Not Bad 22
With Sandra's signal dropping, the two slipped out of the room. Hee-jae strode ahead, his outer jacket fluttering off her shoulder.
Only then did Da-in notice the torn shirt and gently brush the pain from her injured hand.
"Some of them probably caught on. Stick close."
He wrapped his arm around her waist, flashed a grin, and pressed his nose to her nape. As if they were brushing lips along her ear and cheek, he shared a knowing glance with the passing room attendant. Da-in slipped a used handgun into the woman's hand.
It was the keeper from the elevator.
"Dead?"
"No. The demon brought them; I got everything I could. Lucky, really. Better than figuring out the room number."
"Room service?"
"Probably gone cold by now."
"Pity."
She barely had time to swing a fist before her shoulder ached. She felt her stamina drop too low for how hard she'd pushed.
Leaning half against him in the elevator, they descended to the first floor. No one would guess they'd just survived a bloody fight. She stepped out of the hotel with a gentle smile, all kindness.
Only now did Da-in loosen her hold on his waist. A sudden burst of blood welled in the hand he had gripped tight to hide the crushed knuckles.
The delayed pain hit.
"Smells like blood. Wash up. Change your clothes too."
"I left my stuff there."
Stuff. Phone and card wallet, really.
A gust of wind rose. For the first time, Dan pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Da-in stared in surprise.
"I thought you didn't smoke."
"Sensitive to the smell. Don't like it?"
"Doesn't matter."
They crossed the street, walking toward the coastal road. The sun had long since set. Da-in shook off the fog in her head as they reached the dock.
Too many close gunshots. Her mind felt stuffed with water.
Even with the suppressor, the shock hadn't been fully dulled.
Jumping onto the familiar figure of Alexa, Dan flicked his cigarette away and approached the door with an odd expression.
"Shower. I'll get you a shirt."
He stepped into the small room inside the yacht. Da-in opened the shower door. The moment she stripped the outer layer, the right arm and underarm pulsed with blood scent.
She yanked off the dirty clothes and scrubbed herself raw with Dan's shower products.
A sharp, masculine woody scent cut through the shower. Perfect for erasing gunpowder and blood.
When she finally stepped out, clean, a soft towel and a shirt waited by the door.
She had no choice but to wear her original pants, but the new shirt was more than enough. Standing before the mirror in Dan's oversized shirt, she saw him lounging sideways on the sofa, scrolling the tablet.
"All cleaned up. At least we won't move today. The bastard still doesn't know he got hit."
Da-in rubbed her long hair with the towel and stepped into the living room.
"You'll find out eventually. So, what's the chance they change plans?"
"None. And we know they're after Keith Kwon. If they wanted you, they wouldn't have done it like this."
"I'll be busy starting tomorrow."
"So rest. Instead of room service, want butter shrimp?"
Dan grabbed the keys, pulled his cap low, and headed out. He had left the bike in front of the restaurant.
"Yes."
"Dry your hair better."
"By the time we get home it'll be dry."
Dan pulled out another of his caps and plopped it on her head. Not yet time to relax, he said, and strode up the stairs.
A giant shirt under a cap. Anyone would see he was wearing someone else's clothes.
Da-in debated turning on the phone she'd left behind, then decided to savor the quiet.
The plan had gone sideways, but they had finished successfully.
Still, why did the rat biting the cat's paw feel so unsatisfying?
An uneasy itch clung to her skin like the salty sea breeze.
* * *
"Come for breakfast tomorrow too. You worked hard, Nine."
Clara smiled brightly and patted Da-in's back. She already knew everything; no extra questions.
Smiling that way, mocking the enemy... Da-in felt a little unease, but it was good to think her allies were fine.
"See you tomorrow, Clara."
"Only you call me Clara."
"Want me to call you Demon?"
"No, this is fine."
Clara wiped her hands on her apron and disappeared inside, still grinning.
Da-in gave a quick nod to Dan still sitting at the restaurant, then swung onto the bike.
'I'm getting tired.'
Time to switch to a scooter for the ride.
She resolved to ask Clara for help tomorrow and pedaled up the slope.
The cap filled with sweat, like her shower had never happened. Red-faced from speeding, she dismounted when the gates of the estate came into view.
She pulled the bike along the wall lit only by occasional lamps. Then the forgotten phone in her pocket made her reach in.
She hadn't checked on Yeon-woo all day; she hoped everything was fine.
Powering it on, she stared at the screen and walked slowly.
Signal came in and a flood of missed messages poured in. Mostly spam, but one number had missed calls exactly once every hour.
Three calls, precisely.
She tilted her head. Another call came from the same number.
Da-in pressed the gate intercom. The rail sounded louder than usual tonight.
"Thank you."
She bowed the usual way and stepped forward. A shadow suddenly blocked the path.
Dan snatched the phone from her ear with a cold face.
"Huh? This is yours?"
"Mine?"
"Give me the phone."
His outstretched hands toppled the bike. Both looked at the fallen bike at the same time.
Unexplained silence stretched. Da-in sighed, righted the bike, and the phone slipped into her pocket.
"Why are you wet?"
Da-in glared at the stranger who had spoken and kept walking.
"Showered."
"What did you do?"
"Sweat too much."
"You use strong stuff?"
The sound of a lighter and sharp smoke spread behind her back. Dan's body cleanser mixed with cigarette smoke turned acrid.
She glanced sideways and asked with confusion, "Even if it's strong, it was good. Famous cosmetic brand."
"So, how much sweat were you shedding that you borrowed clothes from someone?"
"Suddenly formal speech? No, the shirt got torn, so I borrowed it. Why?"
"...huh?"
Short silence and a fake laugh followed in a strange rhythm. Da-in couldn't meet his eyes for long.
If she stared into those eyes too long, she would feel swallowed by black space, so she looked away first.
Strange.
"I'll be careful. Storing the number is fine?"
She saved his number and leaned the bike against the wall near the entrance. She brushed dust from her hands, pulled off the cap, and a cool breeze blew through the sweat-damp scalp.
A fresh, clean breeze unlike the salty sea air.
"Cut back the overtime. Your uncle didn't mention it, but you can't just come and go like that."
Dan crushed the cigarette and strode past her into the house. She stood there, secretly hiding her crushed hand behind her back.
"So, if I'm late, I'll come in the morning instead."
With his hand in his pocket, the man ahead stopped. He exhaled a long sigh, tilted his head, and closed his eyes.
His expression screamed suppressed anger. Da-in stood at the gate unable to move. Maybe he was faking age, but she felt like a child being scolded.
It wasn't a pleasant feeling.
I came so late because of who again...
It was paid overtime, yet the remaining aches brewed faint resentment.
"Follow me."
His voice was sharp. He nodded and walked down the hallway. The door he opened led to her room.
"Hey!"
Startled, Da-in hurried after him. He set his watch on the bedside table and rolled up his shirt sleeves before turning.
Light from the garden poured in like a backlight, leaving a cold chill on Dan's face.
"Turn the lights on. Today we need to make quota, don't we?"
More than your wages, actually. The rest of the sentence didn't reach her ears.
She lost her words. While she hesitated, the watcher approached and reached for the switch.
Startled, she covered the switch with both hands.
"Turn it off and do it?"
She was doomed.
Turn it off and do it. She should have said to come back earlier!
The unplanned words made her scalp tingle. The same fake laugh brushed her forehead.
"You have a way of confusing people. Fine, turn it off and do it. Do whatever you want."
He rubbed the ends of her wet hair and headed for the bed. With a heavy thud and the sound of calling a puppy, he patted the mattress.
"Come here."