AAE -- Twists of Fate

Part 1 -- Chapter 24

by LoveCR2

edited by All-About-AAE

 

 

In-Soo pounds on the door with his fist, raising his voice. "I know you're in there, Young-Mi... Let me in! Or do you want me to wake this entire building?"

 

Young-Mi's eyes dart from her reflection to the door and back. Fingers fumbling in her haste, she buttons her jacket closed.

 

"Pipe down. I'm coming," she calls back, turning to unlock the door.

 

In-Soo barges in. His face is shadowed with a five-day stubble, his clothes covered with grime and dust. He stinks of stale beer and back alley garbage.

 

Young-Mi closes the door and follows him into the apartment.

 

He tosses her car keys and a large manila envelope onto the table. "All the negatives and prints, as we agreed," he says. "I want my money."

 

Young-Mi crosses her arms. "Where have you been all week -- with my car?"

 

He plops onto the bed, his legs sprawling. "Laying low. I needed it, since I can't be seen on the streets."

 

"Where is Jin Sun-Mi?"

 

His forehead creases. "What do you mean, where is she? How am I supposed to know?"

 

"You haven't seen the papers? The newscasts?

 

He takes a crushed pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his jacket. "I was busy. So what?"

 

"I told you to leave her by Kim Woo-Jin's grave, that's what! Why were her shoes and bag found by the lake?"

 

"Oh, that? It was a stroke of genius, right?" He lights up and puffs out a thin cloud. "I thought it'd be more believable if she was in the water."

 

Young-Mi blanches. "You put Sun-Mi in the lake? Idiot! It was supposed to be a failed suicide by sleeping pills -- not a drowning!"

 

"Calm down... I left her in the shallows, face up. No way she'd drown."

 

"Then what happened to her?" Young-Mi sinks into the desk chair, her face drained. "She couldn't just disappear. She must have drifted out into deep water..." Her voice trails off.

 

Cigarette in hand, In-Soo takes another puff. "So what? You've wanted to be rid of that bitch for a long time. You should be thanking me."

 

Young-Mi's head snaps up. "All I wanted was for her to suffer. To feel the pain of losing everything she treasured. I didn't want her murdered."

 

"Murder? That's a strong word." He leans forward, a sneer curling his lips. "But then... I'm not the one who roofied her. If she were even half-conscious, she'd have gotten herself out."

 

"When the police find the body, there will be evidence." She wrings her hands. "They'll be asking questions."

 

"Everything points to a suicide," he assures her. "No one's going to be asking questions."

 

Young-Mi chews her lip. "That's what you think. If they do an autopsy, they'll find she didn't take the pills. It will raise more suspicions."

 

"Then that's your problem, not mine," In-Soo declares with a twisted grin. "I'll have disappeared by then, and you'll be on your own, like you wanted... The money?"

 

 

Young-Mi stands, pointing to the door. "I'm not paying blood-money. Get out!"

 

In-Soo rises and closes in on her, raising his voice, "Pay me now! Or I'll make YOU pay!"

 

He seizes her wrist. Young-Mi strikes at him with her other hand. She struggles to free herself, but In-Soo shoves her down onto the bed. She kicks and screams, flailing but unable to push him off. He pins her with his weight so she can't move. Helpless, Young-Mi goes still.

 

His hand moves to her neck, squeezing slightly, forcing her chin back. She stares up at him with panicked eyes, gurgling for breath.

 

"I'm not a killer," he snarls. "Don't make me into one."

 

In-Soo releases Young-Mi and stands over her, looking down, hands curled into tight fists. She sits up and coughs, sucking in air, chest heaving, a hand on her throat. After her breath returns to normal, she stands and faces him, her eyes penetrating his.

 

She smiles. "I can't get you the money until tomorrow," she tells him. "But tonight, while you're waiting, I can give you something else... me."

 

In-Soo's eyes widen, ogling her from head to toe and back up again.

 

"Now you're talking my language," he mutters.

 

"You don't know how much I've missed you, Oppa," she purrs.

 

She unfastens the top two buttons of her jacket. The lapels gape open, revealing a glimpse of black lace. She steps forward, closing the gap between them.

 

"You're even sexier when you fight back," he says with a chuckle, gently cupping her chin. "But if you wanted it so bad, you could've just asked for it."

 

Young-Mi lifts an eyebrow. "Where would the fun be, then?" She slides her palms up his chest. "Give me a minute to slip into something more... appropriate."

 

He leers down her jacket. "Don't bother. You won't have it on long enough to matter."

 

Her arms circle his waist. He embraces her. Her lips find his. They kiss -- softly at first, then passionately.

 

In-Soo loosens his grasp and leans away. His fingers undo a button on her jacket, then another.

 

A sharp, recognizable click freezes him. He feels a point pressing lightly into his shirt, just above his belt. Tensing, he backs off slowly.

 

Young-Mi grips his switchblade in both hands. She brandishes the knife in his face.

 

He gulps. "Hey! Be careful with that!"

 

Crouching defensively, he moves out of her reach, keeping his eyes on the knife.

 

"Get out," she hisses, "while you're still in one piece."

 

In-Soo relaxes, standing straight. "You don't mean that. You don't have the guts."

 

"You don't know half of what I'm capable of," she snaps, her eyes ice cold. "You'd be dead now if I wanted it." Her voice warms a few degrees. "But I held back, for old times' sake... there was a time I did love you."

 

"We were good together, Young-Mi. We can be, again," he pleads. "Don't end things like this."

 

He takes tentative steps forward.

 

She slices the air with the knife, making him halt.

 

"Don't come closer, or I'll end things with you on the floor. You already tried to kill me once -- it will be self-defense."

 

In-Soo hesitates, then backs to the door. With a click of the latch, he is gone.

 

Young-Mi rushes to set the lock, the deadbolt, the security chain. She stares at the knife. It drops from her hand and clatters on the floor.

 

Looking up, she sees her reflection in the wardrobe mirror. Her hair is disheveled, her makeup smeared. Purple bruises mark her neck where his fingers clenched around her throat. Her Dior suit is dirty and rumpled, the jacket askew. She reeks with the pungent tang of terror, of fighting for her life -- of him.

 

Trembling, she staggers to the kitchenette, heels wobbly, nearly tripping. She takes down a bottle of whiskey from a cabinet, fills a shot glass, and gulps it down.

 

Bringing the bottle and glass with her, she crosses the studio in a daze and sets them on the table. Still shaking, she collapses onto the bed.

 

Head in her hands, Young-Mi closes her eyes and moans. "If Sun-Mi is found, what am I going to do?"