Don't Look Back
"Hoo... haa..."
Min Cheol-woo's hands moved busily as he hurriedly pried open the safe. He'd seen Jeong Gwa-jang and the team leaders coming and going, stuffing money in and pulling it out. It was little more than a cabinet with a padlock—no real challenge at all. He quickly stuffed bundles of cash into his bag, then stepped over the corpses, wiping bloodstains from his body and changing clothes in a flash. He didn't forget to tuck the bulletproof vest under his new shirt. His mind was still a whirlwind of chaos, but his movements showed no hesitation whatsoever. Everything felt spontaneous, yet like a plan he'd rehearsed a thousand times.
Pulling his cap low, he swiped Kang Team Leader's employee badge at the gate and slipped out, exhaling deeply.
Am I fucking crazy?
Why the hell had he drawn his gun back there? He wasn't in any mortal danger. But the moment he'd realized the team members were deliberately keeping him pinned at the company—and that something was going down with his sister tonight—all doubt had vanished. Was that really reason enough to kill them? Weren't they just following orders from Yu Sil-jang or Jeong Gwa-jang? Innocent guys, maybe? Husbands and fathers with families?
Fuck if I care.
That was Cheol-woo's conclusion to all the agonizing. Who gives a shit? He and his sister were in danger—what did anything else matter? For the sake of his one remaining blood relative, he could gun down those team members he'd barely known for a month without a second thought. Once the gun was out, there was no stopping, no surrender, no room for negotiation. Now he had to see it through to the bitter end.
"Shall I load your luggage in the trunk?"
"No. I'll hold it on the back seat. Take me to GeumMyeong University Hospital."
As Cheol-woo settled into the taxi, his phone buzzed sharply. It was Yuri calling. He immediately hit reject and opened the messenger app.
A long silence followed. Cheol-woo ground his teeth so hard—grind grind—the taxi driver tensed up instinctively.
Another long pause. Why's she typing so slow? Every time Cheol-woo gnashed his teeth—crunch crunch—the driver swallowed hard.
Cheol-woo yanked up his jacket in a rage and snapped a photo. The second he sent it, replies flooded in.
This time, replies came fast.
Cheol-woo slumped back, finally catching his breath. If he were Jeong Gwa-jang, how would he kidnap his sister? As safely as possible, quietly, no witnesses. The optimal play: break into her one-room at night via the door lock and subdue her. Just avoiding home would throw their plan into disarray. Jeong Gwa-jang likely knew her schedule inside out. Disrupt it, take an unpredictable route, and Plan B crumbles too.
Of course, Jeong Gwa-jang wouldn't wait forever for a clean, quiet grab. Soon the cleaning lady would find the bloodbath office and alert him. Once they knew Cheol-woo had bolted, they might try a bold daytime snatch in broad daylight. He had to retrieve Yuri before then.
Cheol-woo powered on Kang Deputy's phone and tapped away. Meanwhile, his gut kept rumbling unpleasantly.
"Ah, pull over in front of that used car lot."
"Here? Sure."
Stepping out, Cheol-woo headed straight into the lot. A tattooed dealer tailed him, but Cheol-woo shoved a wad of cash forward.
"Best one-ton box truck this'll buy. Engine condition first priority."
"Huh? Not gonna check it yourself?"
"I'll be back."
Short order placed, he crossed to the hospital. Past the packed reception, through the bustling ER, down a quiet hall—he badged the staff-only door.
"What's wrong? ...Oh! Head nurse! Gunshot here! X-ray first!"
Nurses popped up like meerkats. The moment Cheol-woo lifted his shirt, alarms blared. By the time they wheeled a gurney, he'd already strolled into X-ray, then out to the OR calm as you please.
A disheveled surgeon rushed in, cap half-on, peering at the X-rays.
"Gunshots? More than one. Right abdomen, one in the shoulder?"
"Ah, no wonder the shoulder's stiff."
"How much painkiller did you take not to notice?"
"Stuffed a full morphine vial right into the wound."
"...We can just operate like this."
"Yeah, do it. No sensation anyway."
"..."
It was a joke, but the patient insisted. No point arguing—local anesthesia would do for this non-major surgery.
"Shoulder's... clotted. Live with the stiffness? No major nerves or vessels hit."
"Big surgery to extract?"
"Slice muscle, eight weeks recovery min."
"Skip it then."
"Abdomen bandages... damn, packed that gauze tight. Look at the blood. Little later and you'd be cold meat."
Gauze unspooled endlessly from the wound. The surgeon chuckled dryly. How deep did that hole go? Surviving conscious was a miracle. A bit higher and it'd be liver bleed—instant death. Luck saved him.
"This one's gotta come out. Bullet's burrowing. Vessels need stitching... full anesthesia?"
"No. Gotta bounce right back."
"You're Team 1 rookie, right? What the hell you guys up to? War with Oriental?"
"..."
"Tch. Jeong Gwa-jang shut your mouths, huh."
Oriental. Where Woo Team Leader and staff died last time, pistols blazing. War? Yeah, but no details to share.
"Nurse, hold him. Listen: twitch and vessels shred, we're fucked. Then it's major surgery, sedated whether you like or not. Don't. Move."
"Yes."
Crunch crunch grind squelch rip—endless gruesome sounds. Cheol-woo just thought, I'm fucked. Worse than post-wisdom teeth hell. When anesthesia wore off...? Best bet: ditch pursuit and flee Korea first.
"Damn, lucky. Dodged all vitals like a pro."
"..."
'Cause the pig blocked 'em,' Cheol-woo swallowed the quip. Blind partition shot, bad luck. Angle-wise, Level 2 vest would've saved it. Big difference with vs without.
"Newbies straight to gunfire now? Brutal. Heard Oriental's dosing junkies—short-staffed?"
"Junkies? You mean bug-eyed, jaws ripped wide, freakishly fast ones?"
"What? No briefings? Team 1's insane. Bullets for bullets, no intel? Jeong Gwa-jang's job anyway. But careful, rookie. Those ain't human."
"..."
Obvious. And "junkies" meant some drug turned 'em. Oriental had a monster-making serum.
"Anesthesia wearing off. Sensation back."
"What? Impossible."
"Really. You're poking with needles now, right?"
"Fuck. More anesthetic. Jam it in."
"Still coming back. Ow. Hurts."
"Shit! Immune!"
"Much left?"
"Few stitches..."
"Keep going. Before full feeling."
"Tough bastard. Nurse, mouthguard in."
OR alarms blared.
Click-clack click-clack. Min Yuri's steps quickened. She'd bought a full new outfit nearby as ordered, minimized calls. Bugs? Tails? Trackers? Paranoid ravings—until the gunshot pic sold it.
What the actual fuck.
Bugs too scary for calls. No details yet, probably long story. Tail? Felt real now. "Ah."
Tail confirmed. Slowing, she spotted the blacked-out van matching pace. What the hell? Mob? Cheol-woo's debt? Question marks exploded over her head.
Her pace picked up. Van rolled after; alley dash, pursuit halted. Calming her pounding heart—gasp—convex mirror showed burly men behind. Panic hit.
She yanked her phone, trembling fingers texting.
Lipstick smeared off her gritted teeth.
Cheol-woo's texts felt solid. How's he so calm? Attitude off. But following bro's lead, she hit the main drag—crowds choked it. How'd he know peak hour here? Spot-on for a shut-in gamer. Like he was watching.
Thought she'd shaken 'em—hulks sped up. Van cornered, closing fast. Door open? This that movie shit? Heart hammered.
Crack! Something shattered. Screech! Tires slid, then boom! A roar. Footsteps thundered—thud thud—mixed with bodies hitting pavement.
Trembling, Yuri glanced back despite orders.
Van's windshield shattered, wrapped around a pole. Hulks sprawled like drunks in a pileup, dark blood pooling. Yuri gasped, muttering insane insane insane as she hurried on.