The True Colors of the Wicked Woman (3)
“Why did you save me?”
Yang Do-hwa, arriving at Actor’s place, skipped the greetings and asked straight away.
“What if I said I couldn’t just stand by and watch Dae Jeong San Jang’s atrocities?”
Yang Do-hwa snorted at Actor’s reply.
“Of course I don’t believe that.”
“Fine. Let me be honest. I’m someone who wants Jang Cheon dead too. We’re comrades with the same goal.”
Yang Do-hwa stared at him for a moment before responding with cynical bite.
“Riding the same boat doesn’t make us friends. Who are you?”
“As I said, someone with a grudge against Jang Cheon.”
“So who exactly?”
“Isn’t saving you enough?”
“Sorry, but no.”
Actor’s expression hardened slightly.
“You’re misunderstanding something. Right now, Madam Yang, you’re the one who needs my help.”
It was right then.
The door swung open, and a man stepped inside. Blood dripped steadily from the sword in his hand.
Actor realized at once. That blood belonged to his men guarding outside—capable fighters, all taken down.
Actor was stunned, but Yang Do-hwa was not. Instead, she wore the smile of a victor.
“Sorry, but we’re not on the same boat.”
With the shift in power, her politeness vanished.
Actor forced himself to stay calm and asked, “Then what boat are you on?”
“The Korean Murim world doesn’t revolve around just Dae Jeong San Jang.”
“Gangnam-il-mun!”
Yang Do-hwa nodded.
Actor was caught off guard by the unexpected emergence of Gangnam-il-mun. He hadn’t seen that coming.
Soon, he pieced it together.
“So the demand to go on broadcast was their doing too.”
“Right.”
No wonder Yang Do-hwa had pushed back against Dae Jeong San Jang so fearlessly. She might have gotten away with the online post, but going public on TV was a bold, unforeseen move.
“What if I hadn’t contacted you?”
“This guy would’ve protected me. So you didn’t save me. I wasn’t fated to die today.”
The man who’d entered with the sword was the expert dispatched from Gangnam-il-mun.
Actor pressed her. “Would they really have let you live? If their target was Dae Jeong San Jang, wouldn’t it be better for you to die? Exposing that they killed you would be a devastating scandal that could shake their clan.”
“No, they can’t kill me.”
“Why so sure?”
“They want the secret I know.”
She turned to the Gangnam-il-mun expert and said, “Kill him now.”
Actor spoke urgently. “Is there really any need to kill me? I have nothing to do with your grudge anyway.”
“True. But now that things are this messy, you’ll come after me later.”
“I absolutely won’t.”
“People are all the same. Why else would I want Jang Cheon dead? Do it quick!”
The sword-wielding man advanced with heavy steps.
Actor pleaded rapidly with him. “If you kill me, my organization won’t let it slide. Let me talk to your sect leader.”
But the man didn’t even pretend to listen. He raised his sword high.
Actor squeezed his eyes shut. He never imagined his stage would end so pathetically.
Shiiing.
Splurt.
The sound of wind slicing through flesh rang out.
Actor opened his eyes again.
Thud.
The Gangnam-il-mun warrior, mid-swing, collapsed forward. He’d sensed the rush from behind and tried to turn, but it was too late.
Before he could fully pivot, his back was slashed open long, and his breath cut short.
Jang Cheon stood behind him.
Actor recognized Jang Cheon’s face instantly—it matched the photos perfectly.
Absurdly, that line had floated into Actor’s mind, as if this were scripted in some play.
The lack of shock or fear—overridden by the thrill of finally meeting him—stemmed from encountering Jang Cheon on the brink of death.
Yang Do-hwa, meanwhile, collapsed in sheer terror. She recognized him too.
Soon, she shrieked with venom.
“Jang Cheon! You enemy!”
Her eyes blazed with malice as she screamed.
“You dog! You son of a bitch I’ll rip apart! You’re going to hell, you bastard!”
Fear dominated her more than hatred.
“Spare me. Please, just spare me. You’re a good person, right? Killing me would make you no better than a wretch like me. I swear I’ll never try to kill you again. Please!”
Gazing up at the impassive Jang Cheon, she pleaded.
“I’ll tell you a secret. Why my husband attacked you all—I’ll reveal it! So let me live!”
For the first—and last—time since arriving, Jang Cheon spoke to her.
“You think I still don’t know the reason?”
A throwing star flew from Jang Cheon’s hand.
Whoosh!
Thunk!
The star buried deep into Yang Do-hwa’s forehead.
She toppled backward, eyes wide in death.
Jang Cheon had no intention of conversing with her. He neither understood nor hated her. She wasn’t worth the emotional effort.
Actor was truly shocked that Jang Cheon had killed Yang Do-hwa so decisively.
Soon, Phone and the four-man team entered to clean up the bodies.
Actor stood amid the unfamiliar chaos.
The night’s food chain had unfolded multiple times.
First, the ones sent to kill Yang Do-hwa were slain by Actor’s men; then Actor’s men by the Gangnam-il-mun expert; the expert by Jang Cheon.
“Mind if I smoke?”
Jang Cheon nodded at Actor’s question.
He lit up. His life would end when the cigarette burned out. He needed to think of a way to survive, but he felt only numb lethargy.
As smoke billowed, memories surfaced of his first day joining the organization long ago.
A newbie in a small theater troupe, starving miserably. A frequent patron had been a member of the group.
It started as a desperate gig for survival, but somehow he’d risen this far. To Actor, the organization was just a job.
No family, no lover, no loyalty to the group. No regrets in dying.
At least it was a mercy. Death by the Gangnam-il-mun warrior would’ve been a bad end.
Dying by Jang Cheon’s hand? Not a happy ending, but a decent one.
He stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray. His turn to exit the world.
Actor nodded at Jang Cheon, signaling he was ready.
But instead of swinging his sword, Jang Cheon made an unexpected offer.
“Want to work under me?”
Actor was floored, eyes widening. “Why?”
“You seem smart. You did well. Made things easier for me, actually.”
Actor had moved exactly as Jang Cheon would’ve predicted.
“So I’m thinking of using you to wipe out your organization entirely.”
Actor remained dazed.
“I’ve been trying to kill you all along. How can you trust me?”
“I didn’t say trust. I said use.”
“What if I betray you?”
“That’s my worry. Yours is me using you up and killing you.”
“You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
Their gazes locked—Actor’s conflicted, Jang Cheon’s steady.
“You’ll make me take poison and depend on your antidote, right?”
“Classic, but reliable. But this time... maybe I’ll just trust you.”
Actor flinched. Another unforeseen twist.
“Why?”
“Feels like it’ll bring out your best.”
“How do you know me?”
“Instinct.”
It was the same gut that had led Jang Cheon here.
Finally, Actor understood.
Why the image of Jang Cheon gazing skyward in a gas mask had etched so terrifyingly in his mind.
Darkness peering from the abyss below, the mask proclaiming I know all about you—like the face of a great demon. Actor’s own instinct.
One thing was clear.
From what he’d seen, Jang Cheon could control him without poison.
Betrayal or not, no need to worry— that strong.
“When taking them down exceeds your abilities, I’ll let you vanish from the world.”
The sweet promise of trust, now laced with a guarantee of a new future.
‘A new life? That’s my specialty.’
Actor saw it: Jang Cheon meant to eradicate the organization completely—and could do it.
As a double agent picking them off one by one, the day Jang Cheon no longer needed him would come, perhaps sooner than thought. Then, release into a new life.
“Why go this far for me?”
“Saving you nets me big gains. You’ll see later—the profit will be massive.”
Actor still hesitated.
“Even with this offer, you’re pondering? A future betrayer would say yes first.”
“Could be acting. To earn more trust.”
“A betrayer wouldn’t tip you off it’s acting.”
Actor chuckled. Spotted perfectly.
He had no intention of betraying Jang Cheon. No attachment to the organization anyway.
His hesitation stemmed from wild fears of a miserable end worse than simple death.
“Are you an actor by chance?”
“How’d you know?”
“I know you met organization members at a small theater.”
“Ah. Do you like plays?”
Jang Cheon shook his head.
“Seen any?”
“Long ago.”
“You’ll catch another soon.”
Resolved to serve, Actor extended his hand.
“I know what kind of man you are. One who creates massive opportunities without needing to offer me one.
I’ve never lived loyally, so I can’t promise loyalty. Won’t use honorifics either. I’ll see it as a deal.
But at least... I’ll repay the value of my life. I stake my stage on it.”
Jang Cheon knew that “stage” held more worth than anything else Actor could pledge.
He took the hand.
“Fair trade—giving and getting exact value—is the best deal.”
“This chance will reveal my life’s true worth.”
After the handshake, Actor added, “I killed the inspector who came down. If I’d foreseen this, I’d have handled it differently. Sorry, but I’ve logged it as your doing.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Inspectors report to contacts every eight hours. A survival check.”
Inspectors were mostly civilians, no escorts.
Stealth mattered; targets were planners like Actor, not field agents.
Even if martial artists, touching an inspector meant betrayal.
That meant death, no exceptions.
Actor could kill Bulldog because he knew their protocols—and Jang Cheon’s uniqueness fit the chaos in Korea, with key figures dropping.
“When contact cuts off, special inspectors deploy immediately. Real experts, heavy hitters.
This one was from the Asia branch, but specials come straight from central command.”
“Perfect. Direct link to your core is what I want.”
“Figured. Though they might send new ops instead.
That’s why I’m needed. Tell me how they move.”
By then, Phone and the team had restored the room.
As Jang Cheon turned to leave, Actor called, “Jang Cheon.”
At the door, Actor said, “Loyalty or deal, I have to say it. Thanks for saving me.”
“If you think that life’s worth keeping, quit smoking first.”
Leaving the chuckling Actor behind, Jang Cheon departed.
Actor sighed, sinking into a chair.
He’d played countless roles on stage, but in life, always one: Asia ops planner.
Now, a new role in his story—one unthinkable an hour ago.
Jang Cheon’s subordinate.
Reaching habitually for a smoke, Actor gripped the pack tight instead and hurled it into a distant trash bin.