Fate in the Rain

Echoes of the Flame

The air in the Busan radio station was thick with the acrid tang of gunpowder and fear, the neon glow of the city filtering through the windows as federal agents stormed in, their shouts mingling with the fading hum of the helicopter. Kang Min-jae stood frozen, his hand gripping Choi Soo-jin’s, her scream—“Mom!”—still ringing in his ears. Hye-jin, Soo-jin’s mother, knelt beside the fallen Choi Dong-hyun, her bloodied hands trembling, the guard’s g*n at her feet. His body lay still, blood pooling beneath his tailored suit, his eyes wide with shock. But it was the mysterious woman in the shadows, her face obscured, her hand clutching a blinking red device, who sent a chill down Min-jae’s spine. Her words—“You thought it was over?”—and the click of the device echoed like a death knell.Soo-jin’s face was pale, her backpack clutched tightly, the USB drive and evidence now broadcast to the world, exposing her father’s empire. Kim Seo-yeon, the journalist, stood by the console, her laptop glowing with confirmation of the upload—prosecutors and international press had the files. Lee Min-soo, Soo-jin’s uncle, slumped against the wall, his shoulder wound bleeding, his face etched with guilt and pain. Park Ji-hoon, bloodied and bound, struggled to his feet, his eyes pleading for forgiveness after his betrayal. But the woman with the device was the new threat, her presence a reminder that Choi Enterprises’ reach might outlive its founder.“Who are you?” Min-jae demanded, stepping in front of Soo-jin, his voice rough but steady, the stolen g*n still in his hand. The federal agents froze, their weapons trained on the room, unsure of the new player.The woman stepped into the light, her hood falling back to reveal sharp features and cold eyes—Lee Soo-kyung, the enforcer from Min-jae’s past, her shoulder bandaged from the warehouse fight. But her presence felt different, her smile more calculated, as if she’d been waiting for this moment. “You didn’t think Choi was the only one pulling strings, did you?” she said, her voice dripping with menace. “He was a puppet, just like you.”Soo-jin’s breath hitched, her eyes flicking to her father’s body, then to Hye-jin, who was being restrained by an agent, her face crumpling with grief. “What are you talking about?” Soo-jin asked, her voice trembling but fierce. “My father’s dead. The evidence is out. It’s over.”Soo-kyung’s laugh was sharp, cutting through the chaos. “Your father was a front,” she said, her eyes glinting. “The real power—my employer—has been watching you both. The evidence you broadcast? It hurts, but it won’t stop us. And this—” She raised the device, its red light pulsing. “This ensures you don’t walk away.”Min-jae’s heart pounded, his mind racing. The device was like the one at the warehouse, which Hye-jin had used to start the fire. Was Soo-kyung planning to destroy the radio station, the evidence, everything? He glanced at Seo-yeon, whose fingers hovered over her laptop, ready to trigger a backup upload. “Keep her talking,” he whispered to Soo-jin, his grip tightening on the gun.Soo-jin nodded, stepping forward, her voice steady despite the tears in her eyes. “Who’s your employer?” she demanded. “If my father was a puppet, who’s been running this?”Soo-kyung’s smile widened, but before she could answer, Ji-hoon lunged, his bound hands swinging at her. The device flew from her grip, skidding across the floor, and chaos erupted. Agents shouted, guns swiveling, as Soo-kyung dove for the device, her movements swift despite her wound. Min-jae fired, the bullet grazing her leg, and she stumbled, cursing.“Get it!” Soo-jin shouted, diving for the device as Seo-yeon slammed her laptop shut, sprinting for a back exit. Hye-jin broke free from the agent, grabbing Min-soo and pulling him toward the door, her face grim with determination.Min-jae tackled Soo-kyung, pinning her as Soo-jin snatched the device, its red light still blinking. “What does it do?” she demanded, holding it up.Soo-kyung’s eyes gleamed, even as she struggled under Min-jae’s weight. “You’ll find out,” she said. “Unless you give it back.”An agent grabbed Soo-kyung, cuffing her, but her smile didn’t fade, sending a chill through Min-jae. He helped Soo-jin up, the device in her hand feeling like a bomb. “We need to get out,” he said, his eyes flicking to the agents swarming the room. “They’ll take the evidence.”Seo-yeon led them through the back exit, Hye-jin and Min-soo limping behind, Ji-hoon following, his hands still bound but his face set with resolve. The alley outside was a maze of Busan’s morning bustle—vendors shouting, the smell of fresh tteokbokki and sea salt thick in the air. Gwangan Bridge’s lights shimmered in the distance, a reminder of their fleeting hope.“The device,” Min-jae said, his voice urgent. “We need to disable it.”Soo-jin examined it, her hands shaking. “It’s a remote trigger,” she said, her voice low. “Like the one at the warehouse. But for what?”Hye-jin’s face paled, her bloodied arm trembling. “The safehouse,” she said. “There’s another cache of evidence—backups, in case the warehouse failed. It’s wired to destroy it.”Min-soo coughed, his voice weak. “She’s right,” he said. “I set it up… in case we were caught. It’s under a fish market, near the pier.”Min-jae’s heart sank. Soo-kyung’s employer—whoever was above Choi Dong-hyun—knew too much, had planned too far. “We need to get there,” he said. “Before it’s gone.”Seo-yeon nodded, pulling keys from her pocket. “My car’s nearby,” she said. “But the agents—they’ll be after us too. Choi’s influence runs deep, even now.”They piled into her sedan, the device still blinking in Soo-jin’s hand. She fumbled with it, her fingers searching for a switch, but it was sealed, its design impenetrable. “I can’t turn it off,” she said, her voice rising. “If they trigger it remotely…”Min-jae’s mind flashed to the lock on Namsan’s fence, their promise to return, now a fragile thread. He glanced at Ji-hoon, his betrayal a wound but his actions in the station a flicker of redemption. “You knew about Soo-kyung’s employer,” Min-jae said, his voice hard. “Who is it?”Ji-hoon’s eyes dropped, shame heavy in his voice. “I don’t know their name,” he said. “Soo-kyung mentioned a shadow—someone in Seoul, pulling strings. Choi was their face, but they’re the real power.”The sedan sped toward the fish market, Busan’s Jagalchi Market waking with vendors and the stench of saltwater. The safehouse was beneath a stall, hidden in a basement, Min-soo explained, his voice fading with pain. “The backups… recordings, ledgers… they name the shadow,” he said. “That’s why they want it gone.”They reached the market, the air thick with fish and brine, vendors shouting over the dawn crowd. Seo-yeon parked, leading them to a nondescript stall, its owner nodding subtly—a contact, Min-jae realized. A trapdoor led to a damp basement, where a second safe sat, its lock gleaming.Min-soo slumped against the wall, Hye-jin supporting him. “Code’s… 7-4-9-2,” he rasped. “Hurry.”Soo-jin punched in the code, the safe clicking open to reveal another hard drive, papers, and a small recorder. She handed them to Seo-yeon, who plugged the drive into her laptop, her face grim. “This is it,” she said. “Names, dates—someone above Choi, tied to international networks.”But as the files loaded, the device in Soo-jin’s hand beeped, its light flashing faster. “It’s active,” she said, panic rising. “They’re triggering it!”Min-jae grabbed the device, his heart pounding. “We need to get out,” he said, pulling Soo-jin toward the trapdoor. But a low rumble shook the basement, the air growing hot, and Hye-jin’s scream echoed as flames licked the walls.They scrambled up, the market erupting in chaos, vendors shouting, smoke billowing. Seo-yeon clutched the laptop, the new evidence downloading, but the flames spread, blocking the exit. Min-jae’s eyes met Soo-jin’s, their hands intertwined, their promise to survive burning brighter than the fire.And then, from the smoke, a figure emerged—not Soo-kyung, not Joon-ho, but a man in a sleek suit, his face calm, his eyes cold. “You’ve caused enough trouble,” he said, his voice smooth, unfamiliar. “The shadow sends their regards.”