[Take a deep breath, pause for a moment, and clear your thoughts.]
Ja-gyeong laid out a yoga mat in front of a large glass window, removed his upper garment, and sat cross-legged. With each breath he inhaled and exhaled, a snake coiled on his right shoulder, its mouth open, writhed and moved. The midday temperature was approaching 38 degrees, but Ja-gyeong's apartment was filled with enough cold air that one would need to wear long sleeves.
Meditation music continued to flow from the speakers.
[Release the anger and hatred in your heart, all negative emotions, little by little to the outside.]
He heard sounds from the entrance, but Ja-gyeong did not move. Footsteps approached, then something dropped to the floor with a thud. Only then did he open his closed eyes and look toward the sound.
On the floor lay a newspaper published this morning in Thailand. The front page featured a large photo of the man Ja-gyeong had killed last night. From above, he heard the sound of slow clapping. His gaze, which had been fixed on the newspaper article, moved upward. Before him stood a tall, well-built man. He was a Chinese man named Wang-han, who was no different from a brother to Ja-gyeong.
"As expected, impressive."
Yang-yang, a Chinese man who had been making money through underage prostitution and organ trafficking in Thailand, was found dead naked in a hotel bed this morning. He had suffered a gunshot wound to his left chest—a 7.62mm bullet from the opposite building had pierced through the glass and penetrated his heart with unerring accuracy without a hair's breadth of error.
"Everyone's saying he deserved to die. He should have done a lot of bad things to get that reaction."
In truth, Ja-gyeong didn't care how bad of a person he was. He received a request, killed him, and once he received the money, that was the end of it.
"The money?"
At Ja-gyeong's question, Wang-han's smiling lips twitched.
"Where's the balance?"
Looking at Wang-han who had come empty-handed carrying only a bundle of newspapers, Ja-gyeong asked with a puzzled expression. According to plan, his hand should now be holding the $300,000 received as the balance. In cash, of course. Wang-han, who had been hesitating, pointed to the dining table behind him. On the empty table sat a hamburger bag.
"Let's eat that first. You haven't had breakfast yet, right?"
Wang-han walked to the table, took out a hamburger from the paper bag, and inserted a straw into the cola. The table was perfect for two people to sit at. Though he had unwrapped the hamburger and prepared it to eat, Ja-gyeong sat and only stared at it, showing no intention of eating.
Wang-han forced a smile.
"I'll have it soon."
Before he could finish speaking, Ja-gyeong stood up. His brow was deeply furrowed, and he looked quite displeased. Sure enough, he turned his body toward the bedroom instead of the table. Damn it. Wang-han squeezed his eyes shut and followed after him.
Having entered the room, Ja-gyeong was selecting one of the shirts hanging there. What he chose was a Hawaiian shirt printed with red flowers. He had been happy about it, saying he bought it cheap at a night market a while ago. His expression as he buttoned it up seemed somewhat excited. He always wore that expression before going to kill someone.
"Where are you going?"
"To collect the money."
"Calm down and listen to me. There are circumstances."
Instead of answering, Ja-gyeong opened the drawer beside the bed. A silver Beretta pistol gleamed.
"I'm listening, so speak."
But what Ja-gyeong took out wasn't the gun. Instead of the gun, he put on the wristwatch next to it. Calling it a watch, it was essentially no different from a time bomb. With just the press of a button, if not an entire building, it could blow up everything around the explosive.
Wang-han's expression hardened.
"I'll go tomorrow."
"No. I'm going to collect it directly today."
"Why make trouble? Fine, I'll go now. You stay here."
Even though his words hadn't finished, Ja-gyeong turned and went outside. Wang-han stood with a dazed expression, recalling the client's face he had seen that morning. He was a Chinese-Russian named Dmitri, the head of a notorious criminal organization.
He, who usually kept promises strictly, had for some reason postponed the payment date by three days. That was a more serious problem than expected. Breaking a promise meant something had gone wrong with the job. Moreover, Ja-gyeong wasn't the type to tolerate things going wrong. He was the kind who would calculate down to the minute and second and even charge interest.
Ja-gyeong, who had walked to the entrance, turned around.
"Brother, don't come."
"Why?"
"Don't come, just catch the cockroaches for me."
The sudden mention of cockroaches was absurd.
"What?"
"I think I saw a cockroach about this size this morning."
Ja-gyeong spread his thumb and index finger to roughly show the size, then shuddered and rubbed his hand on his pants. Hated it. Really hated it. Wang-han knew how much he despised cockroaches. Moreover, the cockroaches living in Southeast Asia were large enough that they didn't crawl but seemed to walk around. But even so...
"Is that important right now?"
"To me, it's as important as collecting money. I can never be friends with them even if I die. I'm saying this just in case—you must kill them. You can't just spray medicine like before. If they appear again, I really don't think I can sleep."
After making earnest requests, Ja-gyeong, who was leaving, turned back.
"Of course, that's assuming I return alive."
He spoke of the possibility of his death as if it were a joke. The door closed, and Wang-han, left alone, rubbed his face. A groan leaked from between his lips. He wasn't someone who would listen even if he tried to stop him. He could only hope that he wouldn't find Ja-gyeong in tomorrow morning's newspaper.
***
When the chef brought out a tender tenderloin steak, Dmitri picked up his fork and knife and began carving elegantly. As he moved the knife, the large jeweled ring on his hand glittered. Beside him stood two well-built young men holding machine guns, and in front, several men led dogs around, providing security.
Dmitri's gaze fell on the newspaper placed to his left. It was published this morning, and the news about Yang-yang, who had been like an enemy, being killed was featured largely. As a smile spread across his face, dark red blood flowed from the meat, staining the white plate.
When he speared a piece of meat with his fork and put it in his mouth, the juices spread. With the thorn in his side gone, it felt like a thousand-year-old indigestion was clearing. As he savored the exquisite taste and wiped the blood from his lips with a napkin, suddenly—bang! A loud noise came from the main gate.
His jaw, which had been chewing meat, stopped moving at the same time as a sleek black Jaguar charged into the yard with a roar. The scattered men gathered in unison, formed a formation, and aimed their guns, while the Jaguar screeched to a halt sideways right in front of Dmitri's nose.
Seeing the carefully tended lawn tragically ruined, his face contorted. As he spat out the meat he was chewing, the driver's door opened. Along with deafening music that seemed to tear through the eardrums, the intruder emerged from the driver's seat. The subordinates all aimed their gun barrels at the intruder wearing a colorful floral shirt and sunglasses.
But Lee Ja-gyeong approached with long strides, wearing an expression that showed he didn't care about any of that. Dmitri gestured to his subordinates to lower their guns. Lee Ja-gyeong pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down heavily as if it were his own place.
"Would you like to eat?"
Ja-gyeong removed his sunglasses and placed them on the table.
"I'll pass on the meal, just give me the money."
The brown eyes of Ja-gyeong, who sat leaning back in the chair, flashed sharply.
"Is it because your troubles are gone? Your face looks quite bright overnight."
"It was, but now it's not so good. I wanted to enjoy my meal quietly, but you ruined it."
"If you had paid the balance on time, this wouldn't have happened. Thanks to you, the interest is steadily piling up."
Dmitri sneered, then picked up his knife and fork to finish cutting the meat. Ja-gyeong immediately thrust his hand into his pants pocket. Without anyone giving an order, more than ten gun muzzles were aimed at him again. Looking around, Ja-gyeong chuckled and took out a cigarette and a silver Zippo lighter from his pocket.
"Scared, are we?"
After lighting the cigarette, he leaned back languidly in the chair.
"I'll give you 3 minutes. Or I'll take your life, old man, as the balance."
Dmitri's subordinates tensed at the cigarette end that burned red then turned to ash gray. They intended to pull the trigger the moment Lee Ja-gyeong made any wrong move. But they couldn't act rashly. In the past, no one who became enemies with Lee Ja-gyeong had survived intact. He was skilled not only with guns but also with explosives, so no one knew what he might do.
After taking the last drag, Ja-gyeong flicked the cigarette. The flicked cigarette landed precisely on the meat of the steak plate.
"It seemed undercooked. I'm cooking it for you."
The corners of Dmitri's lips rose.
"That's why I like you. You're not afraid of anything."
Instead of answering, Ja-gyeong looked at his wristwatch.
"15 seconds left."
"Your skills are unquestionable."
"10 seconds. Any last words you'd like to leave?"
"So, about that."
"5 seconds."
"Go to Korea and kill just one person. Since it's a VIP, I'll pay ten times the amount."