Siege (Part 3) - Yeouido
Yeouido. On a bright, clear morning with fierce winds whipping across the river—perfect weather for launching yachts. Already, people were heading out on dinghies, and small weekend cruisers were starting to appear one by one. But the undisputed star stealing everyone's gaze was the cruiser yacht moored at the far end of the marina.
"Whoa, that boat's huge."
"Insane, right? Must be a deck party tonight or something."
As passersby buzzed with excitement, Team Leader Kim Mi-young shakily scrawled her signature on the contract with trembling hands. Purchasing a cruiser yacht worth over a billion won—in full cash? With my hands? She'd pored over the papers two, three, four times already, leaving them tattered, and her phone battery was on its last legs from all the confirmation calls to the boss.
"Ah, Boss! Yes! I got your message! I just finalized the contract—"
"Yes?" The line cut off the instant it connected. Clutching her disconnected phone, Team Leader Kim Mi-young's face drained of color as she froze in place. GeumMyeong Group attacking again? The nightmare came flooding back. Suited thugs bursting in with pistols, gunning down her people before they could even resist, heads exploding. And Han Si-yeon casually picking a burly guard, doping him up, and sending him out like a Pokémon—that was part of the nightmare too.
At least she wasn't a candidate for Pokémon duty anymore, but what if Han Si-yeon and her crew got wiped out? She'd be left alone with just this yacht. Sell it now, and half the purchase price would be lucky. How the hell was she supposed to shake GeumMyeong pursuit with 500 million won? If the boss couldn't escape, she was as good as dead. Come on, don't joke around—hurry up, I'm scared— she chanted under her breath, stamping her feet in front of the yacht. Tears were about to well up when—
"Yes? Boss? What?"
"Y-yes, it's ready. Loading's done too."
"Yes, roger...?" Yes? Pardon? While Kim Mi-young stood there dumbfounded, the call cut off. No gunshots during the whole conversation—just the roar of gasoline engines. So Team 1 was really done, and they were heading out now? How...?
Seongnam, Gyeonggi Province—Seoul Airport. Yu Sil-jang briskly returned the salutes of the lined-up field-grade officers with a casual wave, her heels clicking rapidly: tak tak tak tak.
The moment she hopped into the vehicle, she kicked off her high heels and barked, "Helipad! Now!"
"Yes, ma'am."
Aaah, fuuuck—her brain buzzed like she'd taken a blow to the back of the head. She'd anticipated fierce resistance from DongYang Department Store. It was a suspicious fortress from the start. Oriental Group had funded it once during construction, turning it into a perfect stronghold and fallback point in Seoul for emergencies. Despite countless attempts to topple it, President Han Si-rin had grown it into a top-10 department store by sales, thwarting any sale.
Of course, that ironclad fortress only held when packed with armed personnel. Security alone couldn't maintain it. And two extra people? Shouldn't change a thing—but the helicopter crash report she'd just heard said otherwise.
"Patch me to Pilot 2."
"Yes."
"What the hell are you doing? Why are you down?"
Yu Sil-jang stepped out of the car, headset on, yelling. A UH-1 helicopter descended with a deafening thudda-thudda-thudda—a relic modernized in the US, sold to Iran, resold to Africa, then scooped up cheap by GeumMyeong Security.
"Why are you deciding that? I decide. No excuses—take off again!"
"Your mistake flying into MANPADS range. You fly like that in the military too? Take off before I drag you out and fly it myself."
Agh, this frustrating fucker. DongYang wouldn't have anti-air missiles stocked—must be Min Cheol-woo's gear. He was wrestling ground pigs in hazmat suits, so who was firing? No firer, no hit, you idiot. Yu Sil-jang skipped the lecture and boarded the helo.
"...Taking off."
The pilot, knowing full well what "I'll fly it" meant, shuddered as he lifted off. Five minutes to GeumMyeong Department Store—but the news in those five minutes was a shitshow.
"What? Section Chief Choi's dead? When? Ten minutes ago? Why report now?!"
Section Chief Choi, who'd pried open the main gate, sliced clean in half. Who the hell did that? Min Cheol-woo couldn't wield a blade worth shit. They'd lost 20% from the start, barely holding encirclement under Choi—now collapsed with his death. Total losses: 40%. Commander KIA. Encirclement? Sustaining the fight was impossible. Min Cheol-woo probably slipped the net already. I would've.
Yu Sil-jang grabbed the radio. "Gain altitude."
"Think I don't know that? That's why—higher. Can't see the ground."
"I know! Wanna get dropped here?!"
Is this guy a retard? How do you fire AA missiles from a car? Vowing to personally "retire" him on landing, Yu Sil-jang scanned the ground. DongYang Department Store came into view—no fresh vehicles exiting. What about outside the zone?
"Tch... too many."
What a clusterfuck. Scratched pride, lost troops, lost Choi... "Wait. Where's my sword?"
Oh.
"Hooah. Ah. Hoooahhh..."
Shing—shink— Yuri repeatedly drew and sheathed her gray sword, her breathing refusing to settle. Weird? It usually calmed quick. Cheol-woo checked her state and gave up fast. Her mental was shattered. No fixing that now—needed time.
'30 minutes to marina? Make it?'
Roadblocks caused massive jams nearby. Han Si-yeon said 30, but running might take as long.
'!?'
Pacing Cheol-woo froze at a sharp tingle. Not hand-feel. More like sighting a head in crosshairs—the click of the barrel locking. The reverse?
'Targeted!'
He yanked Yuri's head toward him. Thwip—bullet grazed past her cheek, punching the window. Ah, you fucker. Gotcha—the tranq sniper.
Grinding his teeth, Cheol-woo whipped around toward the shot. Found it. Dilapidated building, ~500m. Eye contact—presence vanished. Running?
"Boss. Sniper."
"Which way? Switch lanes, hide in traffic!"
"No. I'll handle it. Window's holed—switch to the spare."
"Pardon?"
Cheol-woo bailed and sprinted. Second encounter—third might not happen. Lesson from this life: unfinished grudges bite back unpredictable. Ambiguous enemy, but opportunity knocked.
Over walls, across roofs, leaping building to building—he hit five stories fast. Open space eased the pressure. Wind shifts hypersensitive, even bird wingbeats registered. And thudda-thudda... chopper? Shit! Another helo up!
'Crazy? After MANPADS, they launch again?'
Yu Sil-jang for sure—no one else had the balls. Refocusing, rustle from inside the building. Crashed through fifth-floor window—crash!—footsteps scrambled inside.
'Escape: out window? Jumping?'
Rappel? Then crunch!—metal crumpling, agonized urk-agh!—landed on a car. Twisted ankle, pained groans. Faint ankle-high fishing line inside: tripwire. Dense setup. Cheol-woo vaulted them, leaped from window.
Thud! Landed rolling. Right there: guy from dented roof car, clutching waist, groaning.
"..."
"..."
Eyes met—brief silence. Under a second, but enough for life flashes. Ah—Mom—I'm going like this—rear guard's safe, my ass— Sniper squeezed eyes shut, bracing.
Waiting for headshot—footsteps neared, then whoosh—hugged? What? Confused sniper: Cheol-woo snatched his backpack.
"Huuuugh...!"
Cheol-woo strode off. Sniper realized he'd held breath, gasped anew. Always scoped from safety—headshots terrifying afar. Breath on his face? Legs buckled, collapsed. Psssh—pants soaked.
"This'll do."
Cheol-woo ripped open the bag, cheering. .50 Barrett anti-materiel rifle. Hole size hinted—bingo. Slapped mag, shouldered, aimed skyward. Target: Yu Sil-jang's helo.
'Size unknown—rough 800m.'
Instinct distanced ground, but sky? Tricky sans reference. Rotor ~2.5m? Gut-shot first round. Bang! Missed. Adjusted neural zero: bang! bang! bang! bang!
One chewed main rotor, one tail rotor. Two fuselage. Sniper's radio crackled.
Tail rotor smoking, helo losing altitude. Cheol-woo hefted the Barrett, turned to shivering sniper eyeing him like 'Gonna kill me?'
Why? You're about to be the guy who downed Yu Sil-jang's helo. Sniper clutched the passed rifle, sighing ahh. Just suicide? Tears welled in his eyes.