Chapter Text
It was still dark outside when Seungcheol stepped out to the damp streets. The metal outer gate slammed shut behind him with a loud bang, but he paid it no mind. The sound was just as much part of his morning routine as the familiar movement of dipping his hand into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. There was only one left in the tattered box, which made the man click his tongue annoyedly before putting the cigarette between his lips. He would need to stop by a seven-eleven on the way. What a hassle.
Despite going to the same convenience store for the past five years and having met this exact cashier multiple times, they still flinched when Seungcheol made eye contact with them. Maybe it was due to his physique, his broad shoulders and the thick biceps filling out his worn leather jacket to make him look intimidating. It could also be the huge phoenix tattoo that spread out on the left side of his neck and disappeared under his black shirt. But most likely it was his face with his thick eyebrows that were furrowed most of the time, making his gaze even sharper, giving the chills to even grown men.
The poor student behind the counter did not stand a chance.
“Two packs of Marlboro Red,” he said in lieu of a greeting.
“Y-yes, right away, sir,” the student stammered, and he almost dropped the cigarettes in his hurry. “It will be 9,000 won, sir.”
Seungcheol fished out a crumpled 10,000-won bill and dropped it on the counter before reaching for the cigarettes.
“Keep the change.”
He left without waiting for an answer, so he could not witness the student’s legs giving out as he slumped into his chair. He was clearly relieved to live to see another day.
The neighbourhood was still in the midst of waking up when Seungcheol reached the warehouse he had been working at for the past month. Unlike any other day, there were no men hurrying to unload the small trucks in the parking lot as they were all gathered in front of the manager’s office.
It has been almost two weeks since they should have gotten their paycheck for the previous month, which has yet to happen. Understandably, people were quite upset about it. Including Seungcheol.
The group was terribly loud as they yelled over each other, demanding that the boss come out immediately. The string of security guards were the only reason they had not charged into the office yet. Seungcheol stopped at the side of the crowd, lighting a cigarette and assessing the situation quietly.
One could call it the quiet before the storm.
It was almost comical how no one really noticed him going around the group and the guards to the side entrance, which was entirely unguarded. Rookie mistake.
The door wasn’t even locked, so Seungcheol could walk in freely after he flicked away the cigarette butt in the doorway.
The manager’s office was a considerable size, with the ground floor acting as a repository with endless rows of filing cabinets and the actual office being on the second floor. Narrow, concrete stairs led upstairs that Seungcheol took two at a time.
His black sneakers made almost to no sound, so it wasn’t much of a surprise that the boss did not see him coming.
Kwak Jinho was a man in his early forties who inherited his warehouse from his father, but while the senior Mr Kwak had a reputation for being a trustworthy and competent businessman, his son did not possess any of those qualities. While the profits did rise exponentially after he became the manager, it wasn’t the result of hard work, but rather some shady dealings and unethical conduct. Seungcheol wasn’t exactly on a moral high horse either, so he had no qualms about working for the man. However, Kwak Jinho made the mistake of not paying his people on time, and Choi Seungcheol was not known for his patience. He always collected his debts.
It was almost ironic how Seungcheol found Jinho counting money behind his comically large, wooden desk. There were thick stacks of 50,000 won notes in neat rows, seemingly enough to cover the wages of every worker outside and some more, but the manager did not look like he was preparing for payday.
“Good profit?” Seungcheol asked conversationally as he stepped further into the office.
Jinho visibly flinched at the sudden sound, but his confused expression quickly turned into a snarl. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Someone who is very concerned about his late paycheck,” Seungcheol cocked his head to the side, the movement drawing attention to his tattoo.
For a brief second, there was hesitation in Jinho’s eyes, but he did not back down. “You will get your money soon. Now, fuck off.”
“Wrong answer,” Seungcheol grinned, but it was all sharp and threatening. Exactly the kind of smile that gave people the chills.
Jinho did not even have time to register the words before Seungcheol grabbed one of the foldable metal chairs from the front of the table and lunged. Even if the man had anticipated and fully prepared for the attack, he still would have been no match for Seungcheol.
Jinho fell out of his seat when he tried to flee on instinct, but Seungcheol didn’t let him get away. The chair came down once, twice, three times on the man’s body until there was a sickening sound of a bone cracking, followed by Jinho’s animalistic scream.
“Please, don’t kill me. Please, I will pay, please,” The manager all but bawled as he drooled blood on the floor.
“Glad to see that we are finally on the same page,” Seungcheol hummed as he dropped his impromptu weapon. It landed with a bang on the floor next to Jinho’s head, who visibly flinched and curled in on himself further.
“Take however much you want, just please don’t kill me,” Jinho sobbed as he cradled his left side gingerly. From the looks of it, Seungcheol might have cracked one of his ribs with the chair. Given that he could have easily killed him, Seungcheol considered himself merciful for only breaking a rib.
He did what he was told without wasting even one more look on the pathetic man on the floor. He shrugged off his backpack and grabbed a few stacks of neatly wrapped banknotes to throw them into it. It was definitely more than what he was due for his labour, but he decided that Jinho owed him this much for sparing his pathetic life.
“Next time, pay your employees on time,” Seungcheol tutted before spitting beside the manager’s head.
Jinho could only nod vehemently while a disgusting mixture of tears, drool, blood and snot dripped from his face.
Seungcheol exited the building just as seamlessly as he entered, and he lit up another cigarette while walking away from the building. He would probably need to look into another job in case Jinho did something stupid, like trying to take revenge or calling the police on him.
Although Seungcheol was not particularly afraid of any of the above, he would rather not go back to prison. He only got out five years ago, and he quite enjoyed his freedom.
With his pay secured, Seungcheol made his way towards the bank to wire the monthly allowance for his older brother. Seungmin was always anxious when Seungcheol did not send the money in time, constantly harassing him in messages and calling Seungcheol nonstop. He was unusually quiet these past weeks, and Seungcheol was starting to worry that his idiot of a brother got into trouble again.
As if on cue, his phone started ringing, but it wasn’t his brother’s number on the caller ID. Seungcheol’s sixth sense was telling him that this was likely to be bad news, but he still took the call.
“Good afternoon, my name is Detective Park from the Yeongdo police station. Am I speaking to Mr Choi Seungcheol?”
There it was.
“Yes, that’s me.”
★
Seungcheol could not say that he wasn’t familiar with police stations. He sat in creaky waiting room chairs like this a lot ever since he became a gang member at sixteen. This time, however, he wasn’t there because of something he had committed.
Detective Park greeted him with a respectful bow before walking Seungcheol down to the mortuary. It was one of the most chilling places Seungcheol had ever been to, and that says a lot given the fact that he used to be a member of the biggest gang in Busan for almost a decade.
There was no one else around, just the two of them under the harsh neon lights, and Seungcheol had to try his best not to think about the fact that he was essentially surrounded by corpses.
They approached the examination table in the middle of the room, their footsteps echoing in the wide room. There was already a sheen layer of sweat on Seungcheol’s forehead, but he made no move to wipe it away with his slightly trembling hands.
His fingers hesitated over the white sheet that kept the body covered, but he refused to let the detective do the reveal for him. He could do this. He had to.
With a decisive movement, he pulled the sheet off, bunching it up at the pelvis of the man under it.
For long moments, Seungcheol could not do anything but stare at the figure numbly.
His brother’s skin, which was always tan and had a healthy shine, was dull and pale now. It made Seungmin’s huge phoenix tattoo on his chest more prominent, along with the smaller artworks littering his stomach and upper arm. Seungcheol always thought them ugly, but he could not tease his brother about them anymore.
Seungmin’s neck seemed like one huge bruise altogether, and it lay at a slightly weird angle. It must have been the result of falling down from the top of the lighthouse, as the detective told him earlier.
His brother was terribly afraid of heights, so he sure would not have climbed the 35 metres high building without a reason. And that reason was probably connected to the bullet wound just above Seungmin’s heart.
Even though Seungcheol had left the gang life behind after he came out of jail, the revenge was not a question. Maybe the Busan underworld needed a reminder of who Choi Seungcheol was.