Fate in the Rain

Whispers in Hongdae

The cedar-scented air of the Hongdae guesthouse felt stifling as Han’s urgent words echoed through the paper-thin walls: Someone’s here. And they’re asking for you, Min-jae—by name. Kang Min-jae’s heart thudded, his hand still clasped around Soo-jin’s, her fingers trembling in the dim light of the small room. The warmth of the ondol-heated floor did little to ease the chill creeping up his spine. The man in the dark coat, Lee Soo-kyung, the drone on Namsan—now this. Whoever was at the door knew him, and the weight of that knowledge felt like a noose tightening around his neck.Soo-jin’s eyes locked onto his, wide with fear but sharp with resolve. “Who could it be?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the distant thump of K-pop from Hongdae’s streets. “No one should know you’re here.”Min-jae’s mind raced, the ghost of Soo-kyung’s cold smile from Namsan flashing before him. Her voice—You should’ve stayed in your lane—had dredged up memories of his mother’s warnings, of debts and danger in Incheon. Was this her doing? Or was it Joon-ho, Soo-jin’s fiancé, tightening the screws? The folder with the Choi Foundation contract, still in his bag, seemed to pulse with its own menace, a reminder of the choice he hadn’t made.“Stay here,” he said, releasing Soo-jin’s hand and standing, his voice steadier than he felt. “I’ll see who it is.”“No,” she hissed, grabbing his wrist. “If it’s my father’s people, they’ll take you. We face this together.”Her defiance, even in fear, stirred something in him—admiration, maybe, or something deeper he wasn’t ready to name. He nodded, and they followed Han to the guesthouse’s courtyard, where fairy lights cast a soft glow over the hanok’s tiled roof. Han stood by the front door, his scarred face tense, a kitchen knife tucked discreetly in his hand. “They’re outside,” he murmured. “One person, no car. But they know your name, kid. That’s bad.”Min-jae peered through a c***k in the wooden door, his breath catching. A young man stood in the alley, his face half-hidden by a baseball cap, his posture nervous but deliberate. He wasn’t the man in the coat or Joon-ho, but something about him felt familiar, like a shadow from a dream. “Open it,” Min-jae said, his gut twisting. “Let’s see what he wants.”Han hesitated, then slid the door open. The young man looked up, his eyes locking onto Min-jae’s with a mix of relief and urgency. He was about Min-jae’s age, with sharp cheekbones and a worn jacket that mirrored Min-jae’s own. “Kang Min-jae,” he said, his voice low but clear. “We need to talk. Alone.”Soo-jin stepped forward, her voice sharp. “He’s not alone. Who are you, and how do you know him?”The man’s gaze flicked to her, then back to Min-jae, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “I’m Park Ji-hoon,” he said. “We grew up in the same neighborhood in Incheon. You don’t remember me, but I remember you. And I know about her.” He nodded toward Soo-jin, his expression darkening. “You’re in deep, Min-jae. You need to hear what I have to say.”Min-jae’s heart stuttered. Incheon. The name alone dragged him back to crumbling apartments, his mother’s tired eyes, the constant fear of debt collectors. Ji-hoon’s face tugged at a vague memory—a boy who’d shared instant noodles with him on a street corner, a fleeting friend before life tore them apart. “How did you find me?” Min-jae asked, his voice rough.“Lee Soo-kyung,” Ji-hoon said, his eyes narrowing. “She’s been sniffing around Incheon, asking about you. She works for the Chois now, but she’s got her own agenda. I followed her trail to Seoul. You’re not safe, man. Not with her.” He glanced at Soo-jin, his voice dropping. “And not with her family.”Soo-jin’s face tightened, but she didn’t flinch. “If you’re here to warn him, say it. But don’t act like I’m the enemy.”Ji-hoon’s laugh was bitter. “Lady, you’re a Choi. Your family’s the reason people like us don’t stand a chance. Min-jae, your mom—she didn’t just die. Soo-kyung was there, working for someone tied to the Chois. You want the truth? Come with me. I’ve got proof.”The words hit Min-jae like a fist, his breath catching. His mother’s death—officially a heart condition, but always shrouded in questions he’d been too young to ask—suddenly felt like a wound reopened. “Proof of what?” he demanded, stepping closer, his voice shaking. “What do you know about my mom?”Ji-hoon glanced at the alley, his posture tense. “Not here. There’s a place in Itaewon, a bar where we can talk. I’ve got documents, photos—things Soo-kyung left behind. But we need to move now. They’re close.”Soo-jin grabbed Min-jae’s arm, her voice urgent. “Min-jae, we can’t trust him. He could be working for my father, or Joon-ho. We need to stick to the plan—get to Busan.”Min-jae’s eyes flicked between them—Ji-hoon’s desperate gaze, Soo-jin’s pleading one. The contract in his bag, the USB drive in hers, the g*n on Namsan—all of it swirled in his mind, a storm of choices. Ji-hoon’s words about his mother cut deep, but Soo-jin’s touch, her trust, anchored him. “What kind of proof?” he asked Ji-hoon, his voice low.“Loan records,” Ji-hoon said. “Your mom owed money to a shark tied to Choi Enterprises. Soo-kyung collected. There’s more—names, dates. It’s not just about you. It’s about what they’re hiding.”Soo-jin’s grip tightened. “He’s lying, Min-jae. My father’s ruthless, but he wouldn’t—” She stopped, her eyes flickering with doubt. “We need to go to Busan. The evidence there—it’ll explain everything.”Min-jae’s head pounded. Ji-hoon’s story rang true, too close to the fragments of his mother’s warnings. But Soo-jin’s fear, her vulnerability, was real too. He turned to Ji-hoon. “Show me one thing. Right now. Prove you’re not playing me.”Ji-hoon hesitated, then pulled a crumpled photo from his pocket. It was old, faded, showing a younger Soo-kyung standing outside a run-down Incheon building, a man in a suit beside her. Min-jae’s breath caught—the building was his childhood home. “This was taken a month before your mom died,” Ji-hoon said. “The man? He worked for Choi Enterprises.”Soo-jin’s face paled, her hand dropping from Min-jae’s arm. “That’s… my uncle,” she whispered. “He died years ago. Min-jae, I didn’t know.”The revelation hit like a tidal wave, tying their pasts in a knot Min-jae couldn’t unravel. His mother, Soo-jin’s family, Soo-kyung—it was all connected, and he was caught in the middle. “We go to Itaewon,” he said finally, his voice hard. “But you’re coming with us,” he told Soo-jin. “No more splitting up.”She nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Okay. Together.”Han stepped forward, his knife still in hand. “I’ll drive you,” he said. “But make it quick. Hongdae’s crawling with eyes tonight.”They piled into Han’s beat-up van, the city’s neon blurring past as they headed to Itaewon. The bar Ji-hoon led them to was a dive, tucked in an alley smelling of soju and fried chicken. Inside, the air was thick with cigarette smoke, the hum of conversation barely covering the tension. Ji-hoon slid into a booth, pulling a small folder from his jacket. “This is what I have,” he said, spreading out papers—loan agreements, a photo of Soo-kyung with Min-jae’s mother, and a ledger with Choi Enterprises’ logo.Min-jae’s hands shook as he scanned the documents, the truth sinking in. His mother’s debt wasn’t random—it was tied to the Chois, to the same empire Soo-jin was fighting. He looked at her, his voice raw. “Did you know?”“No,” she said, her voice breaking. “I swear, Min-jae. I knew my father was dirty, but not this. Not you.”Before he could respond, the bar’s door slammed open. Joon-ho strode in, his tailored coat stark against the grimy walls, flanked by two men in dark suits. His eyes locked onto Soo-jin, then Min-jae, a predatory smile curling his lips. “Found you,” he said. “And just in time for the train.”