Fate in the Rain

Shadows in the Alley

The rain hadn’t stopped, but it had softened to a drizzle, cloaking Seoul in a misty haze. Kang Min-jae stood frozen in the alley, his breath shallow as the man in the tailored suit loomed before him. The black SUV idled behind, its engine a low growl that matched the pulse hammering in Min-jae’s ears. The stranger’s face was sharp, all angles and cold precision, his eyes hidden behind tinted glasses despite the late hour. He didn’t look like a thug, but that only made him more dangerous—men like this didn’t need fists to break you.“Kang Min-jae,” the man repeated, his voice smooth as polished stone. “Get in the car. We need to talk.”Min-jae’s hand tightened around the black card in his pocket, the edges biting into his palm. Soo-jin’s card. Her number. Her voice, soft but commanding, still echoed in his mind: Call me tomorrow. Nine a.m. sharp. Was this man connected to her? Had she set him up? The thought twisted in his gut, but he pushed it down. He didn’t know her, not really, but the way she’d looked at him in that café—like he was more than a nobody—felt too real to be a lie.“I don’t know you,” Min-jae said, stepping back, his sneakers scraping against wet asphalt. “What do you want?”The man’s lips twitched, not quite a smile. “You’re in over your head, kid. You don’t even know how much.” He gestured to the SUV’s open door. “Get in, or we can make this less pleasant.”Min-jae’s eyes darted to the alley’s mouth, where the neon glow of Garosu-gil flickered, promising safety in the crowd. He could run—lose himself in the maze of side streets—but his legs felt heavy, pinned by the weight of the man’s gaze. And something else: curiosity. If this was tied to Soo-jin, to the opportunity she’d dangled, he couldn’t walk away. Not when his life was crumbling, when every day felt like a countdown to failure.“Fine,” Min-jae muttered, his voice tight. “But I’m not signing up for anything blind.”The man didn’t respond, just stepped aside, motioning to the car. Min-jae climbed in, the leather seats cold against his soaked jacket. The interior smelled of wealth—polished wood, faint cologne, a world he didn’t belong in. The door shut with a heavy thud, and the SUV pulled into the night, the city blurring past tinted windows.Inside, another man waited, older, with silver hair and a face carved from years of authority. He wore a suit that screamed chaebol, his fingers steepled as he studied Min-jae like a specimen under glass. The younger man took the front passenger seat, leaving Min-jae alone in the back with the stranger.“Kang Min-jae,” the older man said, his voice low, measured. “Born in Incheon. Mother deceased. Father unknown. Scholarship student at SNU, barely passing. Rent overdue. Am I missing anything?”Min-jae’s jaw clenched. They’d dug into his life, peeled back every scar in minutes. “Who are you?” he demanded, his voice sharper than he meant. “And what does this have to do with her?”The man’s eyes narrowed. “Her?”Min-jae hesitated, the card burning a hole in his pocket. He didn’t say her name—something told him not to—but the older man’s expression shifted, a flicker of recognition. “You met someone tonight,” he said, not a question. “A woman. Describe her.”Min-jae’s mind raced. Was this a test? A trap? He kept his description vague, protective. “Auburn hair. Black umbrella. Expensive coat. She didn’t tell me her name.”The man leaned back, his silence heavy. “You’re a poor choice for her games,” he said finally. “But you’re useful. For now.”“Useful for what?” Min-jae snapped, frustration boiling over. “Stop talking in riddles. If you’re with her, just say it.”The man’s lips curved, a cold imitation of a smile. “I’m with the Choi family. That’s all you need to know. As for you, Kang Min-jae, you’ve stumbled into something bigger than your little life. My advice? Walk away. Forget the girl. Forget the card. But if you insist on playing, you’ll need to prove you’re worth the risk.”Min-jae’s heart thudded. The Choi family. He didn’t know much about conglomerates, but the name Choi was inescapable—hotels, tech, skyscrapers. Was Soo-jin that Choi? The heiress? The thought made his head spin. “Prove how?” he asked, hating how small his voice sounded.The man slid a folder across the seat. “Open it.”Inside was a contract, dense with legal jargon, but the header caught his eye: Choi Foundation Talent Initiative. A program for “exceptional individuals” to work directly with the conglomerate. The terms were vague—consulting, innovation, “special projects”—but the number at the bottom wasn’t: a monthly stipend that could pay his tuition, his rent, his debts, with plenty left over. It was a lifeline. A dream. A noose.“What’s the catch?” Min-jae asked, his throat dry.“There’s always a catch,” the man said. “Sign, and you’re in her world. Refuse, and you’re out. But choose fast. The Choi family doesn’t wait.”The SUV slowed, pulling up to a nondescript building in Gangnam’s quieter fringes. The door opened, and the younger man gestured for Min-jae to get out. “Think it over,” the older man said. “Call the number on the card tomorrow. Nine a.m. sharp. Don’t disappoint her.”Min-jae stumbled onto the sidewalk, the folder clutched to his chest, the SUV vanishing into the mist. His mind churned. Soo-jin had said the same thing—nine a.m. sharp. Was she part of this? Or was she a pawn, like him? He glanced at the folder, then at the card in his pocket. Two paths, both dangerous. One promised salvation. The other, survival.Back in his goshiwon, a cramped room with peeling wallpaper and a flickering bulb, Min-jae sat on his thin mattress, staring at the card. Soo-jin’s number gleamed in silver, elegant and taunting. He wanted to believe in her, in the spark he’d felt in that café, but the SUV, the men, the contract—they screamed trouble. He traced the numbers with his thumb, his heart torn between hope and fear.Sleep didn’t come. By morning, the rain had stopped, leaving Seoul gleaming under a rare blue sky. Min-jae stood at a payphone—his ancient phone couldn’t handle calls without cutting out—and dialed the number. Each ring felt like a countdown. When she answered, her voice was soft, cautious, but unmistakable.“Min-jae?” Soo-jin said, as if she’d been waiting. “You called.”“Yeah,” he said, his voice rough from sleeplessness. “What’s going on, Soo-jin? Who were those men last night?”A pause, long enough to make his stomach twist. “Meet me,” she said finally. “Han River Park, near Yeouido. Noon. I’ll explain everything.”“Everything?” he pressed. “Or just enough to keep me on your hook?”Another pause. When she spoke, her voice was quieter, almost vulnerable. “I don’t know if I can trust you yet, Min-jae. But I want to. Come, and I’ll tell you what I can.”The line went dead. Min-jae gripped the receiver, his mind a storm of questions. He glanced at the folder on his bed, the contract still unsigned. Noon was three hours away. He could walk away, burn the card, forget her face. But the memory of her eyes—stormy, searching, human—pulled him like a current.At Han River Park, the cherry blossoms were in full bloom, their petals drifting like pink snow. Min-jae arrived early, his heart pounding as he scanned the crowd. Soo-jin appeared at noon sharp, her auburn hair catching the sunlight, a simple white dress replacing her coat. She looked less like an heiress and more like a dream, but her expression was guarded, her eyes scanning the park as if expecting shadows.“You came,” she said, stopping a few feet away. “I wasn’t sure you would.”“You didn’t give me much choice,” Min-jae said, holding up the folder. “Your family’s playing games with me. Why?”Soo-jin’s gaze dropped to the folder, her lips tightening. “That wasn’t supposed to happen yet,” she murmured. She stepped closer, her voice low. “Min-jae, I need your help. But it’s dangerous. If you’re in, there’s no going back.”“Help with what?” he asked, his voice sharp. “You’re a Choi. What could you possibly need from me?”She looked at him, her eyes raw with something he couldn’t name—fear, defiance, hope. “I need you to help me escape,” she said. “Not just from my family, but from a marriage I didn’t choose. And I think… I think you’re the only one who can.”Before he could respond, a shadow moved behind her—a man in a dark coat, watching from the trees. Soo-jin didn’t see him, but Min-jae did, and the hairs on his neck stood up. Whoever he was, he wasn’t here for a stroll.