The train screeched to a halt. With a hiss, the door slid open, and the passengers filed out of the metal tubes. Seo-yeon melded into the crowd, her presence invisible—just another face. She peeled away after a few paces, slipped her map from a pocket, giving it a quick glance.
Then, her eyes lifted.
A smile tugged at her lips
Myeong-dong station.
She's in Kang's domain.
Seo-yeon exited the station and wandered about the bust street. Her task was simple: book a hotel and prepare for her hunt.
Kang Beom-seok.
A ruthless and degenerate man. He ruled what was arguable, the smallest territory—but he made it up for it but spilling blood
A lot of blood.
It's been coined sarcastically as "강의 피의 왕국"
Kang's Kingdom of Blood.
And how blood soaked it is.
Arriving at a hotel, she briefly converses with the proprietor and is soon settled into her own room. Its walls were magenta, the carpet cream. The bed covers were navy blue and the pillows cream.
She sets her suitcase in the corner of the room and wearily flops onto her bed. She resigns herself to the darkness, closing her eyes and letting herself drift to sleep.
"Big Daddy!" Seo-yeon laughed as she barged into his office. Three men turned to her. Big Daddy, her loving father, stared at her, shadow obscuring his face.
Sitting in chairs across from him were two men. One wore a grey hanbok, his teeth gritted and his gaze bearing utter distain. The other was younger, around thirteen. He was lounging in his chair. His school uniform was unkept. His blazer hung off his shoulders, his shirt messy and his pants showed his ankles by how he was sitting.
"Get that girl out of here!" The older man barked. Seo-yeon stepped back. Her large innocent eyes flicker to her father.
Big Daddy raised a hand and smiled..
"Come, Seo-yeon," he sang her name.
Seo-yeon squeaked and ran right into his waiting arms. He scooped her up and placed her in his lap.
The older man scoffed and leaned back in his chair.
"I refuse to have this deal with a child present!" He snapped.
"But you're fine with a teenager sitting in?" Big Daddy said, coolly, glaring over the rims of his glasses.
The older man gulped and looked away, muttering.
Big Daddy chuckled. "My daughter is six years old."
"Yes Big Daddy?" She said, beaming.
He looked at Seo-yeon. "Sweetheart?"
"That," he points across the desk. "That is Kang Hyun-seok."
Seo-yeon nodded, smiling at him. The older man flinched, looking away. "Tch!" He muttered under his breath.
"And that," Big Daddy points at the teenager, "is Beom-seok."
The boy smirked—and causally flipped her the bird. Her smile dropped into a fierce pout. Beom-seok chuckled.
"I'll cut that off," she snapped.
Beom-seok's smirk twitched. Big Daddy laughed, a deep rumble. "Yes, you will," he said, glaring at the boy. "Now run along."
He set her down, who took off like a bullet.
Big Daddy turned to the table. "Now—where were we?"
Seo-yeon gasped and sat up. Her skin was clammy, her chest heaving. She wiped her face with the back of her hand and reached for her phone lying beside her on the bed.
7:00 p.m.
Time to go to work.
The cold water in the shower cascaded down her body. Head bowed, she allowed the water to soak her black hair, sticking to her back like strains. She repeated her mantra on her head.
This is for him.
He'd be proud.
He'd do the same for her.
After the shower, she tied her hair into a tight ponytail. She slipped on a black, long-sleeved shirt and tugged on a bulletproof vest. The came the skinny black jeans, knees pads and shoulder pads on her shoulder as well. She pulled on black fingerless gloves, stretching them taunt until they snapped into place.
Sitting down on the bed, she shoved her feet onto black shearling boots, tightening the straps.
She buckled a Hwando at her waist and strapped twin Ssang geom across her back. A holster around her thigh held her handgun. On her head, she slid night-vision goggles into place, leaving them up for now.
She stood up and inhaled sharply. She stretches. Every joint, every muscles freed from tension. Then, she turned to her nightstand and picked her silver dish, Inside, the pills gleamed.
In the bathroom mirror, she stared at herself.
"You got three hours to get Kang's head," she whispered. She popped it into her mouth and swallowed.
Her pupils constricted, eyes wide. She bowed her head, gripping the sink. Her breath hitched.
That felt good....
Throwing her window open, a rush of wind slammed into her face, the curtains billowing like sails in the breeze. Her eyes locked on the highest point in town—a Hanok house, its dark roof glowing under the lamp light.
That's where Kang lived.
She climbed onto the window still
And jumped.
Her fingers caught the edge of the rooftop. With a grunt, she hauled herself up.
It's been a while.
She took a moment, breathed. Then, sprinted, darting across rooftops like a shadow in motion. She leapt again—landing, rolling and rising to her feet.
The Hanok house drew closer with every stride.
A man, dressed in a blue t-shirt, black shorts and sandals, was shoved out of the Hanok's door, and into the courtyard. He grunted as he hit the ground, coughing from the impact.
A second man staggered out after him, dressed in black suit, a golden pin of the Kang's insignia on his lapel. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a green Soju bottle dangling in his right hand.
The man in blue pushed himself up on his elbows, then shifted to his knees. Clasped his hands together , he looked up at the suited figure towering over him. "선생님, 제발..." he begged. Please sir…
Another man bolted from the doorway, and dropped to his knees beside him. He wore a grey shirt and brown shorts, blue plastic sandals on his feet. "부탁합니다. 살려주세요 이렇게 빌게요!" Please spare us. I'm begging you!
Kang Beom-seok took a long sip from his bottle. He tilted his head, his eyes flickering to the two men.
"제가 누군지 모르시겠어요?" he said, his tone incredulous. Do you not know who I am?
He took a step forward, lifting his voice.
"제가 강범석입니다! 여기가 내 왕국이다! 그리고 너...."
I am Kang Beom-seok! This is my kingdom! And you…
He jabbed a finger at the man in blue
"돈이 없다고요? 당신의 목숨이 당신을 괴롭힐 겁니다!"
No money? Then your life will have to do!
From the shadows, Kang's men emerged. One seized the man in the blue shirt, another unsheathed a dagger.
A swift slice.
Blood gushed down the man's throat, staining the blue fabric as he collapsed.
The other man screamed—wild, ugly sobs tearing out of him. He didn't see the gun aimed at the back of his head.
Kang turned away, stepping back into the house with sober calm.
The trigger pulled.
Bang!
Kang tossed his bottle onto the ground, glass shattering across the stone. He groaned, running a hand through his hair, mussing it in frustration.
"Everyone took my 아버지 seriously but not me! It's not fair!" Beom-seok whined, kicking at the air like a sulking child.
"Beom-seok!" A voice called.
He spun around and grabbed the speaker by the throat before he could take another step. "What?" Beom-seok snarled, the vein on his forehead pulsing. "Th-The dancers…they're here," the assistant gasped, struggling to breathe.
Beom-seok blinked, just like that, the storm cleared.
He released him, grinning wide. "Then say that!" He laughed, slapping the man's back. The assistant laughed too—nervously, breathless, eyes wide in fear.
The Talchum dancers gathered on the raised stage, their vibrant garments glowing beneath the courtyard lamps. Everything was pristine—the floor newly cleaned, the air tinged with incense.
Beom-seok lounged in his seat, flanked by his Men stationed in every corner of the courtyard.
In his twenty eight years of his life, there had been three assassination attempts. All of them failed.
If anything, they'd only proved one truth: No-one can kill him.
He was a member of the Sun clans—the greatest sub-clan in all of South Korea.
The music washed over him, smooth and hypnotic. The dancers' movements, steeped in tradition, lulled him into a rare moment of peace.
Then—
A sharp gasp rang out.
One of his men collapsed.
Beom-seok jersey upright, eyes darting to the stage.
The dancers scattered. All but one.
She stood perfectly still, staring at him.
Shit!
Beom-seok turned to the stage. The dancers fled but one stayed.
And she was staring right at him.
Shit!
He stumbled back, knocking over a chair in his panic before sprinting towards the door. Onstage, the actress tilted her head, the white Punae mask cold and unreadable.
With a flick, tosses aside the flowing skirt of the robe, revealing her hand gun strapped to her side. Before anyone could act, she drew and fired. Three men dropped, their bodies thudding against the courtyard floor.
Four more of Beom-seok's men clambered onto the stage, surrounding her. One unsheathed a dagger and charged.
She inhaled sharply once, steady. Then spun out of the way, her robe whipping in the air. The man stumbled, trying to recover—
But she was faster.
She aimed, pulled the trigger. He crumpled instantly, blood pooling beneath him. Holstering the gun, she turned just in time to face another attacker creeping up behind her.
He was armed with a woldo, a weapon similar to the Chinese guandao.
He charged, swinging the heavy blade with a vicious arc. The actress backflipped, the edge missing her by inches. She landed lightly—and fired. The man crumpled, his weapon chattering to the stage..
Holstering the gun once more, she sprinted over, snatching up the woldo just as the other two remaining men closed in. Now armed, she dove one blade straight into the first man's gut, lifting and hurling him off stage like a ragdoll.
The last man pulled his gun.
Too slow.
She hurled the woldo like a frisbee. The blade struck his neck with a sickening shing.
His body hit the ground. His head rolled away, bouncing once before coming to a stop.
The actress stood still, the blood-smeared Punae mask staring coldly at his remains.
Then, with a slow, chilling turn, her gaze shifted towards the door. Her mask, now smeared with blood, coldly stared at the body before eerily turning to the door.
Beom-seok frantically slid the door open, stumbling into the living room. Seventeen of his men piled in, forming a protective circle around their boss.
The doors were slammed shut.
Beom-seok trembled, his jerking in every direction like a scared child.
"오늘 내가 죽으면... 다음은 당신 가족들이야!"
If I die today….your families are next!
A shadow flitted across the side door. Beom-seok jolted, pointing with a shaking hand.
"저기! 저기! 불이야, 멍청아!"
There! There! Fire, dumbasses!"
Eight of his men immediately opened fire, filling the door with bullet holes. A scream echoed—and a body collapsed outside the door..
One of his men edged forward, cracking the door open and cautiously peeked outside.
"Well?" Beom-seok barked, his voice breaking.
The man turned, hesitation flickering in his gaze.
"청소부였어요, 선생님," he said, quietly.
It was the janitor, sir.
Beom-seok bit his finger until he tasted blood.
Shit!
Then, like something out of a horror movie, the Talchum actress dropped from the roof, landing on her feet with a heavy thud.
One of Beom-seok's men spotted her and fires.
The bullet struck her square in the chest, sending her flying into the folding screen with a loud, crack, toppling it over. Beom-seok spun on his heel, clutching his chest, breath hitching in terror.
Three of Beom-seok's men crept towards the limp body, guns trained and fingers twitching over the trigger
Beom-seok barked out, "그녀는 죽었나요?"
Is she dead?
"전혀 그렇지 않아," came the reply, the actress' voice cutting through the air.
Not by a long shot.
The actress pushed herself to feet, and pulls the woldo free. Without hesitation, she rammed the blade through one man's chest. She spun, stabbing the second man deep in the gut, tossing him aside like a ragdoll. The last man barely had time to raise his weapon before she kicked across the room. He grunted as he hit the bullet riddled door.
With brutal precision, she hurled the woldo like a javelin—impaled him clean through his chest, sending him right through the paper thin door.
Seven men charged, firing at her as the other seven herded their boss out of the living room. The actress ran straight into the hail of bullets, barely flinching as they struck her chest with sickening thuds.
Drawing her handgun, she fired back—striking four men clean through their chests, dropping them like dominions.
The remaining three scattered for cover, flipping over tables and tearing down decorative paintings, searching for hidden weapons.
Two of the men, discovering Hwandudaedo, unsheathed their swords and lunged at her. The Talchum actress reacted instantly, sheathing her gun and drawing her twin Ssang Geom to block them.
The clash of metal on metal echoed, sparks flying from the impact. She grunted under the pressure, her boots skidding slightly on the polished, tilted floor. The force had her collapsing on one knee.
The third man whipped out a dangpa, spinning it before charging with a roar. The actress spotted him at the last second. She shoved the other two aside and flipped backwards, just out of the dangpa's deadly reach.
Now surrounded, she turned, blades raised, heart pounding. The three men circle her like hungry sharks, their eyes gleaming with murderous intent.
The second man charged, thrusting his Hwandudaedo forward in a desperate stab. Thinking fast, she twisted her hips, narrowing slipping out of range. With a sharp twist of her Ssang geom, she trapped his blade and wrenched it from his grasp, sending it clattering to the floor.
There was visceral sound of metal piercing flesh as she impaled him in the abdomen. Without hesitation, she kicked her blade embedded in him, sending him sprawling—sacrificing one of her swords in the process.
The first man lunged at her, but she caught his strike with her remaining Ssang geom, countering it with a brutal kick that sends him crashing into a nearby wall.
The dangpa wielder snarled and charged. She danced just out of reach of the deadly prongs, her focus narrowing like a blade's edge as she squared off against him.
The dangpa wielder let out an evil chuckle, spinning his weapon. He then swipes at her skirt, tearing off the fabric, exposing her legs.
She stumbles back, teeth gritted in anger and frustration.
Beom-seok is getting away!
If he manages to leave the premises....
Her breath hitched, her vision blurring.
The pill was wearing off.
She needed to take him down, now...
She glanced down at her leg, seeing an small tear in her skinny jeans, blood seeping up.
She met the man's gaze, a sadistic smile plastered on his face.
No...
It wasn't the pill...
It was poison.
Her sword fell to the ground. She stumbled back, she lost her footing, hitting the ground hard. She starts to crawl away, her Ssang geom forgotten. The man laughed, slowly following her like a tiger, about to pounce.
Through her wavering vision, she spotted the overturn table and an idea sprang in her head.
She reaches it, breaking the leg off, clutching it tightly.
"잘 자요, 쿠미호!" He said, about to stab her back.
She turned around and his prongs stab the table leg. His eyes widen in shock.
"안녕히 주무세요, 바보야!" She gasped, pulling the leg.
Say goodnight fool!
Wrenching the weapon out of his hand, she tosses it aside. She breakdanced into a standing position, drawing her Hwando. The man didn't register how close she was to his neck until a chocked gasp escaped his lips.
Covering his neck, he crumpled to his knees before falling over on his face, his blood soaked into the titled floor.
The actress bolted for the exit, not even musing over her kill.
Boem-seok is mine!
In the Hanok's hallways, there was chaos. Servants scrambled to escape as Beom-seok's men shoved him forward. The echoes of their footsteps filled the air, followed by the sharp crack of a firearm.
One of his men collapsed, a spray of red marking the floor.
Beom-seok froze, his heart hammering in his chest. He turned, spotting her between the heads of his men, his breath hitched in his throat, a chocked sob escaping his lips.
There she was.
The crazy Talchum assassin!
Her blood-smeered Punae mask, stared at him like the cold eyes of death itself. Her handgun was aimed right at him, unwavering.
Bang!
The shot rang out, the bullet finding it's mark.
Bang! A second rang out, another body dropping to the floor, lifeless.
Beom-seok's blood ran cold. She was closing in.
The remaining four men shoved their boss forward, one of them slipping a handgun into his trembling hand.
"Run, and hide!" He urged, his voice tight with fear.
Beom-seok shot him a venomous glare, his hands shaking as he adjusted his lapel. "Don't tell me what to do!" He spat, his eyes wide with panic before he bolted, springing down the hall.
Breath ragged, he threw himself into a bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He pressed his back to the door, his chest rising and falling, as he fumbled with his gun, sweat sticking to his palms.
A chimdae, sat ominously in the middle of the room. A traditional set of drawers was neatly positioned in the corner.
Beom-seok's eyes flickered from shadow to shadow, his heart pounding in his ears. Every creak of the floorboards, every gust of wind outside the window, felt like a looming threat. He spun around, eyes darting , a feral desperation in his gaze as his gun trembled in his hand.
Where was she?
Where!
His frantic gaze flitted about the room, failing to notice the shadow materializing behind him.
By the time he sensed her, it was too late.
He spun around, gun raised—only for her to strike it from his sweaty hands with a sharp blow. The weapon flew into the air. Before it could hit the ground, she snatched it mdi-air, swiftly snapping the top slide. The magazine clattered to the ground. With her foot, she skidded it across the room.
Without missing a beat, she tossed the useless gun aside and turned her gaze to Beom-seok.
He gaped at her, his breath hitching, his chest rising and falling in ragged gasps.
She stepped forward.
He stumbled back in panic, tripping over himself, and landing hard on his rear, a broken, shivering mess.
"제발... 자비를 베풀어주세요," he whimpered.
Please...mercy.
She gripped the bottom of her mask, and peeled it off, revealing her face. She tosses the mask on the bed, turning wearily to him.
His eyes widened in disbelief..
"너!" He said, jabbing a finger at her.
You!
"그 손가락을 잘라버리겠어," she said, flatly.
I will cut that finger off.
He immediately lowered his hand, wiping his nose with his sleeve like a frightened child. "김서연. 왜 여기 있는지는 모르겠지만 제발... 보내주세요!"He babbled, his body trembling.
Kim Seo-yeon. I don't know why you're here but please...let me go!"
She knelt to his level, forcing him to lean back
Her eyes—cold and exhausted—stared at him, her breath ragged yet even.
"빅 대디가 위기에 처했습니다," she said quickly, studying him.
Big Daddy is in danger.
Beom-seok blinked, confused.
"큰 아빠?"
Big Daddy?
Then, he scoffed, a relived laugh bubbling up.
"그 거만한 놈이 도움이 필요해? 내가 도와줄게, 서연아. 우리 아버지들이... 어... 좋은 우정을 쌓았기 때문이야!" He said, flashing a shaky grin.
That pompous asshole needs help? I'll help you, Seo-yeon. Only because our fathers had uh...a good friendship!"
Seo-yeon didn't laugh.
She stood, drawing her Hwando with a soft shhhk.
Beom-seok's laugh died in his throat. His eyes locked onto the blade with growing terror.
"그의 목숨을 구하기 위해, 나는 당신의 목숨을 빼앗아야 합니다..." she said, deadpan, raising her blade.
To save his life, I must take yours...
"잠깐! 제발! 이럴 필요 없어요!" he shrieked, throwing up his hands.
Wait! Please! You don't have to do this!
She brought the blade down—
The curtains billowed like ghostly sails.
Beom-seok's body slumped backwards, his head rolling a few inches away.
Seo-yeon let out a shaky breath, blinking back the sting in her eyes.
She dropped her sword, and collapsed onto the bed, burying her face in her hands.
"용서해줘 범석아," she gasped, voice cracking.
Forgive me, Beom-seok.
After a long moment, she forced herself up. She could feel the fatigue coming on.
She ripped the bedsheet off the chimdae and draped it over Beom-seok's body. carefully, almost reverently, she picked up his head and shoved it into a pillow case.
One down, fourteen more to go.
The door slid open
The servants gasped at the ghastly sight—the white sheet darkening with blood. Their gazees shifted to the open window where the night wind stirred the curtains. One entered hesitantly, stooping to pick up the blood-smeared Punae mask lying on the floor.
The woman turned to the others, lifting the mask high.
"우리는 다른 태양족에게 말해야 합니다!" An old man said, his voice grave.
We must tell the other Sun clans!
Without another word, they file out of the room, leaving behind the blood, the discarded gun and the silent corpse of their fallen boss.
"The clans will never forgive us," the old muttered, clutching the bloody mask to his chest.