Fate in the Rain

The Train at Midnight

The neon glow of Seoul Station loomed like a beacon in the night, its glass facade reflecting the city’s restless pulse. Inside Han’s beat-up van, Kang Min-jae’s heart pounded as he stared at the black SUV blocking their path. Joon-ho stood in the shadowed lot, his cold eyes fixed on the van, while Lee Soo-kyung, the ghost from Min-jae’s past, held a g*n with chilling precision. Her sharp features, etched with a cruel familiarity, brought back memories of Incheon’s crumbling streets and his mother’s whispered fears. The letter in Min-jae’s hand—written by Soo-jin’s mother, Hye-jin, to his own—burned with secrets that tied their fates to the Choi empire’s dark underbelly.Soo-jin clutched her backpack, the USB drive and documents inside their only leverage against her father’s empire. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with the shock of the letter’s revelation: their mothers had been allies, working to expose Choi Enterprises’ illicit deals. “Min-jae,” she whispered, her voice trembling but resolute, “we need to get to that train.”Min-jae glanced at Park Ji-hoon in the back seat, his childhood acquaintance who’d dropped the bombshell about their mothers. Ji-hoon’s warning—You’re walking into a trap—rang in his ears, but the KTX to Busan was their only shot at reaching the safehouse and the evidence Soo-jin’s contact promised. The station clock read 9:45 p.m.; the train left in fifteen minutes. “We can’t stay here,” Min-jae said, his voice low. “They’ll kill us.”Ji-hoon leaned forward, his bloodied lip from the Itaewon fight curling into a grimace. “You think you can outrun them? Soo-kyung’s not just muscle—she’s personal. And Joon-ho’s got your number, Choi.”Soo-jin’s eyes flashed. “Don’t call me that,” she snapped. “If you’re not helping, get out.”Min-jae’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, his mind racing. Ji-hoon’s documents—loan records, photos, the letter—linked his mother’s death to the Chois, but his sudden appearance felt too convenient. Was he an ally or a plant? Soo-jin’s trust in her Busan contact, Han’s sacrifice in Itaewon, the lock they’d placed on Namsan’s fence—it all pulled him toward her, but doubt gnawed at him. “Ji-hoon,” he said, his voice hard, “if you’re with us, prove it. Get us to the platform.”Ji-hoon hesitated, then nodded. “There’s a service entrance near the east side of the station. Delivery trucks use it. If we can get there, we might slip through.”Min-jae didn’t trust him, but he had no better plan. He threw the van into reverse, tires screeching as he swerved around the lot’s edge, aiming for a side street. Joon-ho shouted, and Soo-kyung raised her g*n, but the SUV’s bulk slowed their pursuit. A shot rang out, shattering the van’s rear window, glass spraying across the back seat. Soo-jin ducked, pulling Ji-hoon down with her, her backpack clutched to her chest.“Keep going!” she yelled, her voice fierce despite the fear in her eyes.Min-jae floored the gas, weaving through Yongsan’s narrow alleys, the station’s lights growing closer. The service entrance Ji-hoon mentioned was tucked behind a row of food carts, its metal gate ajar. Min-jae slammed on the brakes, the van skidding to a stop. “Move,” he said, grabbing his bag with the Choi contract, its unsigned pages a lingering temptation.They bolted from the van, Ji-hoon leading the way through the gate into a dimly lit corridor smelling of diesel and damp concrete. Seoul Station’s chaos filtered through—announcements in Korean and English, the shuffle of late-night travelers, the hum of escalators. Ji-hoon pointed to a stairwell. “Platform 7. The KTX to Busan. Hur****** sprinted up the stairs, the station’s neon glow spilling through the windows. The platform was crowded, commuters clutching tickets and coffee, oblivious to the danger trailing Min-jae and Soo-jin. They slipped into the throng, Ji-hoon close behind, his eyes scanning for threats. Min-jae’s heart pounded, the weight of Soo-kyung’s g*n and Joon-ho’s pursuit pressing against his nerves. Soo-jin’s hand brushed his, a fleeting anchor in the chaos.“Tickets,” she whispered, pulling the envelope from her backpack. “We’re cutting it close.”They reached the ticket gate, scanning the QR codes from Soo-jin’s cash-bought tickets. The attendant barely glanced at them, waving them through. Platform 7 buzzed with last-minute passengers, the KTX’s sleek silver body gleaming under the station’s lights. Min-jae’s eyes darted to the crowd, searching for Joon-ho or Soo-kyung, but the sea of faces blurred together.They boarded the train, slipping into a quiet car near the back. The seats were plush, a stark contrast to Min-jae’s usual world, but there was no time to dwell on it. The train’s departure announcement crackled through the speakers, and Min-jae’s stomach twisted as the doors hissed shut. They were safe—for now.Soo-jin sank into the seat beside him, her face pale but resolute. “We made it,” she whispered, her hand finding his. “Thank you.”Ji-hoon sat across the aisle, his expression unreadable. “Don’t thank me yet,” he said. “Soo-kyung’s not done. And if your contact in Busan’s compromised, we’re walking into a slaughter.”Min-jae’s jaw clenched. “You keep saying that, but you’re here. Why?”Ji-hoon’s eyes darkened. “Because I owe your mom,” he said. “She helped me once, when I was a kid. Got me out of a bad spot. I couldn’t save her, but I can save you.”The words hit Min-jae hard, stirring memories of his mother’s kindness, her quiet strength. He glanced at the letter in his bag, Hye-jin’s words to his mother echoing: The evidence is in Busan. Their mothers had been allies, and now he and Soo-jin were carrying their torch. But Ji-hoon’s presence, his cryptic warnings, felt like a double-edged sword.The train lurched forward, Seoul’s lights fading into the night. Soo-jin leaned close, her voice low. “Min-jae, about my mother… I didn’t know she was involved with yours. But if it’s true, it means we’re connected. Maybe that’s why I felt something that night in the rain.”Her words stirred a warmth in his chest, but before he could respond, Ji-hoon’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his face tightening. “It’s Han,” he said. “He’s in trouble. Joon-ho’s men caught him in Itaewon. They’re squeezing him for information.”Soo-jin’s breath hitched. “Han wouldn’t talk,” she said, but her voice wavered. “He said he owed my mother.”Min-jae’s mind raced. Han’s cryptic words—I owe her mother—echoed the letter’s implications. If Han broke, Joon-ho would know about Busan. “We need to warn your contact,” Min-jae said. “Now.”Soo-jin nodded, pulling out the burner phone, but before she could dial, Ji-hoon grabbed her wrist. “Wait,” he said, his voice sharp. “There’s something you need to know first. Your contact in Busan—he’s not just an ex-employee. He’s your mother’s brother. Your uncle.”Soo-jin’s eyes widened, her hand freezing. “My uncle? He’s dead. My father said—”“Your father lied,” Ji-hoon cut in. “He faked his death to disappear. He’s been hiding in Busan, waiting for a chance to take down Choi Enterprises. That’s why the safehouse exists.”Min-jae’s heart pounded, the pieces falling into place. Soo-jin’s uncle, his mother, the evidence—it was all a plan set in motion years ago. But before he could speak, the train’s lights flickered, and a cold voice crackled over the intercom, not the conductor’s.“Passengers Kang Min-jae and Choi Soo-jin,” it said, chillingly calm. “We know you’re on board. Stay where you are, and no one gets hurt.”