Twisted Madness (8)
Whiiiiiir! The Mercedes engine, notorious for its quiet refinement, screamed in protest under the unusually aggressive driving. Park Hyeok-cheol's hands trembled slightly on the wheel. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead.
Through the rearview mirror, a matte black Jeep Wrangler was chasing him like a madman. He'd already looked into it during his investigation. It was Kang Cheol-gu's car—one he'd gladly drink the bathwater of.
"Fuck! Fuuuuck!"
Bam! Bang! He pounded the steering wheel furiously. He'd taunted the bastard. Come and get me if you can. He'd been confident. Plenty confident.
But this fast? That wasn't part of the plan. The idea was to turn him and his whole team into a laughingstock across Korea. To mock and ridicule his incompetence to the hilt.
And then... standing beside him, laughing at the spectacle, would be her—Jang Yun-seong... with her arm looped through his, just like always.
Or so he'd thought. Where the hell had it all gone wrong?
Park Hyeok-cheol bit his lip hard. He could feel his heartbeat throbbing through his white-knuckled grip on the wheel. First things first: put as much distance between himself and the crime scene as possible. That was his only option right now. As long as he didn't get caught red-handed on-site, there were a million ways out.
I'm Park Hyeok-cheol of the Geonwoo Group!
He steadied his breathing and floored the accelerator again. Bam! Thud! A sudden jolt sent his body whipping forward and back like a ragdoll.
Ha! That crazy son of a bitch...!
Kang Cheol-gu's Wrangler had rammed the Mercedes from behind. Taking Seongsan Bridge had been a mistake. On a straightaway, the heavier Wrangler built up unstoppable momentum. Mass plus inertia turned it into a blunt arrow.
He thought of his Ferrari. It was in the shop after some crazy bitch rear-ended it not long ago. If he'd had that car, he'd have shaken him off ages ago... He gnashed his teeth in regret. If it weren't for that bitch... If she hadn't slammed into him that day...
Bam! Another metallic crash reverberated. It wasn't just in his ears—his whole body shuddered from the impact. In the rearview, the black Wrangler's combat bumper loomed.
This is the Han River Bridge. If things go south, we'll both plunge into the water... Is that fucker really insane?!
Screeech! Boom! Baaaam! Oncoming cars slammed on their brakes amid the chaos. Some swerved wildly. Paradoxically, the frantic scene unfolded in slow motion before his eyes. Maybe because of their insane speed, the bridge lights burst behind him like fireworks.
And Kang Cheol-gu was tailing him by a hair's breadth. He'd pegged him as a show-off backed by his police academy dean father, strutting around Gangcheon Station like he owned the place. A frog in a well.
The killer's gaze from his memories flashed in his mind, but he'd dismissed it as a mistake. A fresh lieutenant couldn't have killed anyone!
But this pursuit was too reckless. He was trying to kill him! Park Hyeok-cheol's hands shook on the wheel.
* * *
He bit his lip raw. The Mercedes ahead taunted him—close enough to grab, but slipping away. It shot off Seongsan Bridge into Yangpyeong-dong proper.
Screeech! Beep! Both cars, unable to fight their inertia, veered into oncoming traffic. Wrong-way driving.
Should've nailed him on that straightaway... He stomped the accelerator harder in frustration.
Baaaam! As they hit the intersection after the overpass, a city bus barreled straight at the bastard. The driver's eyes bulged wide, veins popping, mouth agape and frozen.
One wrong move and it'd be a massive pileup!
Screeeeech! Mocking the driver, the Mercedes whipped into the left corner with a deafening screech.
That psycho...!
Lift-off drift! Timing the entry into the corner... You had to perfectly read your RPM to pull that off. Rev to the limit, release the throttle for forced deceleration. With weight shifted to the outer tires, let off the gas... and send the tail flying.
He could almost see every twitch of the bastard's muscles. He'd calculated all that in a split second? That's when he remembered: Park Hyeok-cheol had a kart racing license. A madman with convictions was scary enough, but diligent too? He let out a dry chuckle even now.
Baaaam! Honk! Now the bus charged at him. It had braked once because of the bastard, so its speed had dropped. He had room.
Screeech! Foot brake and side brake together. The heavy chassis lurched sideways. The moment it spun fully to 9 o'clock, he released the side and floored it. The stench of burning tires seeped through the sealed windows.
The Mercedes's tail vanished into the alley. Accelerating off-balance like that... And then!
A toppled motorcycle from the bastard's drift caught his eye. Crash! The right front wheel clipped it, yanking the car left. Already tilted from the drift, speed unrelenting.
I'm gonna flip!
He kicked the right door with his foot, throwing his weight right. Left hand steering, right mashing the accelerator—he held it, and the car righted itself. The bastard was just exiting the corner. He gunned it.
3 meters... 2... 1...
Kaboom! The Mercedes spun over 180 degrees from the rear impact, slamming its nose into a streetlamp. Oil fumes and faint smoke leaked out.
"Come out, you piece of shit!"
A rage-filled roar erupted. It was his voice, but it sounded alien.
* * *
"Come out, you piece of shit!"
Kang Cheol-gu's shout pierced the crash's daze as Park Hyeok-cheol's face pressed against the wheel. The Mercedes's wind-minimizing design muffled it, but the meaning landed clear.
"Kuh... Kuhuhu. Hahaha!!"
He lifted his head, giggling. Blood streamed from his scalp into his mouth. He looked like a demon.
He's calling me out, right?
The iron tang in the blood filled his mouth—like licking a steel bar. Bitter. But it snapped him awake.
What the hell am I doing? Why am I running? This is far enough from the scene. As long as I'm not caught in the act, I can weasel out of a rape charge easy. So...
Footsteps approached. A familiar shadow.
Just deal with that fucker...
Hyeok-cheol's eyes turned icy.
* * *
Bam! The Mercedes door slammed shut. Park Hyeok-cheol staggered toward him, blood streaking his face. No serious damage, though.
Heavy footsteps. The blood-smeared bastard's lips curled up. No hint of regret, even now. Cheol-gu ground his teeth.
"Why? What's your reason for this shit?!"
"Kekeke. Does there have to be one?"
He spat blood and growled like a beast. "At first, I wanted you humiliated, finger-pointed, crumbling. Why? Kek! Because Jang Yun-seong chose you. That sealed your fate!"
His gaze drifted skyward. "I wondered why she'd take an interest in you. Simple: you're a cop. A damn good one. She's like a collector—gathers the weird and unique. Men included. I made her list with my rare 'fighter' title. I know she's no good. A Paris hellflower. But what can you do? That's the kind of bastard I am."
His eyes sank into shadowed memories. But the mood shifted. Intangible hostility solidified, prickling Cheol-gu's skin.
"I looked for the fastest way to smash a rising cop star. Answer was obvious: tank your rep as a cop! Kekeke. My model solution."
"You dumb fuck. What a waste. You think you're some shojo manga hero?"
Harsh words flew from Cheol-gu's mouth. The chaebol heir's easy-life sob story turned his stomach. A guy with everything pitying himself for lacking one thing? Self-pity was the pettiest shit.
Park Hyeok-cheol wasn't listening anymore. He giggled like a kid with a fun toy. "But rape? Turns out it's got a unique thrill. Started as a means to break you. Became my new game. At least for me. Kikikik."
His pupils dilated red. "Not the gold-diggers chasing my name or looks. Not the ones spreading for cash. But ones broken by violence and fear... begging 'spare me, I'll do anything'? Holding a trembling girl's life in your hands? That's a god descended to earth, right? Kek. Hahaha!"
His laughter filled the dark alley. Twisted madness and malice thickened the air. But a cold smile crept onto Cheol-gu's lips.
Your fate? I'll decide it.
"You done?"
"Huh? Done with w—"
"Your last words!"
He closed the gap in a flash, snapping a jab at the bastard's face. A breath-stealing punch. The jab: fastest speed, shortest arc of any punch. Tough for a one-shot KO, but perfect for gauging distance.
The bastard's eyes wavered. But! A paper-thin head movement slipped the punch. Cheol-gu followed with a straight, but a boxer's sway dodged that too.
Back at the hotel clash, that first high kick had landed clean...? A question flickered, then he nodded. A chuckle escaped. The bastard had been testing him! Just as he'd tested the bastard, he'd been tested back. Criminal psycho, but fighter-grade.
He clenched his fist again. Whoosh. Wind whistled. A looping left hook incoming. First strike a hook? Not recommended in boxing or MMA. Honest punch—neither fast nor deceptive.
The bastard's mistake! Muscles tensed for counter. He weaved to dodge and counter—then saw the eyes. Narrowed corners gleaming.
Did I miss something?