Knives and Morning Mist

The basement connected to the cabin groaned with the sound of someone writhing in agony — a sound that teetered on the edge of cutting off entirely.

Dan, clad in a black polo-neck t-shirt, pressed a razor-sharp knife against the man's jaw, drawing it slowly along the bone.

Blood trickled down, dripping onto the man's knees. Dan wiped the blade clean on the man's own shirt, his expression utterly placid.

The man's hands, bound behind his back, twisted into grotesque angles under the strain of pain.

"Next time it's your eyes. Don't ask again — what's the objective?"

Mickey's face was so ravaged by the marks of cruel torture that he was barely recognizable. Sharp blades had severed ligaments across his body, and his shattered cheekbone protruded hideously beneath the swollen flesh.

The tip of the knife slowly burrowed into the skin beneath Mickey's eye as he gasped, drool streaming from his mouth.

"Aaaaaagh!"

"Don't worry. I'll only prod you right up to the point of passing out."

"The… the client!"

Blood ran down Mickey's face like tears, his eyes streaming with it.

Dan kept the blade embedded and pressed on with his question.

"What kind of client?"

"In Korea. Keith Kwon destroyed three illegal gambling dens! The guys who got hit back then… ugh…"

"So you were trying to kidnap Keith Kwon?"

The man tried to nod, but the pain made him sputter, muttering a prayer under his breath. A criminal, and yet he sought God before death — a foolish man who believed in heaven stood right before him.

As if praying that fervently would make the pain subside, he trembled and spoke.

"You or me, we move when we get paid. If I'd known Valentine was attached to this, I wouldn't have taken the job! Hoo… hoo…"

"The kid."

Dan withdrew the knife from beneath his eye.

At the question about the kid, the man who had been bowing his head and groaning rolled his eyes. He was caught off guard by the unexpected question, and his desperate attempt to squeeze out an answer without being caught showed plainly.

"So the kid isn't the target, then?"

With a short laugh, the blade that had been circling the man's shoulders slid swiftly into his mouth. The terrified man crumpled like a deflating balloon.

"Looks like your work here is done."

The moment Dan's expressionless lips curved into a smile, a scream begging for mercy filled the cabin.

The man's face, torn horizontally, hung askew. Blood sprayed onto Dan's cheek.

Dan wiped the blood from his eyelashes with the back of his hand, peeled off his leather gloves, and pulled out a cigarette.

"I wish Da-in had seen you like this."

Clara Demon, slouched on the sofa munching a wrap sandwich, snickered.

Dan lit his cigarette and pointed at Mickey's corpse with his chin.

"Clean it up."

Exhaling thick smoke, he stepped into the washroom and turned on the tap with the cigarette still between his lips.

"How's Da-in? I still don't really get it. Our Mr. Sneyer getting involved in this — it's really suspicious. I figured he'd be in Gaza by now."

Clara, wiping mayonnaise from her mouth, leaned against the doorframe behind Dan as he stared at his blood-stained face in the mirror.

Dan soaked a towel and wiped the blood from his face and the back of his neck. Every time he tilted his head, the smoke made him frown.

"No reason. I just wanted to take a break. Hawaii — isn't it a good place to play?"

"You'd suit a Manhattan alley better, Dan."

Clara turned on her heel and clapped her hands overhead. Four sets of footsteps immediately followed.

They skillfully stuffed the corpse into a bag and cleaned the blood from the cabin. The body would be thrown into the middle of the Pacific to feed the sharks. They'd put it in a net and drop it beneath a fishing boat — use it as bait for the catch.

That was Clara Demon's way.

"If the kid isn't the target, then Da-in doesn't need to get involved, right?"

Clara glanced back at Dan's words.

Her pale blue eyes were still full of unresolved desire and hunger.

"Let her handle it all herself?"

"You know me. Planning operations and moving on my own — that's not my style."

"Then why did you bring Da-in in from the start if you were going to do it alone?"

"I don't know."

Dan stubbed out his cigarette on the sink and stepped outside. Leaving the busy cleanup crew behind in the darkness, he ran down to the dock.

Clara followed, climbing onto a scooter that seemed wildly out of place for her. The delivery bag strapped to the scooter looked barely able to handle Clara Demon's massive frame.

"Probably, she's got other guys attached to her. Those people definitely have a grudge. Keith Kwon isn't some ordinary guy either — there's even talk that whoever hired them got buried in cement."

"Clean."

"That just means he's got a lot of enemies. And the kid's young, right? When you've got a lot to protect, you end up like me."

Clara chuckled and started the scooter. The late-night beam of its headlight stretched out, illuminating Dan's yacht in the distance.

"So, you're going to handle it yourself?"

"I don't want to crush a C-class's enthusiasm."

"Looks like she pleased you."

Clara Demon laughed uncharacteristically. Dan shoved his hands in his pockets, looking annoyed, and walked on.

Da-in wasn't sure if she'd slept or just stayed awake through the night.

She got up before sunrise and stretched in her room, trying to shake off the memories that had tormented her all night, curling up with her throbbing head wrapped in her arms.

Still, last night's memories refused to leave her mind.

No one in life designs everything from one to ten — their future, their path. Even if someone did, the number of possible outcomes always existed.

You just go with the flow. Chance meets chance. Like how you might happen to run into a cat on the street and end up feeding it every day — no one lives with a predetermined answer for every moment that unfolds.

The kiss with Kwon Hee-jae yesterday had been nothing short of an accident for her. A natural disaster that struck without any contingency plan whatsoever.

She had just finished showering when she caught a presence outside her room door and tilted her head to listen.

"Auntie…"

The only person in this house who called her auntie was Kwon Yeon-woo. She opened the door to find the child standing there, dragging a rabbit stuffed animal the size of his own body.

"Yeon-woo. Why are you up so early?"

The boy hung his head glumly and fidgeted with his hands. Da-in noticed his shorts were completely soaked.

Whether from shock or embarrassment, Yeon-woo said nothing. She glanced around the still-dark hallway and threw her door wide open.

"Come in."

The boy shuffled in, dragging his slippers, and rolled his eyes around the room.

"You can take your clothes off yourself, right? Auntie's room has a bathroom too. I'll turn on the water — go wash up."

Da-in stepped into the bathroom and adjusted the shower's water pressure and temperature.

Then she carefully set the rabbit stuffed animal, which was clinging to Yeon-woo like a second skin, on the bed, and gently pushed his back toward the bathroom.

"It's a secret that I peed…"

"I know. Auntie will take care of that secret, so shh. You'll wake up Dad."

"Okay."

The boy pressed a finger to his lips and darted into the bathroom. Da-in smiled — he was both adorable and pitiable.

She hurried to Yeon-woo's room and stripped the sheets. She stuffed all the dolls that covered the bed into the laundry basket, then opened the window to ventilate the stagnant air.

She sprayed the antibacterial spray that Manager Kang always kept nearby, and by the time she finished, the sky was already brightening.

After moving the laundry to the washroom, Da-in returned to the room with Yeon-woo's fresh underwear and pants.

When she opened the door, the boy, covering himself with a towel, gave her an embarrassed smile.

Why did he feel so much bigger than when she first saw him?

"Put these on. And if you're still sleepy, sleep in my room. Auntie's going to work her part-time job."

He was getting pretty good at saying "auntie" now.

Yeon-woo, changed into the clothes she handed him, climbed onto the bed and rubbed his face against the rustling sheets. He pulled the rabbit stuffed animal close and tapped the empty space beside him.

"Can you stay and sing me to sleep?"

"You're a big boy now — can't you sleep alone?"

"Yeon-woo is small."

"Hmm, no. You've grown a lot."

Da-in plopped down on the edge of the bed, and despite her words, she stroked the boy's hair.

Yeon-woo, clutching the rabbit tightly, blinked. He stared at her as she soothed him, then suddenly tugged at her arm.

"Why aren't you mad, Auntie?"

"Mad? Why would I be?"

"I peed."

"Who's ever gotten mad at Yeon-woo for that?"

"No, that's not it…"

"When Auntie was little, I peed in my sleep too, and I had to go next door to borrow salt. It happens. It's okay."

Whether the salt story amused him, his dimples deepened and he giggled. His face, so much like Kwon Hee-jae's, lit up with innocent joy.

The boy fell asleep suddenly. Perhaps his tension had finally released — watching him sleep with soft snoring sounds, her own overdue sleepiness crashed over her.

But she had a meeting with Dan. She needed to wrap up yesterday's business. Whether the people they were after wanted Yeon-woo or Kwon Hee-jae, she didn't want to shatter their sugar-coated time together.

So she quietly got up, packed her bag, and opened the door — only for a familiar shadow to suddenly block her path.

The man, a full head taller than her, spotted the child sleeping in the bed and clicked his tongue.

"What are you doing here?"

Da-in covered his mouth and pushed him back step by step. He obediently stepped backward, lowering his gaze.

His eyes, revealed between long lashes, held her reflection. She didn't need to look up to know — she knew exactly what kind of eyes were looking at her.

Only after quietly closing the door did Da-in awkwardly remove her hand.

"Looks like I made a mistake in my sleep. Please keep it a secret. I'm good at keeping secrets, you know."

"You came looking for me, not Manager Kang?"

"I guess so. I must've been the only one awake."

He stared at the closed door for a moment, then let out a long sigh. Seeing her dressed to go out, he frowned.

"Where are you going this early?"

"Part-time job."

"What kind? I clearly told you to stop. To stay at the villa."

"Oh, really. I'm going to the rental shop. Surfing is supposed to be done before sunrise — right now is peak time."

Why are you up so early, anyway?

Her question, barely audible, was interrupted by someone's footsteps.

Where Da-in turned her gaze, a woman in a therapist's uniform stood there. Spotting the two of them, she smiled prettily, her eyes curving.

"I'm ready."

"Wait a moment."

Korean. A Korean therapist?

He pressed his thumb to her wide-eyed forehead, drawing her gaze to his. Tsk — he clicked his tongue again and plucked a stray hair from her cheek.

"Come straight back when your shift ends. If you don't answer your phone like yesterday, I'll come find you next time."

With that, he limped away. The waiting therapist supported his arm. Da-in stared blankly at Kwon Hee-jae disappearing down the stairs, then swallowed a curse.

Her face was burning — she couldn't stand it.