The Niece's Number
A gentle hand pressed firmly against the center of his back before slowly withdrawing.
He had been dozing with his eyes closed, lulled by the calming scent and music, and now he surfaced from that light sleep.
"Treatment complete."
Again, a woman's voice whispered in his ear. Not bad, for her skill. Everything had been appropriate, the timing just right.
So, exactly that much.
Neither more to expect nor less to be disappointed by. It was the kind of service that bore Ju Seung-eon's sensibilities.
So why did he feel so damn irritable?
Kwon Hee-jae slipped his arms into the robe the attendant had brought. Her fingers worked through his tangled hair, and he caught her hand naturally, offering a bright smile.
"Thank you for your hard work."
Hee-jae brushed back his lengthened hair with a dismissive gesture. This time, the attendant who had brought his cane led him to the powder room.
"Your body seems quite tense. If you remain in this state of stress, you may experience indigestion and sleep disorders. If you don't mind, may I request that Manager Kang be assigned to you on a permanent basis?"
The woman clasped her hands demurely, her face still smiling as if she hadn't the slightest fatigue.
"Why? If she works day and night, she'll get tired."
He stepped into the powder room and stopped before the bathroom, opening the front of his robe. The woman averted her gaze slightly and covered her mouth.
Koreans called that expression a modest smile.
"Your recovery takes priority over mine."
"Recovery, huh... Tell Manager Kang. Whether she'll approve, I don't know."
"Thank you, sir."
He hadn't even given permission, yet she lifted her thin red lips into a grateful smile.
He stepped into the shower booth. While he showered, the attendant tidied the robe he'd left behind and retrieved his clothes from the dresser.
Then, with sharp instincts, she slipped out of the powder room the moment the water stopped. It was like seeing Manager Kang in her younger days.
Of course, her age back then would have been about Yeon-woo's now.
Once showered, he left the room while the attendants were still tidying up.
Water dripped from his hair, which he hadn't fully dried yet. It was uncomfortable, but he didn't want to stand under the hot blast of a dryer.
Park Geun-sik, who had spotted him coming down after his treatment, offered a habitual smile and a quick bow.
Kwon Hee-jae looked around the dim corridor and asked,
"Where's everyone?"
As if they'd been waiting for that question, lights flickered on one by one down the hallway.
"Yeon-woo must have been tired today — she fell asleep while eating, so Manager Kang took her to her room. The residents of the detached houses are out for a while."
Not that.
"What about Lee Woo-hee?"
It was the second time today. Whether Park Geun-sik was startled that Kwon Hee-jae was looking for Lee Woo-hee again, his eyes flickered.
"She hasn't returned yet. Her part-time job must be running late."
"People surf at night?"
"I imagine she might have another part-time job as well."
"She's too reckless, going out so late. It's this dark outside."
He clicked his tongue, his eyes narrowing coldly.
In truth, the sun was only just beginning to set, but perhaps due to his sluggishness, it felt like the dead of night.
"Oh, don't worry about it. I'll give her a scolding. She's been acting a bit too conspicuous lately..."
"Does she have a number?"
"Excuse me?"
He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and stepped outside the building, asking once more.
"I asked if you have Lee Woo-hee's phone number."
Three voices came through at once. Sandra from HQ, Norman disguised as airport police, and Dan Sneyer.
"Waiting. And you, team leader?"
"Order room service. I'm getting hungry."
"Anything."
Da-in sat in the lounge, smiling brightly as she gazed out the window. The people who glanced at her from time to time were mostly tourists from Korea.
There are way more people here than I expected.
That made sense — there were plenty of parents holding their children's hands, and quite a few couples who looked newlyweds.
Probably because the infinity pool on the 36th floor was popular. Even so, Da-in whistled at Valentine's ability to clear out the entire 34th floor.
Then again, the weapons they'd received from Dan's yacht would cost more than renting out a whole floor.
Despite the sun setting, the warm weather kept people in thin, cool clothing moving ceaselessly. Their faces looked leisurely and happy.
"Pass."
"Female, pass."
She didn't want to engage Maya yet. If Maya found out she was a sniper, the other side would prepare countermeasures. An unfair fight was preferable.
Da-in passed two people and targeted the third arrival — a man named Mickey. Nationality unknown.
"Checking room number."
Sandra's mechanical voice never grew familiar, no matter how many times she heard it. Da-in shook off her seat and headed toward the elevator hall where people were gathering.
Behind her, diagonally across the space, a man stood hunched without any travel luggage.
Even in the middle of everything, Dan was calmly looking over the room service menu.
One of the six elevators lit up green. She naturally approached the man in cargo pants and a shirt from behind.
"Hmm... what do you like?"
"Don't you like it?"
"Then let's get something filling. I'm heading up now."
Da-in wrinkled her nose, and Mickey, who had glanced back surreptitiously, chuckled. The sound of an Eastern woman's nose seemed funny to him.
Once inside the arrived elevator, Da-in deliberately pulled out her card and scanned it first. When the 35th-floor button lit up, the man's hand, which had been reaching for his card, went back into his pocket.
Perhaps because of Mickey's cold atmosphere, only Da-in and a couple entered the elevator.
She put her disconnected phone in her jeans pocket, leaned against the wall, and stared quietly ahead.
On the 22nd floor, the doors opened once.
The couple got off, and on the 24th floor, a room keeper pushing a room cart got on.
The room keeper scanned his master key and pressed the 34th floor. Da-in's gaze drifted diagonally downward.
The PF-9 was in a position easy for her to reach. She nodded slightly, then lowered her body as if she'd noticed her shoelace was untied. The Valentine tattoo on the keeper's ankle reassured her.
But why?
Could something be wrong? Had they been discovered?
As she tied her shoelace and pulled out the gun to tuck it into her back pocket, the elevator stopped on the 34th floor.
A maid stepped out with a bright smile, and Da-in could feel Mickey staring at her through the metal doors.
Ding.
Mickey, acting like a courteous person, held the door open and gestured for her to exit first.
Da-in nodded and stepped out of the elevator. She walked briskly toward the corner suite she'd booked, keeping to the left of the elevator hall.
Footsteps absorbed by the carpet followed at a steady distance. When she slowed, the other slowed too.
Really? Am I being followed?
The gun tucked in her back pocket felt cold. Her nerves, pricked with unease, warned her of danger.
Finally, she stopped in front of the reserved room and reached for her key card. The moment she did, the footsteps that had been still suddenly drew near.
With a quick flick, a man drew a short knife and lunged. Da-in threw open the door with force.
Boom!
The door slammed against the opposite wall, shaking with a loud crash.
As she rolled her body, Mickey threw himself at her. Madness burned in his eyes, his face twisted into a sinister grin as he swung the knife.
"I knew it! What the hell are you!"
Along with his curse, the blade that flashed before her eyes embedded itself in the walk-in closet. Her body's reflexes activated to their maximum.
Da-in leaned back and dropped to the floor in one motion, striking the back of his knee.
With a thud, the man collapsed forward, reaching out with long arms to grab Da-in's shirt.
As the shirt tore, she opened the bottom drawer of the nightstand and swung a thick Bible hard against Mickey's cheek.
The man, spewing vicious curses at the dull pain, tried to throw a punch — but two bullets stopped just before penetrating the Bible mashed against his face.
And unfortunately, one of them shattered his cheekbone.
"Aaaagh!"
As the man screamed in terrible pain, a crumpled hand towel was brutally stuffed into his mouth.
"Shut up."
With the towel jammed in his mouth, Da-in swung her fist.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The brutal, rhythmic punches stopped only after someone entered the room and clamped a cloth soaked with drugs over Mickey's mouth.
The man, choking and groaning, had his neck snapped with a single twist. Only then did a single drop of sweat fall from Da-in's nose.
"Haa... haa. Haa..."
Damn it...
She had a habit of holding her breath when concentrating, and after a certain time, she'd lapse into a slightly hazy state.
And then it always happened like this...
Da-in ground her teeth together and slowly raised her head. Dan, with a frown, kicked the unconscious man aside and pulled Da-in up by the hand.
"Disgusting. Don't get on top of something like that."