Night (1)
Intelligence Director Jeong Yeong-gi stepped into a place called Nan.
It appeared to be an ordinary hanjeongsik restaurant at first glance, but it operated under a strict membership system.
A woman elegantly dressed in hanbok guided him through the winding, maze-like corridors.
The man waiting in the room was a middle-aged fellow about Jeong Yeong-gi's age.
He was none other than Jo Chang-su, the bangju of Baekya-bang. Baekya-bang was a sect affiliated with the Baekdo that had dramatically expanded its influence in recent years.
The two were high school classmates. They hadn't been close back then, but after crossing paths in society, they'd kept up a loose friendship for old times' sake.
"Come on in, Director Jeong."
"What wind blew you to summon me here?"
They usually met at a street-side pojangmacha for drinks.
"I always want to treat you to good liquor. I've been considerate because you're a civil servant."
"What's the reason for skipping that touching consideration today?"
"I wanted to talk somewhere quiet. This place lives off secrecy, so relax."
"About what?"
"Have a drink first."
"Spit it out."
"Your temper really hasn't changed a bit."
Jo Chang-su downed his drink alone and set the glass down with a sharp clink.
"Fine, straight to the point. Did you know Jang Cheon entered the country?"
Jeong Yeong-gi said nothing.
"Damn it. You did know. Why didn't you tell us?"
"Talking like you think I have some obligation to report it."
"Do you not know how those people feel about Jang Cheon?"
"Those people? Since when did they become those people?"
Jo Chang-su's voice turned icy with warning.
"Watch yourself. You might vanish in a puff of smoke."
Jeong Yeong-gi smirked and took a sip of his drink. Unlike Jo Chang-su, he set his glass down gently, but his words cut deeper.
"A martial artist without any backbone."
Jo Chang-su's face hardened. He'd struck at the man's pride.
But he swallowed his anger with another drink. Anyone else would've had the table flipped on them, but Jeong Yeong-gi was the director of the Republic of Korea's Intelligence Agency. Unless you were truly prepared to kill, picking a fight with him would only end badly.
"Yeah, that's me. So you be careful, Mr. Full of Conviction."
"Worry about yourself."
Jo Chang-su choked down a surge of curses and emptied his glass again.
"You know something about Jang Cheon, don't you? What the hell did he do to make the World Murim Alliance's Alliance Leader slap a seal on the intel?"
Jeong Yeong-gi chuckled softly.
"So that's why you wanted to see me."
"What're friends for?"
"Friends, huh."
Jeong Yeong-gi drained his second glass and spoke.
"Make sure to tell your precious those people. Stay quiet. Touch Jang Cheon, and you'll regret it. Of course, if they remember that incident, they wouldn't dare step forward anyway."
Jeong Yeong-gi finished his last drink and stood.
He pulled three 50,000-won bills from his wallet and placed them on the table.
"Looks like a fancy liquor joint, so I figured 50,000 per drink. Might be more, but let's call it even."
"Always so prickly."
As he turned to leave, he paused as if struck by a sudden thought.
"Remember that frog and scorpion story? Our ethics teacher told it in class."
"That was ages ago. Why would I?"
"The scorpion asks the frog to carry it across the river. Frog says, 'If I do, you'll sting me midway, and we'll both drown.' Scorpion swears it won't. So frog carries it across. But halfway, scorpion stings the frog. As they sink, frog asks why. Scorpion says, 'It's my nature—I can't help it.'"
"Why bring that up now?"
"Just popped into my head."
"You bastard! Don't act all high and mighty. Knowing it might sting and carrying it anyway? That's the frog's nature too."
"What if it's not a frog? What if it's a millennium-old turtle that knows it'll get stung? Would that scorpion venom even pierce its shell?"
"What?"
"Drink up."
Jeong Yeong-gi left the room.
Alone now, Jo Chang-su emptied his glass and rose.
"That smug prick to the end. Listen, punk—we're not scorpions anymore."
Jeong Yeong-gi asked a Nan staff member to call a designated driver, then settled into the back seat of his car in the parking lot.
Outside, rain was falling.
As he watched the downpour intensify, that day suddenly came to mind.
It had rained like this back then too.
Whoosh.
Jeong Yeong-gi stepped out of the car, shielding his head with his hand as he dashed toward the building.
"What the hell, this sudden downpour?"
Fourteen years ago, Jeong Yeong-gi in his thirties had been young and full of vigor.
Junior agent J waited out front.
"What's going on?"
"Thought you should see this first, senior. We requested police cooperation and held them back for now. Murim Alliance investigators will arrive soon, so we need to hurry."
Police tape cordoned off the entrance, with officers standing by.
Jeong Yeong-gi entered the building with J.
"Where is this place?"
He'd punched in the address J sent without a second thought.
The atmosphere screamed Murim clan house, but the plaque at the gate had been shattered and scattered, making identification impossible.
"Jang Clan Sword Family."
"Jang Clan? Oh, that place? Youngest BST passer ever. Right, yeah—this was it. My first assigned sect after joining. The family got famous when the son passed the BST youngest ever."
"Yes, you've mentioned it to me several times. That's why I called you first."
Though he handled other duties now, Jeong Yeong-gi still belonged to the Intelligence Agency's Murim Business Division.
"What happened?"
The metallic stench of blood wafting from inside already hinted at the horror.
"Let's go in first."
The smell thickened as they ventured deeper.
Jeong Yeong-gi knew it instantly. This wasn't one or two deaths.
Sure enough, beyond the first gate, corpses littered the grounds.
Judging by the traces, it wasn't one person's doing. A group battle had clearly taken place.
"All Jang Clan martial artists."
"The attackers took all their comrades' bodies."
"Seems so."
In the grand hall, the Jang Clan patriarch and his wife lay butchered. Jeong Yeong-gi sensed it from the bodies—they'd been toyed with cruelly before death. Not a death born of grudge, but something more vile.
Jeong Yeong-gi and J sighed, faces grim.
Corpses lined the corridors too.
At the end of one, another body.
A young man slumped against the wall, head bowed. His body was hacked to pieces, stabbed dozens of times.
A sword lay askew by his hand. He'd fought to grip it until the end.
Jeong Yeong-gi shook his head.
"Look here."
Directly in front of the dead youth lay a girl, also dead, her body riddled with wounds.
"The patriarch's daughter."
"She's just a kid! What kind of lunatics...!"
Jeong Yeong-gi sighed angrily.
"Jang Clan has ties to Gwang-sa-mun."
"Gwang-sa-mun?"
Gwang-sa-mun was a sect under special investigation by a dedicated Intelligence team.
A Baekdo sect implicated in various illegal activities, under probe for years.
"Recent intel on Gwang-sa-mun mentioned Jang Clan."
"So this is all Gwang-sa-mun's doing?"
"We'll investigate, but high likelihood. They're the type."
"Those bastards! Damn it! They're going too far!"
Jeong Yeong-gi clenched his fist in fury.
"We'll catch every last one."
"Damn right."
Jeong Yeong-gi's heart ached. Maybe because it was his first assigned sect. He'd handled hundreds domestic and abroad since, but the first always stuck.
His gaze returned to the bodies.
"Just starting their lives."
Staring at the girl's corpse, he approached the one slumped against the wall.
"This must be him. Youngest BST. Looked like a kid in the photos."
It happened then.
Grip.
The "dead" youth's arm seized Jeong Yeong-gi's wrist.
"Gah!"
Jeong Yeong-gi startled, staring at the youth.
The one who lifted his head was Jang Cheon. Jang Cheon from fourteen years ago.
Blood covered Jang Cheon from head to toe, face included.
Then Jeong Yeong-gi saw it. Jang Cheon's gaze fixed on the little girl's body over his shoulder.
Jang Cheon's lips moved faintly. Jeong Yeong-gi understood.
Calling his little sister's name. Or asking if she was alive.
Either way, he couldn't answer. Maybe his eyes already had. Your sister's gone. Your whole family—gone.
The next moment, he saw it again.
Thick tears streaming from Jang Cheon's eyes. Hot tears cutting through the blood on his face. The hand gripping him trembled.
In that tremor, he felt rage and grief beyond words. Deep despair at failing to protect his family.
Urk—Jang Cheon spewed blood onto Jeong Yeong-gi's chest, then collapsed unconscious into his arms.
"Get a car ready quietly! Hurry! Can't let word of a survivor leak! Move!"
"Yes, sir."
J dashed out.
Holding Jang Cheon, Jeong Yeong-gi said,
"Don't die. Hang on just a bit."
Ten days later.
Jang Cheon, bandaged head to toe, sat up in his hospital bed.
A normal person would've still been bedridden, but he'd started moving days ago.
Outside the door, Jeong Yeong-gi and J watched him, speaking softly. To prevent leaks, they'd only told the direct superior and guarded the place themselves. J came and went; Jeong Yeong-gi mostly stayed.
"Still nothing?"
"Won't say who. Seems like he knows."
"The killers didn't take the bodies."
"What?"
"Autopsies showed traces of san-gong-dok."
"San-gong-dok? The poison that scatters inner energy?"
"Yes. They couldn't resist properly—taken out defenseless. Investigating how and where it was administered."
"Cowardly bastards!"
"Why do it?"
"Investigation will tell."
"Sir, heading to HQ briefly. Back soon."
"Rest up. Good work."
J bowed and left.
Jeong Yeong-gi glanced back—Jang Cheon was gone.
"Huh?"
The window was open. Startled, he flung open the door and entered.
Thud thud.
His acupoints seized; he couldn't move.
Jang Cheon had hidden behind the door. No one expected this from the injured patient.
Thud.
Mute acupoint too—no voice.
"Agent Jeong, right? It'll wear off naturally in an hour. Sore for a few days, but no harm done. Don't worry."
Jang Cheon laid him facing the window, covered him with the blanket. To a nurse, it'd look like he was sleeping.
Jeong Yeong-gi tried to convey with his eyes.
Don't. You'll die.
Jang Cheon's eyes held no emotion. Rage at its peak looked serene.
Thus, calmer and more polite than usual.
"Thank you for saving me."
Jeong Yeong-gi strained to shake his head.
If Gwang-sa-mun did this? And Jang Cheon knew?
No. He couldn't face them alone!
No matter his prodigious talent, a youth barely twenty couldn't take them solo. Especially not still recovering.
Jang Cheon quietly left.
Jeong Yeong-gi didn't want him dead. The sister, Jang Cheon—too young for such futile ends. A whole family wiped out, none left? Too tragic.
Someone come quick. Hurry.
Knock knock.
A soft tap at the window—he opened his eyes to a Nan staffer.
"Designated driver's here."
Jeong Yeong-gi nodded; the driver got in.
In the car home, Jeong Yeong-gi stared silently outside. Fourteen years ago felt like yesterday.
He made a call.
S answered.
—Right behind?
—Yes.
A secret protection vehicle trailed. They never rested, even on holidays like today.
—Drinks at my place.
—Ma'am'll chew me out. Last time I was late...
—Let her.
Sensing the mood, S matched it.
—Fine, a scolding it is.
Jeong Yeong-gi hung up.
Leaning his head against the rain-lashed window, he gazed at the night streets.
A night where sleep wouldn't come without a drink.