The End of the Line
I’m on the subway right now. It must be rush hour—people are packed in tight all around me. Normally the train stops every two or three minutes, but this one just keeps barreling forward. I stare straight ahead and catch my reflection in the window. As I watch the tunnel walls blur past, I begin to grow younger. With every year that falls away, the memories of everything I’ve lived through flash behind my face like a lantern show. Each time a memory surfaces, the reflection changes.
I had been happy watching the organization grow and watching myself rise with it. Meeting Miju taught me what love felt like. Hearing my brother was alive and seeing him again in the Philippines filled me with joy. Then the greed crept in. Enemies multiplied. I earned their hatred. In the process I lost Senior Banjjak and the grief hollowed me out. All the feelings I had buried finally erupted as rage. By the time the announcement came that we were approaching the final station, my face in the glass had become something monstrous.
The doors opened. Everyone else got off. I was the last one left when an invisible force shoved me out onto the platform.
“Hyung, snap out of it.”
Someone is shaking me awake. My whole body aches.
“It hurts.”
“Hyung!”
“I said it hurts, you bastard.”
Only then does the shaking stop.
“You okay, Hyung?”
“I don’t know. Everything hurts.”
“What happened?”
Listening to Cheol-min’s explanation makes fresh anger surge through me. The first car he was riding in and the second car I was in had been attacked by the rival organization just five hundred meters from the hospital. We slammed into a cargo truck. The driver of the first car swerved at the last second, but the narrow road sent the car tumbling into a side street. The second car couldn’t avoid it and took the hit head-on. The only mercy was that the attackers were amateurs—they never confirmed the kills. The truck driver had also blacked out.
“Casualties?”
“Only me, you, and the guy behind me made it. Fuck.”
Five people dead.
“How many days has it been?”
“Three days.”
I try to sit up, then lie back down. God, it hurts like hell.
“The doctor said it’s a miracle you even woke up.”
“Lie back down.”
“We have to get revenge.”
“On who?”
Who else? The bastards who did this to us.
“The hotel owner already took care of everything. Team Leader Lee and Chief Kim went in with blood in their eyes and wiped them out.”
“Just focus on getting better, Hyung. I haven’t slept in days.”
“Thanks.”
Hearing that everything had been settled lets the tension drain out of me. My eyes close on their own.
The next day my brother and the team leaders came to see me. My brother, who had seen every kind of hell, looked the same as always, but the two team leaders were different. Their eyes looked ready to pour out molten lava.
“I’m sorry,” Team Leader Lee says first, bowing his head.
“It’s fine. This line of work is dangerous. Don’t worry about it.”
When Chief Kim tries to bow as well, I stop her.
“What’s done is done. We can’t change it.”
“We’ll make sure nothing like this happens again. We’ll send the fallen off properly and take care of the survivors.”
“Understood.”
“We thought we had local VIPs backing us, but when it came down to it we were still outsiders.”
“Exactly. That’s why they struck so decisively. Dragging things out would only hurt us, being visitors here.”
“Chief Kim and the injured Sergeant Seo will return to Korea to rebuild the security team. The rest will stay in the Philippines to stabilize things.”
Team Leader Lee lays out the plan.
“What about the funerals?”
“Cremations are done. Chief Kim will bring the remains back to the families.”
“Money won’t fix anything, but make sure they get proper compensation. Actually… I’ll handle that myself.”
“Do it however you want. Just rest and recover. We’ll be going now.”
“Get some rest.”
My brother stays behind after the others leave.
“You have something else to say?”
“I have something to tell you.”
??
Because of his position he had been holding back, but now he tells me about the spoils. Of course. It’s hard to talk about money when people are dying.
“Right. The living have to keep living.”
“The guy who was in the car with me during the attack has some pull with the police. Cleanup should be easier than expected.”
“At least he earned the money we paid him.”
“Good.”
“We also got a warning not to escalate things further. I don’t know if the other side lobbied for it or if it’s just their own turf war.”
“Oh, and the bounty is his to keep. In exchange he’s handing over the farm and factory we hit.”
“So you’re planning to run them?”
“Think it’s possible?”
With just one hotel we already got hit with a terror attack. Expanding further feels risky.
“You know this already, but the guys you brought are impressive. Good teamwork, good loyalty.”
“We were short on time. We’d barely started handing out guns and training when this happened.”
“We’ll hold the line. Like I said before, this place is my home now.”
I say it carefully so I don’t burden him. I also tell him to think about pulling out. We only came here to launder money—we never expected this level of danger. He snaps at me. What part of this business is ever safe?
“Manufacturing won’t work because the infrastructure here is poor, but raw material production looks viable. The books show they can handle local demand and still export.”
“Once things stabilize I’ll send product your way.”
He keeps talking about the money in the safes they recovered and absorbing the distribution network, but I’m not really listening. I just want to live without being threatened. Safely.
“Use whatever you need for yourself, Hyung. You don’t have to give me anything. Last time you already gave me half the profits. You know I have plenty of money.”
“Spend it on stabilizing things and hiring people.”
“All right. I’ll do that for now. You’ve grown a lot—looking out for your brother and everything.”
We look at each other and burst into rough laughter. People have to laugh to stay alive. Still, I remember my history lessons. Peace doesn’t need an army, but without a strong army peace never lasts. That paradox.
“Build whatever organization you need until you feel safe, Hyung. From what I’ve seen, this country is different from Korea. If you keep the higher-ups happy, you can move more freely with people and weapons.”
“I was already planning to. I need to show them exactly who they messed with.”
The next day we were discharged. The doctors said we were well enough to continue treatment back in Korea.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are preparing for takeoff. Please fasten your seatbelts.”
Cheol-min and I flew business class again, just like on the way here. Chief Kim and Sergeant Seo sat in economy, posing as newlyweds. I offered to upgrade them, but they said it would look suspicious. Something about it being more comfortable than a cargo plane anyway. I upgraded their seats anyway—wider pitch, more comfortable.
“Cheol-min, when we get back you need more training.”
“Yes. I realized how many gaps I still have.”
“Korea is relatively safe for now. Either stay at the welfare center or move to the training camp and learn what you can.”
“Yes. It was very different from hunting.”
Seeing his remorse and determination, I let it drop. He’ll do fine.
“Rest. Relax.”
The Korea-bound team landed in Busan and headed straight to the welfare center. On the way up I asked Sergeant Seo what he planned to do. He said he wanted to work as a training instructor. Field work was probably over for him. His arm was giving him a lot of trouble even if the outside looked fine. The Filipino doctor had said he might need another surgery. He kept apologizing to the dead teammates, holding it in, and it made me feel guilty.
I reported everything that happened in the Philippines and our future direction to High-sa and Director Jo. Director Jo crossed himself when he heard about the deaths. He suggested we expand our numbers and stay cautious until the team returned from the Philippines, since there would be a gap in our strength. I also asked Chief Kim to give Cheol-min some special training. His shooting and hand-to-hand were fine, but operational planning and urban combat needed work.
“I’ll take good care of him.”
High-sa wrapped things up.
“Boss, you’ve worked hard overseas. Director Jo and I will handle the rest.”
After finishing business at the welfare center and security team, I returned to Seoul. The moment I got home, a message arrived.
“Senior, do you have time right now?”
It was my law-school junior.
“Yes, I do. What’s going on?”
“If you have time, could you come here?”
I don’t have the energy to look after anyone else right now.
“Sorry. I’m too tired.”
“Understood… Sorry for contacting you so suddenly. Get some rest.”
I showered, sat at my desk, and spent the next week organizing everything that had happened in Korea—sales figures, issues with the expanded sales teams, police and prosecution movements. I checked for anything I might have missed, especially threats. After what happened, I couldn’t afford to be careless. I never wanted anyone else to die because of a moment of inattention.