131. Because We Have to Take Sinuiju.
“What’s with all the damn racket this early in the morning? Don’t they let people sleep around here?”
No Song-rin, locked up in the patrol squad’s detention facility in Prison Village, woke up to the commotion shaking the whole building.
He scratched his neck as he got up and pressed close to the door to peer outside. It was dark beyond the tiny window in the specially reinforced iron door. Unlike his cell, faint light leaked through a crack at the end of the hallway.
This crumbling dump seemed flimsy, but the prison part’s solid enough. Figures, since it’s the old prison site. They sure didn’t skimp on the cells.
No Song-rin scrutinized the iron door and walls.
“Let’s see. Breaking out quietly’s gonna be tough. Make too much noise, and it’s game over. Hmm, even if I bust out, Ryeon Jeong-mun’s got the place locked down. Fighting my way through’s even worse. Guess I just wait for the right moment?”
Even if he escaped the cell, slipping out of the village wouldn’t be easy. Word was Chinese hunters were holding the perimeter—no clean getaway without a clash.
On one hand, it was the perfect hideout, which was why he’d gone along quietly at first. But now it was starting to grate, and he was regretting it.
“Should’ve played along. Could’ve bluffed about the assassination and bolted.”
No Song-rin recalled Ryeon Jeong-mun’s offer.
Take out Hyeon Jeong-geon, and all the fancy loot’s yours.
He’d shot it down flat.
All because of the name Hyeon Jeong-geon.
An old coworker Kang Moo-hyuk had once asked him to look into. He’d heard the guy was a broker in Sinuiju, but no way he’d figured he’d be tangled up in Prison Village.
And for the head honcho keeping order here to put out a hit? That painted a pretty nasty picture.
“Makes sense, though. Anyone who’s worked with Boss Kang ain’t your average punk.”
No Song-rin grumbled and was about to settle back into his bunk.
That’s when the door at the end of the hall creaked open, and footsteps echoed in. He shot a sidelong glance through the bars.
A long shadow stretched across the floor. Light footsteps drew closer. Then a small face peeked into view.
“Uncle?”
“Huh? Oh, you’re that kid from before? The one bawling in the underpass. Thought you were gonna shatter my eardrums, kid.”
“Wh-when did I cry? I didn’t! Something got in my eye.”
“Liar. You came running out sniveling and snitched on me.”
“Snitched?”
“Yeah, ratted me out. Told on me.”
“Oh, you mean when I told the patrol uncles?”
“That’s right, you little tattletale.”
“That’s not tattling! I just told my dad.”
“Your dad?”
“My dad’s on the patrol squad here.”
“So you ran crying to Daddy? That’s straight-up tattling, kid. You ain’t even a real man. I oughta rip yours off.”
“It’s not tattling! And I am a boy. I’m keeping mine.”
“Yeah, sure. You’re a boy. But you’re still a tattletale.”
“No, I’m not!”
“Tattlepants.”
“Ugh... waaah...”
“Whoa, hey! My bad. Don’t cry. You’re not a tattletale. Promise. Seriously, quit crying.”
“Sniff. This is your only pass. Sniff.”
“Sigh... what the hell am I doing, bantering with a kid in a cell?”
No Song-rin muttered to himself, lamenting his fate, when something clicked.
“Hang on, why’re you even here? Shouldn’t kids be asleep?”
“It’s so noisy outside, I woke up.”
“Where’s the guard out front?”
“Dunno. The uncles have been busy since morning.”
“This place got no standards? It’s worse than Taeseong. Kids wandering in and out of jail?”
“It’s not jail. It’s my house. And my school.”
“House? School?”
The kid nodded.
“What? They lock kids up too?”
“No. I mean it’s my house. The kids you saw yesterday live here too.”
No Song-rin puzzled over the kid’s words for a moment.
“So... you, your dad, your friends—all crashing at patrol HQ?”
“Yeah. We got houses in the yard. School’s next door. We all live together.”
“Whoa, talk about rock bottom. What kinda setup is this for kids? Prison as home and school?”
“That’s our village name.”
“Oh. Right.”
The name Prison Village suddenly hit home for No Song-rin.
Even if it’s shut down, what kinda life is this for a kid? Gonna turn out just like me. Tsk tsk. No wonder they never leave. Poor little guy.
Gazing down at the kid through the small window, lost in thought, a spark of an idea flashed in No Song-rin’s mind.
“Hey, kid. You know Hyeon Jeong-geon? Lives around here somewhere.”
“Yeah. Uncle Hyeon. The uncle who gives yummy snacks.”
“Score! Do me a favor, then.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“Well, look at you, negotiating.”
“Dad says no free labor. But if the pay’s solid, do the job right.”
The kid made a circle with thumb and forefinger.
No Song-rin chuckled in disbelief.
“What to do? I’m broke right now. Stuck in here, see?”
“Then forget it.”
The kid turned away. Hard to believe this was the same one crying moments ago—ice cold.
But her steps dragged, like she was hoping for something. She glanced back slyly, playing coy.
No Song-rin caught the clumsy act but played along.
“Wait! Okay, okay. Do my favor, and I’ll buy you ten boxes of snacks.”
“No credit.”
“I’ll pile ’em high with interest.”
“How high? How many boxes?”
“Enough to fill your room and overflow.”
“Don’t got a room.”
“I’ll fill your whole house.”
“Hmm... Can’t get you out, though. Dad’d kill me.”
“Just pass a message.”
“To who?”
“Hyeon Jeong-geon. The snack uncle, right? Few words to a nice guy like that’s fine, yeah?”
“That... might be okay? Probably? He’s nice. Hang on.”
“Hey, where you going?!”
The kid dashed out, then returned with pen and paper.
She sprawled on the floor scribbling, then stood on tiptoes to hand it over.
“What’s this?”
“Contract. Bad uncles welch on word deals.”
“Your dad teach you that?”
“Uncle next door.”
“Told ya, bad environment. But I’m not a bad uncle.”
“Bad guys say they’re not bad. And you’re in jail. Bad uncle, right?”
“That’s adult stuff... Sigh, hard to argue. Yeah, not a good uncle either.”
“Sign here.”
No Song-rin read the contract. Childish scrawl: “Contract.” Even mimicked Party A and B. Kid’s name at the bottom.
Party A: Park Cheol-i
“Kid, I’m Party A. The one paying.”
“Desperate one’s Party B.”
“Ugh. Next-door uncle again?”
“Auntie across the way.”
“How do they raise kids here?”
No Song-rin gave up and signed the blank by “Party B.”
Cheol-i snatched it back, satisfied.
“So, what message?”
“Tell Hyeon Jeong-geon someone sent by Iron Will Guildmaster Kang Moo-hyuk is here. No Song-rin. Ask him to drop by. Bonus if he springs me.”
* * *
Hwang Dong-soo’s early-morning summons had the patrol squad in chaos. Then Cheon Deok-su requested a meet, and the whole neighborhood buzzed.
“Could be a trap, ya know? Chinese punks been actin’ up lately, right?”
“Boss, Hwang Dong-soo’s fishy too. Formin’ factions outta nowhere at dawn?”
Lots of chatter, but Ryeon Jeong-mun shut it down.
“No matter the grudge with Cheon Deok-su, when’ve we ever dodged a sit-down?”
No one could argue.
Cheon Deok-su caught flak as a Chinese frontman and traitor, but whenever village trouble brewed, he’d hash it out with Ryeon Jeong-mun—fists last resort.
Even squabbles between their underlings rarely escalated to brawls, thanks to their iron grip.
Plus, they all knew each other from better days, so caution ruled.
“That worried? Summon Deok-su here. If he’s clean, he’ll come no questions.”
As expected, Cheon Deok-su showed—with a handful of men—as the murky sky began to brighten.
“Talk one-on-one like always?”
“Yeah.”
Ryeon Jeong-mun cleared the room. Once the office emptied, Cheon Deok-su spoke.
“Hwang Dong-soo. If that bastard pulls this, can’t sit idle.”
“Yeah. Breaks the village balance. That’s why we’ve left him alone—our deal.”
“What now? Losin’ that balance shakes the whole board.”
“Talk him down. He wants breakfast—let’s hear him out.”
“What if he won’t listen? Guy’s stubborn as hell.”
“Then no choice. Take it all the way...”
Ryeon Jeong-mun trailed off, but Cheon Deok-su got it.
“We’ll hold off that long as we can. Be a tragedy for everyone.”
* * *
Mr. Jo had slipped the encirclement overnight, shifting forms to dodge suspicion. Finally, she infiltrated Prison Village.
“This the place?”
After navigating the maze of shacks, she reached the Yiju House.
“Matches Hyeon Jeong-geon’s description. First, second, third house. But damn, hunters everywhere? Not what he said. Eh, going in’ll stir something.”
Mr. Jo shifted to Hyeon Jeong-geon’s form and dropped from the roof.
The guards around Yiju House spotted her late. She approached cautiously, braced for attack.
“Huh? Boss Hyeon?”
“Hey, you guys look beat. Why the heavy guard...?”
“Dong-soo hyung called us. Protect the Iron Will boss. That’s the gig.”
“Ah, Boss Kang? Where’s he at?”
“Up in the loft. Want me to fetch Dong-soo hyung?”
“Nah, this is my spot. No need. Haha.”
“Who’s this? Ain’t Boss Hyeon.”
A new guy butted in familiarly. Mr. Jo tensed.
Who the hell?
Luckily, a nearby hunter explained.
“Dong-soo hyung. Boss Hyeon just got here. Says he wants to see the boss.”
“Ah, got it. Come with me. He’s been waiting.”
“No need to trouble... I can find my way.”
“Can’t be rude to someone who came for the village and the boss.”
The overly polite treatment screamed Kang Moo-hyuk had pulled strings.
What’d he do to tame Sinuiju’s wild bunch? Guy’s barely holding together.
Mr. Jo followed Hwang Dong-soo inside and up the rickety stairs to the loft. There sat Kang Moo-hyuk, propped against the bed, scowling at a map-like paper while jotting notes.
“Boss Kang. Boss Hyeon’s back.”
“Haha, Boss Kang...”
As Mr. Jo waved and stepped forward, Kang Moo-hyuk’s eyes sharpened.
“Your stride’s off.”
“What? Off how?”
“Hyeon Jeong-geon hunches his shoulders a bit. Occupational habit. Who are you?”
“Son of a— Who notices that kinda—Gah!”
Before she finished, a fist rocketed toward her head. Hwang Dong-soo’s punch whipped the air. Mr. Jo reeled from the shockwave, spinning midair.
“Where you goin’?!”
Hwang Dong-soo lunged as she tried to escape range.
“Damn, this guy packs a wallop.”
Mr. Jo countered his next fist with a kick. She hated starting fights but never backed from one.
But straight-up bare-knuckle? Her weakness. He outranked her, and blocking proved he was no pushover.
“Resistance is futile! Show yourself!”
“Get your fist outta my face first!”
Dodging and parrying, Mr. Jo forced Hwang Dong-soo to draw his waist sword.
“Hey, I said fists only—who said draw steel?! Mana blade too? Stop! Stop! Boss Kang, it’s me! Me!”
Mr. Jo tried shifting fast—to the middle-aged guy Kang knew from past meets.
Shit! Deleted that save.
Her ten-slot trait meant she’d overwritten the form Kang recognized.
Current slots... none he knew.
Shhht!
Glossy black hair cascaded to her waist. Delicate face, pale skin, fine features, sharp jaw—fierce eyes clashing with her petite frame. Her true form emerged.
“It’s me, me! Boss Kang. Deal with this guy.”
Mr. Jo’s original self: Jo Si-won.
“You know her, boss?”
“Who is she?”
“You forgot this face? This pretty one?”
“Daring to seduce the boss with gumiho shapeshift tricks?! Can’t stand by!”
“Hey, sheath that sword! Kang Moo-hyuk! For real?!”
“Hunter Hwang Dong-soo, stand down. She’s one of ours.”
“Huh?”
“Just testing. Nice to see Mr. Jo’s real face again. You overwrote the detective look?”
“You knew it was me from the start?”
“Yeah. Caught your gliding toe-walk.”
“Son of a... Why’s a blade at my throat?!”
“Weren’t you about to curse the boss?”
“You stab for swearing here?”
“Depends.”
Mr. Jo turned and mouthed silent curses.
Kang Moo-hyuk addressed her mid-grumble.
“Mr. Jo coming here means Guildmaster Joo sent you. Hyeon Jeong-geon form means you met. She didn’t come herself, so... guild trouble?”
“Always straight with you, Boss Kang. Yeah, Joo Guildmaster’s tied up with Baekho punks causing havoc. Met Hyeon Jeong-geon, Go Eul-ji too. So just bust you out now. Heard you need shots to not die? Freaked me out hearing you’re sick.”
Hwang Dong-soo flinched at “take Kang away”—especially “die.” He remembered Kang’s promise.
Kang Moo-hyuk mulled it over before speaking.
“Not now.”
“What? Why?”
“Because we have to take Sinuiju.”