𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙊𝙉𝙀 :
𝘓𝘰𝘯𝘨-𝘛𝘦𝘳𝘮 𝘞𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴, 𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵-𝘛𝘦𝘳𝘮 𝘚𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘴

𝗪𝗔𝗟𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗘𝗘𝗧𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗕𝗨𝗦𝗔𝗡 had a certain foreign energy that struggled to process everything. My surroundings were entirely different from the world I originally knew. The people, the culture, the language, even how walkable the area was, and how vastly different their cops were in terms of uniforms and car designs.

South Korea wasn't on my top list for traveling. Italy was my first choice. Knew it when my mom always put on Eat Pray Love while cooking, or had me sat on the floor in front of the TV while she braided my hair for school. Aside from watery eyes and a dry throat from smoke and an aching scalp and a numbed ass—I knew Italy was for me. It was where I felt I could truly be myself and rediscover a part hidden where I forced it to hide.

Though I'm not complaining, I'm happy regardless of where I've landed. I'm finally away from home. Yeah, it wasn't Italy and I'm not walking Rome with gelato in my hands, but Korea hasn't been that bad either. Maybe my purpose for Italy could be redirected here with or without Dasom.

As I strolled through the crowds bustling around, I ventured through narrow alleyways that twisted and turned like a labyrinth. Each corner were filled with tourists, couples, and party-goers seeking the nightlife.

I walked so far that tall ad-clumping buildings had decreased in size and tiny shops and food stalls lined the streets, their heated lights and flashy signs casting an intimate glow. The aroma of sizzling food wafting from open kitchens teased and tempted my tastebuds. Despite eating good at the restaurant, I was too pissed to enjoy my meal which was probably why it felt like nothing properly digested. I was hungry still.

Unable to resist, I ordered a plate of crispy fried mandu. My dumbass offered more bills than it was, still getting used to the currency and making use of the money Dasom left in an envelope shoved in a beautiful bouquet set on the bed of the hotel when I first arrived. I honestly wasn't expecting to stay at a hotel other than my girlfriend's place as her guest and the obvious, but was told her place wasn't in the best shape for company. That it was still under construction after something happened. There was always something happening with her and I'm sure her excuse for tonight might win an award.

The lady was nice enough to teach me the differences between my bills and threw in a few more dumplings for free to celebrate my first time in Korea. Even praised my Korean knowing damn well my pronunciation was all over the place and all I said was thank you.

I've walked so far without care—amazed by the environment and still walking off the alcohol in my system—that I somehow ended up near abandoned buildings. My feet started aching in my heels and leaned against the brick wall of a closed store to release some tension.

Fuck. I'm further than I thought I was. I don't recognize anything. Never had to since every driver Dasom sent knew where to go. Maybe I shouldn't have brushed off Bong so easily.

        A sadistic laughter followed by a painful whimper echoed my surroundings. I thought I was hearing stuff at first since a woman walked by laughing into her phone. She pulled on her fluffy white dog who couldn't help sniffing my feet and apologized. But as I was finishing my last few bites and searching for a way back to the hotel, the laughter returned. It wasn't the woman who was too far by now to hear. It was closer. Much closer.

I knew better to mind my business especially in a foreign country, but curiosity had gotten the best of me. My feet were moving in the direction of the laughter before I knew it, peeking through the partially shattered window of an abandoned warehouse. It was covered in dying vines with cigarette buds and empty soju bottles lying around. Inside, a woman hugged her belly with her head thrown back, laughing up a storm. Her laughter was full with an eerie taste as if she was laughing at someone rather than herself.

And she wasn't alone.

Before her, three naked men were forced on their knees. Their wrists were tied behind their backs and their mouths were restricted by thick tape, squeezing in their cheeks like a fish.

My lips parted with a soft gasp, clutching my empty bowl to my chest. I couldn't tell if this was a consensual kink or if their lives were in danger.

"You thought you could undermine me—my husband's campaign by hiring some cheap whore to drug and seduce my husband? Laid up with a mistress abandoning his family, morals, traditions, and his people? Really? Is that the best you can come up with?" The woman wiped her tears, her laughter still warm. Her long, wavy black hair nearly blended into her blouse tucked in high-waisted slacks. Aside from red lips, her heels were blood red. "Don't you know him? My husband knows better than to even look another woman's way if he wishes to ever see me again. Don't let his cold stare fool you, his heart is soft like cotton. Easily moldable. Easy to love. Quite adaptable to his surroundings, but he knows where home is. He might be a naive pussy, but he is downright loyal and prioritizes family even above his career. A trait the three of you should've borne before you thought about betraying us. Betraying me. You're lucky the bitch was caught before the media caught a whiff of this and she's lucky she values life more than your dirty money. She broke before I said a word."

I couldn't tell most of what was being said since my comprehension of Korean was very little and she spoke differently than what my recordings were saying, like there was a dialect I didn't know about. Pressure built around my brain struggling to make sense of everything but I felt her anger. Her betrayal.

The woman was unbothered by their desperate pleas rather finding the situation humorous in its own psychotic way. It was the highlight of her day.

One of the naked men on the far left wiggled like a worm to alert the woman he had something to say. At her signal, a broad-shouldered man dressed in a fitting suit magically appeared and ripped the tape from around his red-printed mouth. Saliva poured from his lips as he screamed.

"Well?" The woman crossed her arms, tilting her head. "You have something to say?"

"Lee Yoo-Joon offered us a better deal," his eyes narrowed, round glasses sliding off his sweaty nose. He refused to look at the other men who were against his confession. "He promised us an eighty-five percent return and a permanent position on the board. Opportunities he can make happen."

The woman marched over and tangled her painted nails through his greasy hair. A groan hissed between his lips when yanking him back with his protruding Adam's apple on full display. "I was offering you the better deal; I kept you alive. Opportunities I granted. But of course, you men, such disappointing creatures." She kissed her teeth, shaking her head. "My father always said a little taste of victory can never tame a man hungry with greed. But I do wonder," salty tears stained the blade skimming along his puffy cheeks. "If I can bleed it out of you. Should we test it?"

Something about her felt familiar and I couldn't put my finger on it.

He panicked as the blade pressed against his bobbing Adam's apple. "Please," he cried, his voice raspy and strained to refrain from using too much breath out of the fear the blade would cut him. "Please forgive me. I know my mistake and I take full responsibility for my actions. I am still loyal to your family, always have been since your father's reign. Just one chance and I promise you won't be disappointed."

Like a switch, her eyes softened and her brows drew together that showcased mocking empathy. "Oh, no, no, no. I believe you, I do. And I believe you are loyal to this family and I'm sure my father enjoyed your company very much. It's just..." Tilting her head, her bottom lip pouted. "I am not my father and I don't offer second chances, but I love it when a man pleads. It excites me."

I watched in horror as the dagger pushed deep into the tissues of his fat neck. His eyes bulged wide and attempted to pull away but the pain kept him grounded as well as her hand through his greasy thin hair. Blood poured down his naked frame, seeping between every crack and roll. It coated the woman's hand. Every inch of strength, his will to fight to live was forcefully taken from him the further the blade went. The woman watched like a child fascinated by a new toy, not missing one second of this gruesome death. Every struggling breath, gurgles of thick blood filling his lungs, eyelids exhausted from the effort.

Then his body fell limp, unmoving.

My hand clamped my mouth as a wave of nausea hit me. This wasn't a kink. This was real. My legs were too numbed to move so I crouched and all that I'd eaten earlier forced itself up. Suddenly sober. I was used to blood being veterinarian for four years. Even death, having to put down my fair share of animals for various reasons—but what I wasn't used to this.

Becoming a witness to murder in cold blood.

This was far different from slasher films or watching violence through the media. I knew one was fake and practiced for overall enjoyment, and it was easy to be desensitized through a video that was happening miles from where I stood. But nothing could prepare me for this.

I forced my eyes shut to forget what I saw. But even then, my mind perfectly painted the blade pushing along the man's skin as it sunk further. The choking breath he struggled to take. The way his blood spluttered like squeezing a ketchup bottle and oozed like a violent river thick enough to drown in. I threw up again.

What the fuck do I do?

This wasn't my country. Korea's laws and the extent of their jurisdictions were out of my knowledge. From bingeing true crime documents—something I'd throw on while cleaning the house or background noise—I learned manslaughter was treated lightly within a certain age range in terms of not serving hash sentences and could be wiped entirely from one's record like it never happened. And because the choice of identity protection no matter the crime was applied, the killer could easily get away with it. They could live perfect peaceful lives without suffering from public shame. But did that law extend toward adults? I didn't even know if 911 worked here!

Perhaps, I could record the altercation as evidence and send it anonymously to the police? That way my identity was protected if this woman was arrested. She'd be unable to trace me and that way it wouldn't haunt my consciousness if I did nothing at all.

I quickly navigated my clutch for my phone, still receiving nothing from my girlfriend. After making sure the flash was off, I pressed record and lifted the camera as far as my arms could go to gather everything without getting caught. I couldn't stomach the dead body face-to-face, so I remained in a squatted position only looking at what was happening through my phone. It was easier to accept it that way.

Through the camera—the other two men panicked and struggled to scatter from the dead body as blood soaked under their knees. The skinny man heaved with tears pouring down, either praying or calling to his mother. Chunks of puke drooled beneath the tape, easily slipping it off.  The one who was much older than everyone within the room—I just now noticed six other individuals guarding the perimeter—successfully stood to make a run for it. Though he was pushed to his knees before his first step.

The woman wiped her stained hands with a provided napkin. A wicked smile stretched across her face as she sighed with relief. "That was fun. Who's next?" She played a mini-game, pointing the knife back and forth to decide their faith based on where it ended once the game was over. The skinny man was next. "Bring him to me. I'm not ruining my heels in traitor's blood. They're limited edition."

Dread molded the man's features as two men headed in his direction. "No. No, no, no!" Hands locked around his arms and dragged him across the floor, in the dead man's blood, despite his fight. When brought closer to his knees, he slammed his head against the ground in a bow as he begged for mercy. "I just got married and we're expecting a son. Please. My son will grow up without his father and my wife will have no support. She will lose everything." When his sob story didn't work, he tried for another angle. "Think of your daughter. She's, like what, seven now? Elementary, right?"

A threatening growl filled the woman's throat. A threat he did not heed.

"Think of her feelings—her future if this sheds light and she grows up knowing her mother's a murderer and her family's legacy is stained in innocent blood." He continued. "The shame she'll be forced to bear at such a young age. She won't look at you the same as she did yesterday. Good school will turn her away too. Power and money can only get her so far with a tainted image, but the trail always linger. Don't do that to her. In her name and dignity and for my wife and unborn child, please don't kill me. Let me live. Show me mercy and my life is yours to wield."

The woman stood there for a long minute with her arms crossed. My screen suddenly darkened so I couldn't see her expression but I knew she wasn't moved by his bullshit. She actually laughed in his face. The man lifted his head in a hesitant manner, probably just as confused as I was. "Dasom, when's the last time that's worked on me?" She asked a figure behind her.

My head perked and I pushed from my squatted position where I was now standing. Now face-to-face with the crime, I swallowed the churn pushing up again, my calves burning and weak.

Dasom?

My Dasom?

My Korean might be shitty and I'm sure there were many who went by my girlfriend's name, but I knew the correct pronunciation—just as I knew her face when she appeared within the darkness.

Identical tattoos from when we video-chatted were exposed along her skin; like the lotus norigae tattooed between her breasts and intricate flowers along the right side of her neck, curled behind her ear that blended into her hair perfectly layered and short at her neck with tousled bangs. She wore a 3-piece suit with nothing under her vest that cut deep, perfectly tailored and black.

My lips parted as a chill rushed down my spine and pressure warmed between my thighs. She was even hotter in person. Video chatting prepared me for this moment but it felt different now that I was seeing her for the first time in person. She was real. A real fine ass woman who was my real girlfriend. I hated myself, my body for reacting against my will at the worst time possible.

But what the fuck was she doing here at an active crime scene, and why the fuck wasn't she with me at our date instead?

I lowered my phone instinctively because I feared getting someone I love in trouble. She was also my ride home and temporary provider while in Korea so if anything happened to her, my ass would be stuck here on the streets. Until I realized there had to be a reason why she was here in the first place and got herself mixed up in this bullshit, so I lifted my phone to record away. Something kept telling me to cut her out of the frame and leave only her voice, but I had to get everything. Including her, someone I loved.

"Never." She stood behind the woman and handed her a small stack of papers stapled together. The woman eagerly took the stack and skimmed through the contents. They looked related beside each other, like sisters. "I got what you requested. Years worth of embezzlement, accumulating debt, anonymous blackmailing, and drugs stashed in not-so obvious but obvious places. Everything is seamless and legit."

"E-embezzlement? I never stole in my life. Not even a dime from the homeless, and paid all my debts years ago. I'm clean, I swear!" The skinny man pleaded.

"Well, duh. But I need a plausible explanation behind your deaths since it'd be strange if three influential figures working alongside my husband's campaign are found dead. It will set back his image, but if we play our cards right, your deaths will boost our numbers. His empathetic nature will easily win over the people." She locked an arm around Dasom and pressed her head along her shoulder as she hugged her tight. "Isn't my little sister intelligent? It was her idea. Had it gone my way there would be no story."

Dasom huffed as she glanced away. If there was a spec of pride because of her sister's compliment, she didn't show it. She appeared irritated like it was always on her to solve everyone's problem, or she was so used to it that it was nothing to her. Just as easy as washing hands.

I ducked when her gaze shot in my direction. My heart pounded against my chest as fear increased. I was sure her crazy ass sister was about to jump through the window and get my ass. Luckily, I was quicker already on edge about everything. I waited a bit before pushing up my phone that was still recording. When I saw she wasn't looking this way, did I stand.

An agitated prolonged groan echoed the building, following it to the old man who somehow removed his tape. He'd been quiet the entire time except for now. "There is no point fighting to live. And quite frankly, I've had enough of this bullshit. If you're going to kill us, do it now. Stop wasting our time."

The skinny man shot him a glare. "Speak for yourself, not for—" He flinched when the woman stretched out her arms. There was almost a moment of fear that she was about to stab him given how close they were but their attention was on the old man who pushed to his feet with all his strength. His skin hung round and flabby with dimples and wrinkles.

"At least your father knew how to keep it quick without prolonging unnecessary situations." He continued to ignore the other man's warning to shut up as he baited them more. "Now he's got these emotional feminist cunts staining his name, his legacy, instead of real sons as it should've been."

Dasom clasped her hands behind her back, tilting her head with humor gleaming bright. A few gelled strands scattered along her eyes and she left it there. She sized the old man down. From her stance and nonchalant demeanor, I could tell whatever this man was staying wasn't anything profound or new. She also looked on the verge of attempting an impulsive action but held herself back as though she was waiting for something. A trigger perhaps, or the perfect moment.

He continued. "What happened to women minding their business in the kitchen? This progressive bullshit would never slide back in my time because everyone knew their respective roles and stuck to them. Now everyone's confused." His body lifted with his chuckle like it was all in one, getting all in their faces with no fear to spare. "You wish to know why I betrayed you? It wasn't for the shitty benefits Lee Yoo-Joon was offering or the position. It's because I'd rather side with the enemy than degrade myself by working for a bunch of lousy b—"

I flinched when Dasom slapped the man so hard that he stumbled, forcing him to eat his words. Her eyes darkened but there was still this underlay of pure satisfaction. This was that moment she waited for.

Blood dripped from his nose, his face cherry red from both the impact and anger. "You must have lost your damn mind raising your hand at your elders! Don't you know who I am? What I can—"

She slapped him again.

And again.

And again for the fun of it.

The man couldn't defend himself against the blunt force of Dasom's hand because his arms were still tied behind him. She lifted her knees as far as it could go and kicked him to the ground. Landing was worse than the action itself. She continued to kick him and beat his body with so much raw power, that I couldn't stomach it and looked away. I allowed the camera to capture the evidence for me.

Only then did I look back once Dasom spoke. "I've been waiting to beat his ass since he first looked my way when I was appointed to father's position. I put up with him for as long as I could for your sake." She lifted herself from the dead body, her knuckles drenched in blood.

"And that won't happen again. I'll listen next time." The woman said with mild regret though it was hard to decipher. There was always a tang of humor in her tone, almost sarcastic. But there was a form of respect too toward Dasom.

"I know."

Dasom's sister handed the knife to someone nearby to handle the skinny man who continued to cry and beg for mercy. His death was quick.

Another wave of nausea stimulated my insides but I swallowed it down. My breath grew heavy and my mind struggled to process what I had just witnessed. My girlfriend wasn't who she claimed to be. She wasn't the charming hot woman who obsessed over DC characters, shitty-written but entertaining books, and growing her own garden for sport. The same woman who would send art pieces she discovered at galleries, foods she was eating, and the sky throughout the day because the clouds were shaped funny. The same woman who stayed up throughout the night just to be awake with me on my side of the world.

No. I didn't know who that woman was because she wasn't the woman I knew; she was a cold-hearted killer. A fucking actress at best. She lied about everything and I wouldn't be surprised if I somehow fucked her over and she invited me to her country where she knew her laws best to rid me like she did these men.

I was right to question my suspicions and was foolish to ignore them because I was excited to finally be with my girlfriend. Someone I thought I trusted.

But at least I had the evidence. All that mattered really. I just needed to get this footage to the police station without it tracking back to me and get the fuck out of Korea.

But suddenly, a flock of eyes turned in my direction. It wasn't because of the lingering stench of puke between my toes or because I was breathing too loudly, trying not to panic, or someone knew I was recording—it was because I forgot to silence my phone.

And someone was calling me.

A U T H O R ' S  N O T E

— If my phone went off while witnessing an active crime scene, I'd kms. Do them the favor and save time. But how are we feeling about Dasom's introduction including her sister? Who we'll learn more about soon. And how will Imani get out of this one?

— Remember this is temporary mild omniscient point of view because I didn't know how to go about the warehouse scene. One day I'll figure it out and correct it, just not now. I hope it wasn't too bothering and blended in somewhat. I did give a heads up last chapter.