The Hwa Brothers -1-
The container owned by Cheongnim.
The moment it was opened, both Rohan and the driver knew there was no turning back.
That's why they were both putting up a fight, each trying to go their own way.
"Sir, I'm just saying this in case things go south. I won't be able to sleep easy if I let you go like this."
"You bastard! Get lost! I said get the hell away!"
Click!
Ignoring the driver's frantic attempts to pull him away, Rohan forced the door open with brute strength.
The driver bounced in his seat, letting out a scream that was barely human.
"Fuck! You crazy son of a bitch! You're done for now!"
"Sir, I rented this car, so I can't just leave it. Letting me go would be doing me a favor. I'm grateful, but this is putting me in a tough spot."
Rohan slipped inside the container with feigned nonchalance.
He half-closed the door, pretended to turn on a flashlight by pulling out his phone, and started recording video.
Realizing it was too late to stop him, the driver gave up trying to intervene and dashed back to the driver's seat to grab his own tossed-aside phone.
As the driver frantically made a call somewhere, Rohan began a swift search.
Shhrrk—
On one side, stacks of white cardboard boxes. No labels on the outside indicating what drugs they might contain.
Inside, they were filled with brown-tinted vials of injectable liquid. He didn't know the contents, but they looked just like the ones he'd seen in hospitals.
'No clue what they are, so pass.'
His gaze shifted to an area covered by thick blue plastic sheeting.
He removed the glucose boxes propping it up and peeled back the cover to reveal white powder, portioned out and rolled tightly in plastic bags.
'This gotta be drugs?'
Suspicious, sure. But he didn't know enough about this stuff to say for certain—pure speculation.
It was confusing how there wasn't even a minimal effort to hide it.
After filming it for the video, he turned to the row of barrels in the corner.
'Drums...?'
No, not quite. Nothing ordinary about them.
These were custom-made for a specific purpose.
"..."
From what he remembered, Cheongnim's operation should have ended with illegal drugs and narcotics.
But these barrels stirred a distinct sense of foreboding. Rohan's hand moved without hesitation.
Click!
He lifted the latch on one. Air hissed in, popping one side of the lid up.
He pried it open with his fingers.
'Well, look at this shit.'
Inside the barrel, a generous amount of slime-like viscous liquid. And submerged within it, curled up with eyes closed—a person. Like a bug trapped in amber.
'One per barrel means right now, in here...'
He had no idea what the liquid was, but it looked far from normal, so he filmed it first.
Then he sent the video file to the group chat.
As presences began to converge, he initiated a group call and sealed the barrel. He silenced his phone and tucked it away.
Someone roughly yanked open the half-closed container door.
Rohan turned to look at the entrance.
"Hey, kid. You're coming with us."
A group of rough-faced bruisers patted the blades and guns in their coats, trying to assert dominance.
Looking at the hulks blocking the container entrance, Rohan thought:
'These guys company men or just thugs?'
They had enough of a vibe to back up their thuggish looks—some real organization behind them.
If these were Cheongnim employees, then the pharmaceutical manufacturing was just a front in name only.
Maybe the company name was just a cover for procuring and using specific drugs.
'Guess I'll play along for now.'
No intention of causing a gruesome scene right by a public road with civilians passing by.
Rohan nodded without resistance and headed toward the bruisers.
"Mind telling me where we're going first?"
"Boss wants to see you. Come quietly."
"Got it. Let's go. I wanna wrap this up quick too."
"..."
Based on experience up to now, they figured the kid would thrash and fight back. But this young punk just nodded like he didn't grasp the gravity.
They shot him looks like he'd seen every weirdo in the book.
But with that nagging unease, sending him off empty-handed wasn't an option. So they headed to the company building.
"Gentlemen, do you confiscate weapons on entry?"
"What're you gonna do, kid, even if you got one?"
A tone like pure provocation. The group snickered mockingly.
Even so, Rohan accepted it calmly.
"Fair point. I'd just be lunch anyway."
"?"
"Good thing. I've got separation anxiety with my weapons—can't stand being apart."
The bruisers eyed Rohan with even more suspicion than before.
But no helping it.
Lately, meeting so many big shots had drilled humility into Rohan harder than usual.
Lines like that didn't even register as taunts. If anything, they felt like a helpful wake-up whip.
Step. Step. Step.
Surrounded by the bruisers, Rohan entered the Cheongnim building and kept moving toward their destination.
They arrived—the lead thug stopped and scowled a warning.
"No funny business in front of the boss, or you won't walk home. Be as polite as you can, got it?"
"Thanks for the advice. One tip from me: watch out for pretty girls, big bros. Keywords: purple twintails and elf."
"This punk's either ballsy or cracked... Talking shit after coming all this way. Shoulda broken his legs and dragged him."
The brute dismissed Rohan's warning as childish banter and continued his role.
He knocked twice. A voice from inside said come in, and he turned the knob.
"Go on."
Pushed from behind, Rohan entered the room.
Not a sealed chamber—windows showing the darkening outside.
Sensing Sion and Clara were watching, Rohan flashed a casual, unobtrusive hand signal.
A light in the building flickered three times short. Impossible to miss against the dark backdrop.
'They're over there.'
If they caught the signal, good enough.
As he stepped deeper in, the two finally spoke.
"Aw, the poor kid must be scared stiff."
"Come sit."
It was the Hwa brothers, the ones Rohan had been looking for.
Two desks, each with a nameplate reading "President."
Seeing the names, Rohan sharpened a faint memory.
'Left: Hwa Cheon-gang. Right: Hwa So-pyeong.'
Both around the same skill level.
Not gonna be a cakewalk, he sensed, as he sat in the seat they offered.
"Heard the news, and the car's plates say it's rented."
"That's right. Which is the problem."
The brothers burst out laughing at Rohan's words.
"Our little friend... not from Samhwa Nation, huh?"
"That obvious?"
One of the Hwa brothers nodded, lit a cigarette.
"Promising youngsters from Samhwa get faces known. If he's got pull among his peers and we don't know him, he's gotta be foreign."
"So, friend, here on vacation?"
Their eyes scanned him head to toe.
Rohan nodded indifferently.
"Yep. On break, traveling."
"Aigoo, vacation ruined by a traffic accident... Headache, right?"
"With living expenses on my mind, every penny counts. Honestly, it's a bind."
"Hmm. Told your friends you were coming to Samhwa? Get any help?"
"Nah, don't go around announcing trips. Travel a lot, hate borrowing cash from buddies."
The Hwa brothers' faces lit up openly.
Rohan found their blatant expressions intriguing. No hurdles to marking him missing—must be thrilled.
They were mulling over his appeal about needing living money too.
Hiss!
One brother stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and got straight to it.
"You saw inside the truck, right?"
"Yeah. Checked it out—tons of stuff, but no visible damage from the impact."
"Nah, not that. You figured out what's really in there."
A brief silence.
Rohan smirked and dropped the ultra-sensitive word.
"Drugs and people?"
"Hah, this kid's either clueless or sharp as hell."
"Gutsy one. Hard to find kids like you these days."
One Hwa brother stood, went to a black safe in the corner, pulled out a wad of bills, and sat back down.
Rohan glanced at the stack shoved in his face, then looked up.
"What's this?"
"Pocket money. Uncle's treat so you enjoy your break."
"Forget everything you saw here—like we rode the same boat. Just have fun traveling. Got it?"
A subtle hint that taking the money made him an accomplice.
And it didn't stop there.
"On the house! Snort it up before you go. Kids these days know the drill, right?"
He pulled out white powder from his pocket, tapped some onto a bill, and set it in front of Rohan.
Dumping it on money must've seemed stylish to him—Rohan was dumbfounded.
"Get me a drink too. Gotta serve a guest something, right?"
"You got it."
The brothers clicked well.
Rohan struggled not to laugh at the drugs and mystery drink in front of him.
Their eager eyes urged him to do one or the other. One sip or sniff, and his mind would haze over, easy pickings.
"Mind if I ask one thing?"
They chin-nodded from across, inviting it.
"What's with the slime dunking people in those barrels?"
At Rohan's question, the Hwa brothers started chuckling.
He couldn't fathom what was so funny.
Didn't want to know the emotion behind it either—just the facts would do. The rest would be disgusting anyway.
"Kids these days are info wizards, but clueless on cutting-edge tech like that?"
"Simple terms: keeps 'em fresh. We've got new tech rolling in lately."
"So they're alive in there, not drowned?"
"Yep. Freshness is life, like I said."
"For organs?"
As Rohan's questions chained, the brothers exchanged glances and shook their heads.
No point explaining to a dead man walking.
"Said one question, but that's a few. Not family—don't dig too deep. Wrap it here."
"Family..."
Those bruisers reeking of blood—definitely "family."
Cheongnim, this small fry of a company, had chosen survival over bankruptcy and transformed.
"You blab about what you saw out there, no background means nobody believes you. No need to beef with us—live happy in your lane."
"Understood."
"You'll get it after graduation, out in the real world. That's how it spins. Even the cops know and look the other way."
Lies mixed with outdated bullshit.
Samhwa's lawmen didn't tie their lives to small-time trash like this.
"Drink up and hit the road for some fun. Samhwa nights are the real deal, yeah?"
As the Hwa brothers pushed the drugs, Rohan lifted the drink to his lips—then set it back on the table.
The teasing move wiped their smiles. Irritation creeping in.
"One sec. Gotta end this call first."
Rohan beamed, pulling out his phone from his pocket.
The Hwa brothers stared at Rohan blankly. Unbelievable they'd been had by such amateur-hour tactics.
"..."
They hadn't even taken his phone on the way in?
"Cutting it now."
The moment Rohan finished speaking and ended the call—
—Boom! The Hwa brothers kicked the table aside and drew their weapons.
...
...
Cheongnim's loading dock and warehouse.
The two youngest thugs were smoking hard while chatting before unloading the truck's cargo.
"That guy's healthy-looking—bet he's pricey. Hope we score some perks."
"Wait and see how the boss handles him. Don't get hyped and crash."
If another prime product came their way, the truck wreck was no issue.
Hell, it was luck.
"Ah! Need a new ride."
"Can't even maintain one—wash off that corpse stink first."
"That's natural air freshener, punk. You wouldn't get it."
"Dumbass."
He tossed the butt with just the filter left and ground it underfoot.
The instant he turned—
"Ah, h-hello...!"
A girl with purple twintails stood there, hunched and timid.
"!?"
Before they could react, Clara raised her pistol.
Pop! Pop!
Clean holes in both men's heads.