Double Junk - 155

“……”

Ajin was so shocked that he couldn’t even scream. Was he seeing things? Was this a dream? No, the bl00d staining Suncheol’s chest, the bl00d forming a shallow puddle on the stage, the bl00d trickling down the legs of the platform—it was all too vivid. It was unmistakably bl00d, thicker and murkier than water, that unmistakable deep red.

“Su, Suncheol hyung. Hyung.”

Ajin shook Suncheol again. But the half-open eyes of Suncheol showed no movement. They were hard and expressionless like a doll’s eyes. The skin that Ajin touched also felt strange. He hadn’t noticed it when he didn’t know there was a knife lodged in Suncheol’s chest, but suddenly, his body felt cold and stiff.

He’s dead. Really dead.

Ajin, realizing too late, fell off the platform in horror. One of his sneakers, worn and crumpled, flew far away. The barley powder he had been holding slipped from his arms and crashed down as well. A glass cup shattered weakly with a “clink.”

Ajin’s body trembled. His already pale face turned bluish, almost sickly white. His jaw quivered uncontrollably, and he struggled to stand up, despite his unsteady legs.

I need to call Seokju, call him…

As he urgently moved toward the front door, heavy footsteps thudded from behind him. Before he could even turn his head, his face was covered in coarse, brown fabric. It felt like someone had thrown a large cloth over him.

“Who are you?! Who are you?! Let go! Aaaah! Let me go!”

Ajin thrashed, struggling to break free. He sent his arms backward, flailing and hitting the person holding the cloth. In response, the assailant yanked the ends of the cloth upwards. The rough fabric tightened around Ajin’s face, covering his eyes, nose, and mouth. The attacker was so strong that Ajin’s feet lifted off the ground, his face swinging in the air like a person on a swing.

“Ugh…”

Ajin’s mouth gasped desperately under the pressure of the choking cloth. His movements resembled a person made out of sand, crumbling apart.

Ajin was terrified, deeply terrified. But he forced himself to stay calm. If he wasn’t careful, he would die, just like Suncheol, who had a knife in his chest.

He struck the assailant with his fists, but then he heard another set of footsteps. A heavy punch landed on the bridge of his nose. The impact felt like he had been hit by an iron ball. It was a powerful blow, on par with Seokju’s strength.

“Ugh…”

Ajin collapsed, losing consciousness. The cloth wrapped around his face soaked with his nosebleed.

—

Seokju sat in his office, glaring at the calendar on the wall as if it were his mortal enemy. His index finger tapped the desk with light irritation.

“Friday…”

It was still Friday. Still. How could time move so slowly? It had only been four days, yet it felt like ten years.

If I had known it would be like this, I should’ve just told him, “Let’s meet tomorrow” when we spoke on Monday.

No, that would have been too impulsive. Ajin might have felt pressured. He probably would have refused. The weekend was better after all. But then again, that’s too far away. I should’ve said, “Let’s meet on Friday.” Then we would have met today. Ah, whatever. I just want to see Ajin.

Seokju turned his chair halfway around and crossed his legs to the other side. He picked up a cigarette and stared into space.

What should we eat? I want to go out. It’s our first time meeting outside. I want to take him somewhere nice. But I’m worried he won’t like Western food. There are so many things I want to give him, but will he accept them? Or will I have to send them secretly through Suncheol again?

What should I say? I hope Ajin doesn’t feel uncomfortable. It needs to be easygoing, so he’ll want to meet again. This can’t be a one-time meeting.

Seokju puffed out a cloud of smoke as he pondered these peaceful worries. Then, without knocking, someone barged into the room. Seokju glanced over at the entrance with a sideways glare. Myungjin stood there, looking like he badly needed to use the restroom.

“Hyung.”

“What?”

“This came.”

“What is it?”

Myungjin strode forward and placed something on the desk. It was a bundle of newspapers, rolled up tightly as if something was inside. It looked like the kind of wrapping used for meat, but it was too small for that. The bundle was only about the size of Seokju’s fist.

“On my way back in from smoking, someone handed this to me. They said it’s for you, hyung. But… this is a bit…”

The newspaper bundle was loosely wrapped. It seemed Myungjin had already opened it.

With a disinterested look, Seokju began to unroll the newspaper. His mind was still filled with thoughts about his upcoming meeting with Ajin.

But that expectation crumbled the moment he saw what was inside.

The newspaper contained a finger. A severed finger, likely a middle or ring finger. The cut was rough, with jagged edges.

“……”

Seokju’s face instantly lost all expression. He stood frozen, staring at the finger as if he had died right there. He felt like he couldn’t breathe.

His vision turned black. His ears filled with a muffled hum, as if submerged underwater. The cigarette in his mouth fell limply to the floor.

Myungjin frowned slightly, trying to piece together the situation.

“I don’t know whose finger it is. All of our men are accounted for. I called home, and there’s no issue there either. Judging by its appearance, it looks like it could belong to a woman, but the finger’s so pale, it’s hard to say… it could be a man’s finger, but it’s too thin and white…”

Yes, pale and slender. A finger that should never be in such a place, a finger that didn’t belong in such a cruel scene. A beautiful finger. A finger that belonged to the person I love dearly… Ajin’s finger.

Seokju sprang to his feet and hurriedly grabbed the phone. His hands shook violently as he dialed. His face was paler than ever, as if he had seen a ghost.

In the over ten years that Myungjin had known him, he had rarely seen that expression on Seokju’s face. No, he had seen it only once before. It was the same look he had when Seokju saw his father’s corpse—his father, who had died of starvation, withered away like a rotten tree.

A face mixed with anger, despair, and fear.

“……Hyungnim?”

“…….”

“……Could it be, A-Ajin’s hand?”

Myungjin’s face also turned pale.

Seokju did not answer. He focused all his attention on the continuous ringing sound.

Please, pick up. Please. Ajin, please. Answer me. Please.

His cheeks, which had always been firm, trembled. His fixed gaze did not leave the severed finger. His lips, darkened as if stained with ink, opened weakly.

Please, please…….

Contrary to Seokju’s desperate wishes, Ajin did not pick up the phone. Seokju was about to dial again when he slammed the receiver down. He instinctively understood. Ajin could not answer the phone right now.

“Damn it…….”

Seokju pushed the phone aside. The heavy metal phone clattered to the floor. Myungjin, who was anxiously tapping his heel, tried to reassure him with awkward words.

“Su, Suncheol is there, right? Among the sons, he’s the one who shoots the best, so he’s right by Ajin’s side. If something happened, he would have fired the gun, and then the neighbors would have reported it to the police, so we would have heard about it.”

However, Seokju did not hear his words. His ears were muffled, blocking out the world. Seokju asked as he grabbed a gun from the desk drawer.

“Who gave this? Did they say anything else?”

“Uh, um, yes. While sucking on candy, they said that an uncle gave this to them and then hopped away. I thought the face looked oddly familiar, but I heard it was Deokjae’s son from the rice store at the intersection.”

“…….”

“But what would they know?”

Seokju’s eyes moved busily from side to side. There was no way he just sent Ajin’s finger without saying anything. He thought there must be a wish, a desire—then his gaze caught the newspaper wrapping the finger. More precisely, it was the article in that newspaper.

[February 11, Hyunseong Daily]

[Bl00d Storm at the Feast! – Gangster Power Struggle]

It was an article from the day after Seokju had gifted a bomb at Kiheon’s cousin’s wedding.

It was Kiheon.

Just as he feared. It seemed that Kiheon was the one responsible for this incident.

No wonder it felt strange. He was alive, that bastard.

Grabbing the gun, Seokju burst out of the office. Myungjin yelled after him.

“Hyungnim! Where are you going!”

But Seokju was already gone. After a moment’s hesitation, Myungjin followed him out.

Seokju’s car stopped just before hitting Ajin’s front gate. The wheels spun, sending up a cloud of smoke. Seokju opened the door roughly and jumped out. He pushed the gate open. The front gate was ajar. Even though he had anticipated this, his heart sank.

The yard was eerily in disarray. It was completely different from when he had come on Monday. The vegetable garden was trampled. Bl00d pooled on the dirt ground. Footprints were mixed haphazardly. A broken glass cup. One of Ajin’s old sneakers was turned over. Suncheol’s corpse lay sprawled on the platform.

Seokju trudged over to Suncheol.

“…….”

Without a word, he looked down at Suncheol, who had a knife stuck in his chest. It seemed like an ambush since he could not even close his eyes in death. The gun at his side was only half drawn.

Seokju slowly reached out to close Suncheol’s eyes. Then he closed his own eyes for a moment before slowly opening them again. After that, he entered the house.

Unlike the yard, the inside of the house was clean. It was just as Ajin had tidied it up. There were no footprints from intruders, and nothing was out of place or broken. Still, Seokju searched the house with a lingering hope. As expected, Ajin was not there.

When he came back outside, Myungjin and the gang members who had followed him were already surrounding Suncheol.

“Oh no, oh no, Suncheol……. Oh no…….”

Myungjin lamented as he hugged Suncheol’s head. A few gang members shed tears. Seokju looked at them with half-focused eyes. Attack. Assault. Bl00d. Death. Loss. Sorrow. Anger. All of these were familiar to Seokju.

But perhaps because it had been a while, he couldn’t regain his composure. His mind felt numb, as if half of it was outside of his body. He couldn’t muster strength in his limbs. Even though there were still people he needed to save, he felt too…… too…… scared.

Yes. Seokju was afraid right now. This was neither anger nor sorrow. It was fear. And that was what made it strange.

He was afraid of what might happen to Ajin. He was afraid of losing Ajin.