Fate in the Rain

The Price of Truth

The dawn light over Busan’s neon-lit streets cast a surreal glow on Choi Dong-hyun, his tailored suit a stark contrast to the gritty alley where he stood, his cold eyes fixed on Soo-jin. The helicopter’s blades slowed behind him, its searchlight dimming, but the threat of his words—“Give me the evidence, and your friend lives. Refuse, and Busan burns”—hung heavy in the air. Kang Min-jae gripped Soo-jin’s hand, the motorcycle’s engine still warm beneath them, Kim Seo-yeon’s laptop clutched between them, its upload complete but untested. Park Ji-hoon, bloodied and bound, stood beside Choi Dong-hyun, his eyes pleading, his survival a shock that twisted Min-jae’s gut.Soo-jin’s breath hitched, her backpack heavy with the USB drive and salvaged documents, her face a mix of fury and heartbreak. “Ji-hoon,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “You said he was dead.” Her eyes flicked to her father, rage burning through her tears. “What did you do to him?”Choi Dong-hyun’s smile was razor-sharp, his voice smooth as ice. “Your friend made a choice,” he said, nudging Ji-hoon forward. “He told us about the train, the safehouse. In exchange, he lives. For now.”Ji-hoon’s head hung low, blood dripping from a gash on his cheek, but his eyes met Min-jae’s, filled with shame. “I’m sorry,” he rasped. “They had me… no choice.”Min-jae’s heart sank, the betrayal cutting deep. Ji-hoon’s documents, his story about owing Min-jae’s mother—it had all led them here, but at what cost? The letter from Hye-jin to Eun-ji, the evidence in Busan, the sacrifices of Han and Min-soo—all teetered on the edge of Choi Dong-hyun’s power. The radio station, their last hope to broadcast the evidence, was a block away, its antenna glinting in the dawn, but the alley was a choke point, Choi’s men emerging from the shadows, guns drawn.Soo-jin stepped forward, her voice steady despite the tremble in her hands. “You can’t stop this,” she said to her father. “The evidence is uploaded—prosecutors, the press, they have it. You’re done.”Choi Dong-hyun’s laugh was low, menacing. “You think a few files will bring me down? I own this city, Soo-jin. The police, the media—everyone answers to me. Hand over the drive, and I might let you walk away.”Min-jae’s jaw clenched, his mind racing. Kim Seo-yeon, the journalist, stood behind them, her face set with determination, the laptop still in her hands. “The upload’s secure,” she whispered. “Encrypted servers, international outlets. He’s bluffing—he can’t stop it now.”But Choi Dong-hyun’s eyes gleamed with confidence, his hand raising a phone. “One call,” he said, “and your journalist’s office burns, just like the warehouse. Your mother, your uncle—they’re still in my hands, Soo-jin. Choose wisely.”Soo-jin’s face paled, her eyes flicking to Min-jae, the weight of her mother’s sacrifice—Hye-jin’s stand in the warehouse, her bloodied arm—crushing her. Min-jae’s heart ached, the lock on Namsan’s fence, their promise to return, a fading hope. “We can’t give in,” he said, his voice low but firm. “Your mother, Min-soo—they fought for this. We have to finish it.”Soo-jin nodded, her eyes glistening but resolute. She turned to Seo-yeon. “The radio station,” she said. “Can you get the recordings out?”Seo-yeon’s lips tightened, her eyes scanning the alley. “If we reach it, yes,” she said. “But we need a distraction.”Min-jae’s eyes flicked to Ji-hoon, his bound hands a reminder of his betrayal—and his potential redemption. “Ji-hoon,” he called, his voice sharp. “You owe my mother. Help us now, or you’re no better than him.”Ji-hoon’s head snapped up, his eyes flashing with guilt. He nodded, subtle but clear, and suddenly lunged at Choi Dong-hyun, tackling him to the ground. The guards shouted, guns swiveling, giving Min-jae the opening he needed. “Go!” he yelled, pulling Soo-jin toward the radio station, Seo-yeon sprinting beside them.They tore through the alley, Busan’s morning bustle waking around them—street vendors setting up stalls, the smell of grilled fish and kimchi stew thick in the air. The radio station’s door was unmarked, tucked between a PC bang and a noraebang, its antenna towering above. Seo-yeon fumbled with a key, her hands shaking as the helicopter’s roar grew louder, its light sweeping the street.Inside, the station was a cramped maze of equipment, microphones, and blinking consoles. A man in his fifties, wiry with graying hair, looked up from a soundboard. “Seo-yeon?” he asked, his eyes widening at their disheveled state. “What’s going on?”“No time,” Seo-yeon said, plugging her laptop into the console. “We need to broadcast now. Audio files—Choi Enterprises’ crimes. It’s life or death.”The man nodded, his hands flying over the controls. Soo-jin handed over the USB drive, her voice urgent. “The recordings—my father’s voice, his deals. Get them out.”Min-jae stood by the door, his heart pounding as shouts echoed outside. Ji-hoon’s distraction wouldn’t last—Choi Dong-hyun’s men were closing in. The console lit up, the man’s voice calm as he patched the audio through. “This is Busan Free Wave,” he said into the mic. “We’re interrupting with an urgent broadcast.”The first recording crackled to life—Choi Dong-hyun’s voice, cold and commanding, arranging a payoff to a g**g leader. Min-jae’s breath caught, the truth spilling into the airwaves. Soo-jin’s eyes glistened, her hand finding his, their fingers intertwining. “It’s working,” she whispered, her voice trembling with hope.But the door burst open, Lee Soo-kyung storming in, her shoulder bloodied but her g*n steady. Behind her, Joon-ho dragged Ji-hoon, his face bruised, his hands still bound. “Stop the broadcast,” Soo-kyung snarled, her g*n aimed at Soo-jin. “Or I shoot.”The station manager froze, his hand hovering over the console. Seo-yeon stepped forward, her voice defiant. “It’s already out,” she said. “International servers, live streams—you can’t stop it.”Joon-ho’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on Ji-hoon. “Then we take what’s left,” he said, nodding to the backpack. “The drive, the documents—now.”Soo-jin’s hand tightened on Min-jae’s, her eyes flicking to the console, where the second recording—Min-soo’s voice, confessing his role—began to play. “No,” she said, her voice fierce. “You’ve lost, Joon-ho. The world knows.”Soo-kyung’s smile was cold, her g*n shifting to Min-jae. “Maybe,” she said. “But I can still make you hurt.”Before she could fire, Ji-hoon twisted free, slamming into her, the g*n skidding across the floor. Min-jae lunged, grabbing it, his hands shaking as he aimed at Joon-ho. “Back off,” he said, his voice raw. “It’s over.”Joon-ho’s laugh was bitter, his eyes glinting with defiance. “You think a broadcast ends this? My men are outside, and your father’s helicopter is circling. You’re trapped.”The station manager’s voice cut through, calm but urgent. “The broadcast’s live on social media—X, global news feeds. Choi Enterprises is trending. You can’t bury this.”Soo-jin’s eyes widened, hope flickering, but the helicopter’s roar grew louder, its light flooding the room through the windows. Choi Dong-hyun’s voice boomed again, this time from the door. “Enough,” he said, stepping inside, his presence suffocating. Hye-jin and Min-soo were behind him, bound and bloodied, guarded by two men. “Soo-jin, you’ve disappointed me. But it’s not too late to come home.”Soo-jin’s face hardened, her voice steady. “You’re not my home,” she said. “You never were.”Min-jae’s grip on the g*n tightened, his heart pounding. The evidence was out, but Choi Dong-hyun’s power was undeniable—Hye-jin and Min-soo’s lives hung in the balance, and Ji-hoon’s betrayal had cost them dearly. He glanced at Soo-jin, their shared resolve a lifeline, the lock on Namsan’s fence a distant vow.Seo-yeon’s laptop pinged, a notification flashing—confirmation from an international news outlet. “It’s done,” she said, her voice triumphant. “The evidence is public. Prosecutors are moving.”Choi Dong-hyun’s face twisted, rage breaking his composure. He nodded to his men, who raised their guns, but before they could fire, a new sound erupted—sirens, not Choi’s police, but federal agents, their lights flooding the street. The helicopter veered away, its roar fading as shouts echoed outside.“You’re finished,” Soo-jin said, her voice cutting through the chaos. “It’s over.”Choi Dong-hyun’s eyes locked onto hers, a flicker of something—regret, perhaps—crossing his face. Then he turned, bolting for the door, his men following. But as he reached the threshold, a gunshot rang out, and he stumbled, blood blooming on his chest. Behind him stood Hye-jin, her hands free, a guard’s g*n trembling in her grip.“Mom!” Soo-jin screamed, rushing to her as Choi Dong-hyun fell, his eyes wide with shock.Hye-jin dropped the g*n, her face crumpling. “I had to,” she whispered. “For you.”But as federal agents stormed the station, a new figure emerged from the shadows—a woman, her face obscured, holding a device that blinked red, just like the one at the warehouse. “You thought it was over?” she said, her voice chillingly familiar, and pressed the button.