Fate in the Rain

Trapped on the Tracks

The KTX train sliced through the night, its sleek interior a cocoon of soft lights and muted hums, but the chilling voice on the intercom shattered any illusion of safety. “Passengers Kang Min-jae and Choi Soo-jin, we know you’re on board. Stay where you are, and no one gets hurt.” The words hung in the air, cold and precise, sending a shiver down Kang Min-jae’s spine. He sat rigid in the plush train seat, his hand gripping Soo-jin’s, her fingers cold despite the warmth of their connection. Across the aisle, Park Ji-hoon’s face was taut, his eyes scanning the car for threats, his earlier revelation about Soo-jin’s uncle still echoing in Min-jae’s mind.Soo-jin’s breath hitched, her backpack clutched tightly to her chest, the USB drive and documents inside their only hope against her father’s empire. Her eyes, wide with fear, met Min-jae’s. “How do they know we’re here?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the train’s steady rhythm. “Han wouldn’t betray us.”Min-jae’s jaw clenched, his mind racing. Han, the scarred guesthouse owner, had stayed behind in Itaewon to hold off Joon-ho’s men, but Ji-hoon’s text suggested he’d been caught. The letter from Soo-jin’s mother, Hye-jin, to Min-jae’s mother, Eun-ji, lay heavy in his bag, its words—The evidence is in Busan—tying their pasts to the Choi family’s secrets. Ji-hoon’s bombshell about Soo-jin’s uncle, supposedly dead but alive in Busan, added another layer of danger. Was the voice on the intercom Joon-ho? Lee Soo-kyung? Or someone else entirely?Ji-hoon leaned closer, his voice low and urgent. “We need to move,” he said. “They’ll search the train. There’s a baggage car at the back—less crowded, easier to hide.”Min-jae’s eyes narrowed. Ji-hoon’s sudden appearance in Hongdae, his documents, his warnings—they all felt too convenient, yet his claim about owing Min-jae’s mother rang true. “You’re sure about this baggage car?” Min-jae asked, his tone sharp. “Or are you leading us straight to them?”Ji-hoon’s lip curled, blood still crusted from the Itaewon fight. “You don’t trust me, fine. But I’m not the one with a g*n-toting fiancé after me.” He glanced at Soo-jin, his expression softening slightly. “Your call, Choi. But we’re sitting ducks here.”Soo-jin’s gaze flicked to Min-jae, her eyes pleading for unity. “We can’t stay here,” she said. “If they’re on the train, they’ll find us. Let’s go.”Min-jae nodded, though doubt gnawed at him. He grabbed his bag, the Choi Foundation contract inside a constant reminder of the life he could’ve had—tuition paid, debts cleared, a future without running. But Soo-jin’s touch, her belief in him, pulled stronger. They slipped out of their seats, moving quietly through the car, the other passengers oblivious, their faces buried in phones or dozing under the train’s sway.The KTX’s corridors were narrow, the fluorescent lights casting stark shadows. Min-jae led, Soo-jin close behind, Ji-hoon bringing up the rear. The train’s rhythm—click-clack, click-clack—matched Min-jae’s pounding heart. They passed a dining car, the smell of instant coffee and ramyeon mingling with the tension. A conductor glanced at them but said nothing, his focus on a clipboard. Min-jae’s eyes scanned for Joon-ho’s tailored coat or Soo-kyung’s sharp silhouette, but the corridors were clear—for now.They reached the baggage car, a dimly lit space crammed with suitcases and cargo crates. The air was cooler here, tinged with the metallic scent of the train. Ji-hoon wedged the door shut with a crate, his movements swift. “This buys us time,” he said. “But not much.”Soo-jin sank against a stack of bags, her face pale. “My uncle,” she said, her voice trembling. “You said he’s alive, Ji-hoon. Why didn’t he contact me? Why hide all these years?”Ji-hoon crouched, his eyes guarded. “Your father made sure he couldn’t,” he said. “Your uncle—Lee Min-soo—was your mother’s brother. He worked for Choi Enterprises, saw too much. When he tried to blow the whistle, your father staged his death. He’s been in Busan, gathering evidence, waiting for a chance to strike back.”Min-jae’s chest tightened, the letter’s words echoing: We’re close. The evidence is in Busan. His mother had been part of that fight, alongside Soo-jin’s mother and uncle. “And Soo-kyung?” he asked, his voice rough. “She was there when my mom died. What’s her role?”Ji-hoon’s expression darkened. “She’s a fixer. Always has been. Back in Incheon, she worked for the loan shark your mom owed. That shark answered to your father, Soo-jin. Now she’s his enforcer, cleaning up his messes. Including us.”Soo-jin’s eyes glistened, her hands shaking as she clutched the backpack. “I didn’t know,” she whispered. “My father… he kept me in the dark. My mother, your mother, my uncle—I thought they were gone. I thought I was alone.”Min-jae’s heart ached at the pain in her voice. He knelt beside her, his hand brushing hers. “You’re not alone,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “We’re in this together. We’ll get to Busan, find your uncle, finish what they started.”Her eyes met his, a spark of hope cutting through her fear. She leaned closer, her forehead brushing his, a fleeting moment of warmth in the cold baggage car. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For believing in me.”Ji-hoon cleared his throat, breaking the moment. “Save the romance,” he said. “We’ve got company.”A sharp knock rattled the door, followed by a muffled voice. “Open it. Now.” It wasn’t Joon-ho or Soo-kyung—someone new, authoritative, with a clipped tone that sent a chill through Min-jae.Ji-hoon motioned for silence, pulling his knife. Min-jae scanned the car, spotting a narrow vent near the ceiling, barely wide enough for a person. “Up there,” he whispered, pointing. “It might lead to the next car.”Soo-jin nodded, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. Min-jae boosted her up, her hands scrabbling for the vent’s edge. She pulled herself through, her legs disappearing into the darkness. Min-jae followed, the metal cold against his palms, Ji-hoon close behind. The vent was tight, the air stale, but it opened into a maintenance crawlspace, wires and pipes lining the walls.They crawled forward, the train’s vibrations rattling their bones. Below, the baggage car door splintered, footsteps echoing. “Spread out,” the same voice barked. “They’re here somewhere.”Min-jae’s pulse raced, his mind flashing to the lock on Namsan’s fence, their promise to return. He glanced at Soo-jin, her face set with determination despite the fear in her eyes. “We’re almost there,” he whispered, more to himself than her.The crawlspace led to another vent, this one opening above a passenger car. They dropped down, landing softly in an empty aisle. The car was quiet, most passengers asleep, the lights dimmed. But as they moved toward the next car, a figure stepped into the aisle ahead—Joon-ho, his tailored coat pristine, his smile cold as ice.“Going somewhere?” he said, his voice smooth but deadly. He raised a phone, its screen glowing with a live feed—a grainy image of Han, bloodied and bound, in a dark room. “Your friend Han was… cooperative. Busan’s a bad idea, Soo-jin.”Soo-jin’s breath caught, her hand tightening on Min-jae’s. “Let him go,” she said, her voice shaking with rage. “This is between us.”Joon-ho’s smile widened. “Oh, it’s bigger than us. Your father’s waiting, and he’s not happy.” He glanced at Min-jae, his eyes narrowing. “You, though—you’re a problem I can solve.”Before Min-jae could react, Ji-hoon lunged, his knife flashing. Joon-ho sidestepped, grabbing Ji-hoon’s wrist and twisting, the knife clattering to the floor. Passengers stirred, murmurs rising, but Joon-ho’s men appeared at the car’s ends, blocking escape.Soo-jin pulled Min-jae back, her voice urgent. “The emergency exit,” she whispered, nodding toward a red lever near the door. “It’ll stop the train.”Min-jae hesitated, Ji-hoon’s struggle with Joon-ho buying them seconds. The evidence in Busan, their mothers’ legacy, their promise—it all hinged on this moment. He grabbed the lever, yanking it hard. The train screeched, lurching to a stop, throwing everyone off balance. Alarms blared, passengers shouting as the lights flickered.“Now!” Min-jae yelled, pulling Soo-jin toward the door. But as it slid open, a figure stood on the tracks outside—Lee Soo-kyung, her g*n raised, her smile colder than the night air. And beside her was a man Min-jae didn’t recognize, his face scarred and familiar, his eyes locked on Soo-jin with a mix of sorrow and resolve.“Soo-jin,” the man said, his voice heavy. “It’s time to come home.”