He shakes his head in answer.
For a moment, they stare at each other in silence.
“I lied,” Kyungsoo says throatily. “I don’t want you to sleep out there.”
Jongin pauses, then makes his way to where Kyungsoo’s bed is. “I lied too. I’d been thinking whether I could have you all to myself, but I don’t think I would ever get a second chance, do I?” He draws himself closer.
Kyungsoo shuffles the blanket on his lap. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly.
“I don’t want to lose you,” Jongin whispers.
Another moment of silence engulfs them, a slow wind of quietness that is so profound that it seems that they’re the only two people left in the world.
At last, Kyungsoo holds out his hand, and Jongin takes it. He takes Kyungsoo in his arms, running a hand through his thick, black hair. Kyungsoo smells of fresh rain and soap.
Jongin tilts his face, and their lips then move together, slowly, like an ending of a sad song. He places a hand on Kyungsoo’s slender neck, and the wintery skin instantly warms up at his touch. After a long while, Jongin feels the other’s hands wrap around his waist. He lets a finger graze softly on Kyungsoo’s cheek. Kyungsoo shivers, and the tears from his closed eyelids flow.
The belt goes slack, and slowly the robe parts, sliding off Kyungsoo’s shoulders.
If there’s a way for Jongin to pause and play the song wherever he wanted, he would pause it here, perhaps rewind it a couple of times. If there’s a way he could stop the coda from ever coming, he would. But he can’t.
So Jongin savors the feeling of Kyungsoo’s skin under the tips of his fingers, the taste of Kyungsoo’s lips on his. There’s nothing that he would ever want more but this, there’s no one else in the whole world who he would ever love more than Kyungsoo. It’s selfish, but Jongin hopes it’s enough to leave an imprint of himself on Kyungsoo somewhere. At least he has something to remember him by.
And it’s him this time who holds out his hand. Kyungsoo bravely takes it, and together they quietly tumble down the jungle of sheets.
Kyungsoo was right. Now that Jongin’s done it so many times, leaving has become so easy it’s almost a sin.
He wakes up with nothing but his bathrobe neatly folded at the foot of his bed and the pressure of the blanket on his legs. Kyungsoo is not exactly sad-at least, he thinks he’s not. He dresses himself up slowly with work clothes and heads to the kitchen without a word.
He’s surprised to find a plate of pancakes at the center of the dining table, with a note at the side of the plate. Kyungsoo recognizes the black ink of the fountain pen he has laid on top of his papers the a few nights before.
I might have burnt a couple or two. Sorry, hyung. I love you.
Kyungsoo sighs, trembling. Jongin had never really said those words out loud, but going by the painful wrenching in his gut, it seems to Kyungsoo that he had always known, deep, deep down. And maybe that’s why it hurts.
Han River is lined with bicycle paths and a small park, with the perennial tourists flocking the place with their trusty cameras and smartphones. The sky above is adorned with white, puffy cumulus clouds. Jongin chews on an odeng as he traipses around the walkway, humming a tune under his breath.
His rental Honda is parked directly into the opening to the main street. As he came to cross from the sidewalk, two men sprint toward him out of nowhere. A black sedan screeches to a halt when one makes a grab to his arm his arm, striking him several times about the head. They yank open the rear door to shove him in, but Jongin finds enough strength to resist, and ends up hooking his fist on the guys’ throat.
Suddenly, the car lurches forward. In a split-second decision, Jongin latches himself on the top of the car’s trunk, his legs trailing after him wildly. The car swerves back and forth, the driver desperately trying to dislodge him. It accelerates ever more dangerously as it enters the building traffic on the main road.
The sedan whips itself around a corner and Jongin slides off the trunk, his body now banging harshly against the driver’s side fender. His shoes hit the tarmac with much force that one of them gets ripped off from his foot. Jongin levers his legs back up onto the trunk when the sedan goes relatively steady, ignoring the stab of pain shooting to his heel. His right fist breaks through the panel on the rear window to secure himself. Chips of glass spray across the air, along with drops of blood.
Jongin grips on the panes and pushes himself through the ruined rear window. He lands inside the back seat at once, and locks his crooked arm around the driver’s neck, pulling back hard. As the driver struggles to break free from his chokehold the sedan swings out of control, hitting the left lane and bouncing off the right. The driver continues to struggle until he slowly lost consciousness. Jongin quickly climbs over the seat, pushing the man off to the passenger’s seat.
“Shit,” Jongin curses. He tries to maneuver the car, but with the man’s feet still planted on the pedals, Jongin can only steer.
There’s the fast wail of sirens. The police are already close.
In desperation, Jongin slams the car into reverse. It shoots backward to another parked car in the process, but the momentum only bucks the back wheels onto the edge of a Kia.
Jongin groans. He frees himself from the awkward position and checks the driver’s pockets. He can’t find proper identification cards and only sees a few gambling tickets, but then he sees a peculiar-looking tattoo peeking out of the collar. Jongin turns him over and rips off the guy’s shirt. A large, scaly dragon fully covers the man’s back, wrapped around a single cherry blossom in the middle.
Jongin knows this symbol. The same prickling at the back of his neck is back. “The General,” he mutters under his breath.
He limps from the wrecked car, willing the door to open his elbow. The police sirens are coming even closer and Jongin can’t think of any place to hide. There’s already a good deal of people flocking towards the supposed car accident, so he uses it as a smokescreen for him to escape the scene and veer towards the dark alley wedged in between two shoe stores.
His heel is flayed and his knuckles and arm are coated with blood.
Jongin has to either climb over the gate or shoot the lock in order to get out. But the burst of adrenaline is almost gone, rendering him unable to do anything more rigorous than limping, and a gunshot will alert the police to his location. He decides it’s less of a risk to climb.
“Freeze!”
The voice pierces through Jongin’s mind. No.
“Stop right there! This is senior inspector Do Kyungsoo. I’d have to ask you to put your hands where I can see them and turn around.”
Jongin lets out a shaky breath. He finds it both hilarious and cruel that they’re back like this in the same compromising situation, same stance, with Kyungsoo uttering the same words. But unlike last time, there’s no more chance for Jongin to escape his fate.
Shivering in despair and exhaustion, Jongin holds out his hands and turns.
Kyungsoo’s gun is aimed straight to his heart, but it slackens when his eyes came to recognize Jongin’s face. He watches as Kyungsoo inhales sharply, taking in the ball lodged in his throat, the sudden pooling of blood to his cheeks. He watches as Kyungsoo’s eyes snap to the jacket framing Jongin’s upper body-the same jacket that Jongin wore the day of the drug bust.
Same hair, same build. It doesn’t take long for Kyungsoo to make the connection.
“Kai?” Kyungsoo says, breathless. “You’re Kai?”
Jongin makes a pained expression at hearing his name tumble out of the elder’s lips. With his socked foot, he takes a step forward. “Kyungsoo hyung, I-”
Kyungsoo rapidly aims his gun to Jongin’s chest. “No!” His voice is trembling. “Don’t come any closer or I’ll shoot!”
Torn, Jongin stays rooted where he is and waits for him to make his decision.
Kyungsoo’s whole face is beet red but expressionless, unreadable. His hand tenses around the semi-automatic, as if readying to strike.
He fires.
Jongin had braced himself for the strong stab of pain to come but it doesn’t. He whirls around, and the lock of the gate is now lying on the cement, smoking a little. He turns back and sees just in time for Kyungsoo to crumble on the floor, crying hard.
The first drop of rainfall lands on Jongin’s shoulder.
“Kyungsoo…” Jongin croaks.
“Don’t ever show your face to me again,” Kyungsoo warns, his voice breaking at the end. His face is wet, and Jongin’s not sure if it’s from the raindrops or the tears. “The next time I do, I won’t hesitate to cuff you at the back of a cruiser.”
“… but-“
“Go.”
Jongin blinks back the water from his eyes, unable to say anything back. The rain is now pouring heavily, and Jongin has already lost count of how many times he had run away from Kyungsoo. Despite his injury and the downpour striking like icicles on his back, it’s still all too easy for Jongin to disappear out of Kyungsoo’s sight.
It’s still raining.
Outside, beyond the misplaced bench in front of the store, the fierce droplets can be seen cascading all over the city. Baekhyun is sporting a frown at his friend and senior.
“You have a debriefing tomorrow,” Baekhyun says. “I’m all for fooling around every once in a while-or maybe all the time-but how about if you take a break?”
Kyungsoo, with his soju-clogged brain, doesn’t seem to hear him. “Drink up! Drink up!” he squeals, laughing and hiccupping uncontrollably. He chugs down another shot and exhales exaggeratedly, not caring about the mixture of alcohol and saliva dribbling from the side of his mouth and to his chin. Baekhyun rushes over and dabs a napkin to his companion’s face, wiping it all off. Kyungsoo stares at him uncomprehendingly for a moment before smiling widely at him.
“You’re a good friend,” Kyungsoo chants. “You’re a nice friend. Good friend. Nice friend.”
Baekhyun steels his mouth shut. Something big happened today, he’s sure of it. He feels too awful to even offer some sort of comfort, knowing it was he who had alerted Kyungsoo of another Kai sighting from an unverified anonymous tip. Something bad happened while the unit chased the ring down, and Baekhyun knows it’s his fault.
Kyungsoo is now stacking all the shot glasses into a pyramid, and Baekhyun tries to put them all back together in a neat row before it topples. Kyungsoo is laughing loudly every now and then, but Baekhyun can’t shake off the feeling that it’s a silent cry for help.
Which is strange, Baekhyun thinks, because Kyungsoo had always preferred suffering in silence.
Kyungsoo pours him a drink and says, “I mixed it for you. Drink up, Baekhyun-ah.” He sloppily hands the other a glass, and the malt pours all over Baekhyun’s front. Baekhyun stands up and hisses at the sudden cold oozing from his trousers. The rest of the customers stare at them curiously.
“I’m sorry!” Kyungsoo exclaims, drunken eyes wide. He bows, swaying back and forth dangerously. “I’m such a bad friend. I’m sorry,” he says.
“It’s alright. Why don’t you sit down-”
As he grabs a packet of napkins, Kyungsoo trips over the leg of his chair and face-plants on the floor. He hugs Baekhyun’s shoes. “I’m a bad friend,” Kyungsoo mumbles. Tears are leaking out the side of his eyes. “I’m a very bad friend.”
Baekhyun bites his bottom lip and struggles to help him stand up. “No, you’re not. That’s ridiculous. Come on, Kyungsoo.” He lifts him by the armpits and hauls the fellow policeman outside. Kyungsoo keeps on mumbling something about him being useless and being a bad friend, and Baekhyun watches him in silence as he hails a cab.
A man taps him by the shoulder. His eyes are dark and almond-shaped. His skin is tanned. There are bandages all over his knuckles, and Baekhyun automatically eyes him suspiciously.
He gestures to Kyungsoo drooling on his shoulder and sitting on the porch. “I’ll take him home,” the man says over the sound of the rain.
“Excuse me, but who are you?” Baekhyun asks warily.
The man looks at Kyungsoo with mournful eyes. “We used to be friends when we were kids. His uncle Do Sangjin took me in when I lost my parents.”
Baekhyun grunts, pursing his lips.
“I just saw Kyungsoo by the window while I was passing through,” the man explains further. “I have a car. If you need an umbrella, I have one too. It’s in my trunk.”
Realizing that he doesn’t have much of a choice because of the storm, Baekhyun sighs. “The keys to his apartment are inside his coat pocket,” Baekhyun instructs. “Keep him safe.”
The man smiles thinly. “I will.”
Without Sehun, Jongin now works alone. Namil had pointedly refused to give him more men, and instructed him to man the embankment located at the southwest of Ulsan’s port area. Jongin rented a room in an apartelle not too far from it, with the two-story building tall enough to get a good visual of the location.
It’s finally Friday. Five hours later, Jongin will be meeting with Yoshitaka and his crew for the delivery. After readying the truck he’ll be using to smuggle the goods to the city, Jongin orders take-out from a restaurant serving excellent Chinese food and pushes past the brass gates next to rows and rows of doorbells. He goes up the stairwell.
The door clicks open. As Jongin steps inside, a blur of movement catches his eye. A man hidden by the bedroom door runs to him, armed by a thick-bladed hunter knife. He aims to jab at Jongin’s right side, but Jongin deftly evades it. He then slams his forehead on the bridge of the man’s nose, and the blood spurts out of his nostrils like an open tap. The man curses in Japanese.
Jongin drives a fist into his side. The Japanese tries to counter with a quick strike at Jongin’s sternum, but he parries it with a jab at the armpit and a kick at the shin, and the knife lands on the tiles. Jongin takes out his gun and slams the butt on the man’s forehead and on the base of his neck. Finally, the Japanese’s eyes roll up and he slumps to the floor.
Jongin puts a hand on the doorknob, trying to catch his breath, when he hears a voice from the bedroom say, “I must say, Kai. I’m thoroughly impressed. He was one of our best combatants.”
He scowls, spitting blood to the side. “That’s very generous of you,” Jongin answers. He walks into the bedroom, into The General sitting idly on a chair next to the nightstand, his legs crossed. Yoshitaka and three armed men are also inside the room. “The welcoming committee is a little bit early. I thought we’d be meeting at three in the afternoon.”
“Did you like my present?”
“What?”
The General smiles at him indulgently. “I heard the SMPA had already sniffed out your den a few weeks ago. I must say the new senior inspector is unusually determined to run you over.”
“That’s enough,” Jongin growls. “This is between the two of us. Stop using him to corner me.”
“How can I when the opportunity presents itself? I know about the Black Lotus’ plans. I know about the million-dollar project: the casino, the infiltration of that weak but deliciously wealthy auto company. I’m not putting you on a pedestal but the truth is Lee Namil wouldn’t be able to conquer even half of the city without you backing him up. I am glad he’s too haughty to realize it.
“Though you’ve exceeded expectations, I’m still a tad disappointed,” The General titters. “I’m sure you would’ve reached to higher heights if you didn’t let the senior inspector maim you.”
At this, Jongin throws himself to The General in fury. Yoshitaka and the others disassemble and simultaneously attack the younger man, punching him and planting the heel of their shoes to Jongin’s side. White lights dance in Jongin’s vision, and blackness start to seep up all around him. It’s as if he’s looking at the only source of light through the other end of a tunnel as the whole ground shakes underneath him.
“The police are coming any minute now. You’re truck is loaded with all the goods we’ve shipped from Japan. You’re welcome.”
As he feels his consciousness slip from him, he can only see The General, the man he despised most in the world. His dark hair, his porcelain skin, his cruel, round eyes. In the back of his mind, Jongin knows he’s lost now.
“At least you’d be together,” The General says. “Him in his office, you in a cell. Tell Kyungsoo I said hi.”
Jongin blacks out.
The room is dank and uncomfortably small. The only source of light is the small crevice in between the foot of the door and the floor. Jongin thinks he hears a mouse squeak somewhere, but he doesn’t have enough energy to look for it. He won’t see it in this blend of darkness anyway.
In the emptiness, there’s that tiny flicker of peace. Jongin has lost everything, but Kai is done now. Kai is now a hundred-paged paperwork inside a plastic, yellow folder, shoved in a storage box among others of cases stamped red in relief. Kai is a closed case, and most of all Kyungsoo is fine.
Jongin leans his head on the wall and closes his eyes.
The door swings open. The light streams into the interior suddenly that it blinds Jongin momentarily, turning his face into the palest shade of yellow.
“I was in the questioning,” Junmyeon’s voice says, sounding annoyed. “You haven’t told them everything.”
Jongin grips onto the jail bars tightly. “There’s nothing more to say,” he explains. “I’ve failed you. I’m sorry.”
“You haven’t failed.” Junmyeon insists. “You aren’t done. The General is still at large. There is still more you can do-”
“My cover’s been blown. I’ve been captured-”
“You are part of the police, or have you forgotten? I can still convince the board to set you free. Just get yourself back on track and stop him.”
Jongin holds his breath, before arguing, “I can’t do it, Junmyeon. I honestly can’t. I’m okay with rotting in here for a decade, but don’t send me out to that assignment again. Not while Kyungsoo’s working on that case. It’s not something I can handle without messing up.”
“Is protecting Kyungsoo that important?” Junmyeon remarks. “You can’t keep the truth from him forever. You are an undercover agent, Jongin, and you know this.”
As vicious as Junmyeon can be, there’s always that spiteful truth that’s ringing in his words. He knows he’s piecing up everything that’s been shattered, but Jongin can’t allow himself to yield this time. “I’ve already hurt him more than I could ever allow myself to forgive,” Jongin whispers in shame.
“You’re an undercover agent?” It’s a new voice, dripping like acid. The light filters in and it blinds Jongin again. His pupils adjust to the sudden change, and he sees Kyungsoo standing near the switch, eyes wide open with disbelief. “What did you just say?”
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Junmyeon tells them, his tone victorious. He closes the steel door behind him without a sound.
Something in Kyungsoo’s face reaches through Jongin’s ribcage and clenches at his heart, making his thoughts jerk to a halt. “Hyung…”
Kyungsoo lets out a shaky breath. “Tell me everything, Jongin,” he utters, fingers trembling.
“It’s not-it isn’t…” Jongin sighs, not knowing what else to say. “Nothing,” he ends. “It’s nothing.”
Kyungsoo crouches next to him, leaning in to Jongin close. “Lying to me… it’ll take a long time for me to forgive that. But if you’re not going to tell me what’s going on right now, that really is something I will never forgive.”
“You’d hate me for it,” Jongin says weakly.
Kyungsoo shakes his head, taking his hand in his. He juts out his pinky and encircles it with Jongin’s. “Remember what I told you? I loved you since we were kids. You left me so many times but I still loved you, Jongin, no matter what happened. When I found out you were Kai, my feelings hasn’t changed. It hurts, but it’s the truth. So stop thinking that telling me the truth would make me hate you. Stop doing things that you think would make me hate you. It won’t work,” he tells him quietly. “I’ll still love you all the same.”
Kyungsoo’s hand continues to pull him in, despite the metal bars separating them. His palm is soft and his hair smells like a place that Jongin has been dreaming for a while now.
“You’re making this so hard,” Jongin sighs in defeat.
The older one laughs stiltedly. “Trust me to make it even harder. You owe me.”
The General finds it impossible to stay in one place.
His nerves are stretched like piano strings, waiting for the breaking point. The brothel is already on the verge of collapse. The megaphones are screeching loudly against his ears.
The nighttime streets are already blocked, and his men are too dispersed for him to take cover. And there’s Kai, descending from a steel staircase. “It’s over,” his voice booms in the empty hallway. “You’re surrounded.”
The General refuses to back down, his desire to protect his empire filling him with inhuman strength. They fight with their knives. The General kicks Kai in the face and swings his knife at his side, almost giving Kai a punctured liver. Kai has backed away in time and retaliates with a jab of a switchblade.
Suddenly, he kicks The General at his bad leg, and the latter roars like a tiger, dropping his knife. Kai pummels him over and over until The General hits the wall with a loud crash, forcefully extolling the air out of his lungs, leaving him dizzy. His flies flies up reflexively but Kai is ready for it, wrestling him until his spine strike the railing, rendering him too battered to move.
“I can’t believe I’d be saying this in front of you but,” Kai pants, holding out a badge. “I am police officer Kim Jongin. You’re under arrest, Do Seungsoo, for crimes against the city and its citizens. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, but if you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you.
“Oh right, and Kyungsoo says hello.”