Incheon Port (2)
Incheon New Port. A large yacht with its sails furled glided slowly toward the dock. Fierce sea winds battered it, pushing against the engine's power and trying to shove it back into the ocean.
"Rope. Throwing it now."
"Huh? You think it'll reach?"
"Should get close enough."
Unable to stand it any longer, Cheol-woo grabbed the rope, whirled it around a few times, and hurled it. The men who had been scoffing—as if that'll work—froze as the rope arced upward, defying gravity and soaring in a perfect parabola. What the hell kind of strength is that?
The rope just barely reached the docking area, where it was reeled in by the winch. The yacht was quickly pulled in. The engines cut off, and four men stepped out onto the dock.
"Long time no see, Boss."
"Yeah. Everyone doing alright?"
"Of course."
The men greeted Han Sa-jang with smirks. They looked middle-aged, burly and rough. Probably from all the hard labor at sea, Cheol-woo thought. He stayed on high alert, scanning the three men one by one. Especially the buzz-cut guy's vibe felt off.
"We were just prepping food. You must be hungry—eat up."
"Good. Ship ready?"
"Yes. Gear and supplies loaded. We'll sail at dawn tomorrow."
"Alright. Handle the cargo carefully. The owner's picky. Steal even one bullet, and you might end up dead."
"Hahaha."
Cheol-woo stood motionless the whole time, watching every piece of gear unloaded from the yacht. Assault rifles, ammo crates, anti-tank rocket launchers, even surface-to-air missiles. The endless stream of military equipment left the staff wide-eyed.
This side seems fine, Cheol-woo thought, tilting his head. He'd watched out of unease, but no suspicious vibes came from the workers swarming the yacht. So where was that weird energy from earlier?
Then there were those buzz-cut guys laughing and clapping beside Han Sa-jang as they headed into the building. Every time Cheol-woo saw them, that strange aura enveloped him. How to describe it? Like facing a beast growling with murderous intent. Killing intent? Malice?
But they weren't armed or in attack stance. Something felt off. Cheol-woo sharpened his senses. If Han Sa-jang died in some freak accident, it'd be a mess.
"Can't go outside the port, so no fancy restaurants. Our cafeteria buffet okay?"
"Any idea on the menu...?"
"Probably pork stir-fry and seaweed soup."
This is a feast, Cheol-woo and Yuri thought, swallowing hard. They couldn't fathom why Han Sa-jang had asked if it was okay.
Guided to a second-floor private room in the bustling cafeteria, Cheol-woo received his tray. Steam rose invitingly from the heaping rice and pork stir-fry.
"Excuse me."
"Yes? Need more?"
"Bring another tray like this. And refills one at a time as I finish?"
"Pardon?"
"If you bring them all at once, it'll get cold."
"Uh, sure."
"Same for me," Yuri added shyly, raising her hand.
The staffer shot them a what the hell look before leaving. Cheol-woo started devouring his tray. Yuri, glancing around nervously, matched his pace. They'd only been active that morning, but the calorie burn was insane—moving, focusing, even bleeding. Food vanished endlessly.
Staff's gonna hate running trays back and forth, Cheol-woo thought with a twinge of guilt. But imagining himself going downstairs repeatedly killed it.
"Oh man, Boss. Eating here? Took me forever to find you."
"...?"
The door flew open without warning. Cheol-woo's nerves spiked. Those creepy buzz-cut guys piled in with trays, surrounding Han Sa-jang without asking. Her face twisted in annoyance at the rudeness. Ignoring it—or pretending to—they chomped away noisily.
Han Sa-jang sighed in resignation, setting down her chopsticks.
"Heard about the Seoul branch—shocked me. Kim Sa-jang's lost it, right? Blowing up a perfectly fine shipping office and a department store?"
"Guy's nuts. But the ship's too big. Got something smaller?"
"Huh? What's big about it? It's a small vessel."
"Small my ass—it holds a thousand containers. Swap for something I can handle solo."
"Hmm. Tough with the tight schedule. Handysize would take a month to dock."
"Don't you keep backups per class for emergencies?"
"Sorry. Sudden orders ate up the reserves."
This prick ignores regs now that he's deputy? Runs shit his way? Han Sa-jang glared, but Buzz-cut shrugged it off coolly.
"Don't worry. Sending crew to help sail."
"I'll pick my own."
"Nah, I got 'em ready. Aces all."
"These guys?"
"Yep. Skilled, obedient. Use 'em easy."
Skilled and obedient, yet they slurp loudly in front of the boss without a clue? Hard to cherry-pick thugs like this over normal guys. Sending them to Hong Kong with me—what's the play? Intentions so obvious it turned Cheol-woo's stomach.
"I don't roll with thugs. Security means only tight-lipped guys."
"They're quiet. Right, boys?"
"Yeah. Hong Kong stays in Hong Kong."
"See? They need the resume boost. Think of your staff, Boss. Always hogging the glory."
"Hey. You planning how to handle me when I return?"
"Handle what? What'd I do wrong?"
Han Sa-jang let out a hollow laugh at the sneer. Deputy thinks I'll never come back, so he's going wild. These thugs wouldn't just watch in Hong Kong. If things went smooth and I returned, they'd sabotage and steal the data. Thugs don't shed their nature overnight.
Should've axed this idiot sooner. Cheol-woo had planned it but procrastinated. Never dreamed HQ would dump her and auto-promote him.
Han Sa-jang ground her teeth, glancing at Cheol-woo. Smart guy's gotta see this. But he was just piling empty trays, oblivious. Yuri too—head down, pretending not to hear amid the tension.
Sigh. Useless pair.
"Hey. Step down as deputy."
"Me?"
"Who else? Nicely now."
"C'mon. You're scaring me. How'm I supposed to handle threats? Fine, I'll quit. But take these guys. That's the deal."
"Heh, fine. If that's your wish. But if they die in some 'accident' right after departure, not my problem."
"...?"
Buzz-cut's face hardened. Kill all five? For real? How? Stunned for three seconds, then he burst out laughing. The others joined, grinning.
"No way. These guys can fight. How you surviving Hong Kong's hell without 'em?"
"Got separate guards. Worry about them dying, not me."
"Guards? Who? High-school samurai girl?"
"Not high school. Adult."
"Doesn't matter, fuck. Cut the bullshit and behave, Boss. Wanna waste time bickering? Sleep it off and sail fresh tomorrow."
"Bullshit's what you're spouting—"
"Burp. Good meal."
"...?"
"...?"
Cheol-woo shoved back his chair and stood. Yuri followed suit, eyeing the room. Buzz-cut and Han Sa-jang stared, speechless, as Cheol-woo strode out without a care.
"Stuffed. Where to crash till departure? Wanna nap."
"This way."
Leaving stunned Han Sa-jang behind, Cheol-woo and Yuri trailed the guide. Belly full or not, the circus was nauseating. She nuts? Thinks those guys might die at launch? Not might—will. But she'd make me do it. I'm security, not an assassin-for-hire.
Cheol-woo was fucking baffled.
"Vibe here's too murder-y."
"Tell me. Buzz-cut and Han both plotting dumps, not even hiding it. Her going wild 'cause I'm here."
"Yeah. Thinks you'll handle it if shit hits..."
Yuri nodded vigorously. Han clearly saw Cheol-woo as her loyal hound already—grab a gun in a pinch, kill on command. Sis seemed sharp, but this lady kept toeing the line uneasily.
"Hole up till launch. Hate hassle."
If Han trusted him and he stayed out of sight, maybe she'd chill without cleanup crew.
"Uh."
"What?"
The assigned quarters felt off. ***
"Min Cheol-woo? That kid from earlier's Min Cheol-woo?"
"Yeah. GeumMyeong Security's hotshot newbie."
"He fucked over GeumMyeong? Too young."
"Looks like a twig. No way. Boss hired an actor to spook us."
"Kuhahaha..."
At dawn by the pier, the deputy and his thugs puffed smokes, chuckling lowly. Han's flustered face lingered vividly.
Incheon New Port? Her turf? She'd purged loyalists long ago—this was their world. GeumMyeong tipped them off: Seoul branch raid incoming, strip her bare. Price? Min Cheol-woo. Intel or capture—hand him over.
"Min Cheol-woo's fake as fuck. Whole teams wiped by a rookie? Deception."
"Still, bounty if we nab him. Jackpot if real, shrug if not. Han bringing him's suspicious anyway. Not normal folk."
"Girls?"
"Which? Short or tall?"
"Both."
"Snag and sell. Eliminate variables."
Han wasn't blind—her crew gutted, den enemy turf. Yet she strutted. Meant her entourage wasn't ordinary. To minimize risks, solo with their boys only.
"They're in the container, right?"
"Obviously."
"Gas 'em. Time to squash."
They stubbed smokes and pulled tools from pockets.