God of Blackfield

They handled the situation quicker than expected. Once Yang Dong-Sik had swiftly caught Choi Chun-Sik, the rest of the gamblers were no longer a concern.

Oh Gwang-Taek entered the farmhouse and "educated" the manager, runners, and lookouts with his fists. Meanwhile, Kang Chul-Gyu, Yang Dong-Sik, and Nam Il-Gyu dragged Choi Chun-Sik, who was unconscious, to the car.

Yang Dong-Sik and Nam Il-Gyu lifted Choi Chun-Sik, put him in the trunk, and closed the lid. About three minutes later, Oh Gwang-Taek walked over.

“Hop aboard,” he told the three men and then climbed into the driver’s seat. Kang Chul-Gyu sat in the front passenger seat, while Nam Il-Gyu and Yang Dong-Sik got in the back.

Once all the car doors had been closed, they immediately drove away, leaving the eerily lit farmhouse behind.

Thud. Thud.

The car rocked along the unpaved road, shaking those inside.

“I made sure they understood the situation. None of them will be making any reports,” Oh Gwang-Taek said.

Kang Chul-Gyu, who was leaning a little, looked at him from the passenger seat.

“How long will it take from here?”

“About forty minutes,” Oh Gwang-Taek replied.

Thud.

Upon reaching paved roads, Oh Gwang-Taek stepped on the accelerator and picked up the pace. Unlike earlier, the ride now felt incredibly smooth.

While driving, he asked, “You didn’t kill the bastard, did you, hyung-nim?”

Yang Dong-Sik nodded in response.

“Ha, bastard! I told them to start a fire in the factory and start melting metal. I plan to make a small door with his ashes and set it up behind the factory. I’ve even thought of a name for the door.”

Following the curved road, the car took a quick left turn, its tires screeching.

Kang Chul-Gyu glanced at Oh Gwang-Taek.

What’s the name of the door?

“Since he’s despicable, I’m going to call it the Door of Reflection, implying that he should reflect until the door has been completely rusted away.”

Oh Gwang-Taek looked around to see the others’ reactions, but the atmosphere in the car remained somber, which wasn’t what he was expecting.

***

Kang Chan showered in the hospital room on the third floor and then changed into clean clothes. Afterward, he went up to the ICU, put on a sterile gown, and stood by Lanok’s bed. Lanok looked at Kang Chan with an unusually warm-hearted gaze.

“Anne’s condition has also stabilized,” Kang Chan informed him. He then told Lanok about the calls from Vasili and Yang Bum.

“Vasili and Yang Bum also send their regards,” he finished. “On another note, Sherman, Josh, Ethan, and Romain will arrive at Osan at dawn.”

Noticing that Lanok’s eyes were struggling to stay open, he reached out and lightly grasped Lanok’s hand.

“It seems we’ve already found the core of the enemy, so just get some rest. I’ll have some good news for you when you wake up.”

With Lanok no longer able to continue the conversation, Kang Chan bowed to him and moved to Anne’s bed. Anne, small for a French woman, looked at him with difficulty.

“Your father is safe, so don’t worry about anything else and just focus on getting better,” he reassured her. Anne only managed a faint smile in response.

“Everything will be alright. Stay strong, okay?”

An hour before midnight, Kang Chan left the ICU, removed the sterile gown, and headed back to the third-floor hospital room. Seok Kang-Ho, Gérard, and Michelle were waiting for him.

Honestly, Kang Chan wanted to go to the office. He wanted to check the location in Garnich that Gérard had mentioned and confirm a few things. Nevertheless, he decided to stay at the hospital to support Lanok and Anne and ensure Yang So-Mi’s last moments weren’t lonely.

First, Kang Chan asked Choi Jong-Il to prepare for Yang So-Mi’s funeral. He then sat down at the table. It had been an incredibly long and busy day.

Suddenly, he smirked. Despite everything, seeing Gérard opposite him made him laugh. If he hadn’t saved Gérard, this long, busy day might have ended horribly.

“Have you eated dinner?” Kang Chan asked.

Michelle glanced at Gérard and then shook her head at Kang Chan.

“I’ll order some late-night snacks. We can eat before heading in.”

“Oh!” Seok Kang-Ho cheered, making it clear that refusal was no longer an option.

“If you’re going to order, get some for the hospital staff and the agents too,” Kang Chan said.

“Who do you think I am?” Seok Kang-Ho replied cheerfully as he left the room.

While the dead lay in the cold morgue and the dying were confined in the ICU, the living ordered late-night snacks in hospital rooms.

Life didn’t require much. If one was capable, they could live a fancy and luxurious life. If not, he could endure with those around him. Why kill and fight for more?

As Kang Chan reached for a cigarette, Gérard got up to turn on the ventilator and open the window.

“Want some coffee?” Gérard asked.

“Well, isn’t that worth living for?” Kang Chan teased.

Gérard walked awkwardly to the corner. Watching the long-legged Frenchman pour two packets of instant coffee into a cup was quite a sight. Everything about him was long—arms, legs, eyelashes, nose, and even the scar on his cheek. That was all Kang Chan knew so far.

“Gérard.”

“Oui,” Gérard replied as he approached the table with a plastic cup.

“If you ever pull a stunt like this again…”

Gérard lowered his gaze, his expression tense.

Noticing the scar on his cheek twitch, Kang Chan couldn’t help but laugh. “Damn it! You’re playing the victim again, you bastard!”

Michelle, catching the mood, laughed as well.

“Together, we made it this far from Africa,” Kang Chan said.

Gérard’s eyes gleamed as he listened, and Michelle’s expression grew complicated again.

“So don’t fight alone.”

“Oui.”

“Fucker!”

As they shared a strange laugh, Seok Kang-Ho returned.

“I ordered thirty jokbal and thirty bossam. The hospital staff had to check the order before allowing it,” Seok Kang-Ho said. He then grumbled, “You made coffee as soon as I went out to order? You have no sense of camaraderie.”

Right after, he made himself a cup of coffee and brought it to the table.

“I also ordered stir-fried octopus and rice.”

Kang Chan nodded and put out his cigarette in a paper cup. If they wanted to stand a chance in the incoming battles, they had to eat and rest whenever possible.

***

Screeech.

Yang Dong-Sik grabbed both of Choi Chun-Sik’s ankles as if they were the handles of a handcart. He then followed Oh Gwang-Taek, dragging Choi Chun-Sik with him. As they walked across the parking lot and entered a building made of bricks, the first thing that hit them was the intense heat.

“Welcome,” three men built like barrels greeted Oh Gwang-Taek.

“Have you melted the metal?”

“It’s almost ready. Is that the guy?”

The man craned his neck to look at Choi Chun-Sik, who was sprawled on the floor. From their words, actions, and glances, it was clear to Kang Chul-Gyu, Nam Il-Gyu, and Yang Dong-Sik that these men were no strangers to this line of work.

“You guys step outside for a bit,” Oh Gwang-Taek instructed.

“Alright,” one of the barrel-chested men replied. He then gestured to the others. The two men bowed deeply before exiting the building.

“Time to let it all out, hyung-nim. Once you’re done, throw him in there.”

Oh Gwang-Taek pointed to a round container over roaring flames. It was just the right size for a hot bath.

“There’ll be nothing left of him within five minutes. Once he’s been liquefied, we’ll pour the metal into this mold, and the Door of Reflection will be finished.”

Oh Gwang-Taek emphasized the name he had given it, but the reaction remained the same.

“Do we really need to make a door?”

“It’s better that we do. If some nosy bastards come to investigate later, this will make it easier to say we were rushing an order since we can just show this as evidence,” Oh Gwang-Taek explained.

Kang Chul-Gyu nodded and looked at Yang Dong-Sik.

‘Do as you see fit.’

Yang Dong-Sik lowered his gaze. Choi Chun-Sik lay motionless on the floor, looking as if he were dead.

“Is that bastard here to sleep?” Oh Gwang-Taek muttered, slipping on a pair of thick gloves from the table. He then picked up a ladle-like tool and scooped some molten metal.

“Let’s see if he can sleep through this.”

Oh Gwang-Taek leaned back as far as he could from the heat and extended the ladle’s tip toward Choi Chun-Sik’s face.

Plop. Plop. Plop.

The molten metal from the ladle dripped onto Choi Chun-Sik’s face. A yellowish smoke rose, accompanied by the acrid smell of burning flesh.

“Argh!”

With a scream, Choi Chun-Sik woke up and immediately rolled on the floor. He brought his hands to his face but could do nothing more than flail around.

“Ha! So, you do feel heat, you bastard!” Oh Gwang-Taek said, putting the ladle away.

Meanwhile, Nam Il-Gyu brought a chair and placed it behind Kang Chul-Gyu.

“Do you have any cigarettes, Mr. President” Kang Chul-Gyu asked.

Oh Gwang-Taek rummaged through his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He then one each to Kang Chul-Gyu, Nam Il-Gyu, and Yang Dong-Sik. Afterward, he lit the cigarettes for them.

Click.

The light of the flame illuminate the four men’s glinting eyes.

“Hoo.”

After blowing out a puff of smoke, Oh Gwang-Taek turned back to Choi Chun-Sik.

“Get up, you piece of shit!”

Groaning, Choi Chun-Sik struggled to his knees.

“Hey, bastard!”

“Yes—”

“Stupid fucking scumbag!”

Choi Chun-Sik flinched and looked at Oh Gwang-Taek. Clearly, there was a specialty here. Neither Nam Il-Gyu nor Yang Dong-Sik understood why Oh Gwang-Taek was swearing.

Even though Coi Chun-Sik had answered when called, Oh Gwang-Taek still thrust his face close to him and cursed at him.

“You blew all the insurance money away, huh, you useless little shit?”

Choi Chun-Sik glanced at Yang Dong-Sik.

Crash!

Oh Gwang-Taek’s fist, clutching a cigarette, smashed into Choi Chun-Sik’s face.

Thud!

“Get up!”

Choi Chun-Sik scrambled back to his knees. He looked like he had lost what little composure he had.

“If you give me a shitty answer again…” Oh Gwang-Taek glanced at the blazing furnace. “I’ll throw you right in there, so you better answer properly.”

“Yes, sir,” Choi Chun-Sik answered.

Oh Gwang-Taek’s eyes bulged grotesquely, and his lips twisted strangely. This wouldn’t have any effect on Kang Chul-Gyu or Nam Il-Gyu, but it was a clear reminder of Oh Gwang-Taek’s gangster background—a truly repulsive impression.

“Did you waste away all the insurance money?”

“I-I did,” Choi Chun-Sik replied, dropping his gaze.

Yang Dong-Sik clenched his teeth so hard that his cheeks visibly twitched.

“Hey!”

“Y-yes!”

“Let me ask you one more thing. Why did you beat your wife even though she had cancer?”

Choi Chun-Sik couldn’t raise his head.

“Did she refuse to give you money? You needed some for gambling, but she held onto the insurance payout, so you beat her up for it? Is that it, hmm?”

Yang So-Mi’s pitiful final moments flashed through Yang Dong-Sik’s mind. He swallowed his tears as he glared at Oh Gwang-Taek and Choi Chun-Sik.

Yang Dong-Sik didn’t expect to be asked such a question. He thought Oh Gwang-Taek was just going to rough him up, not try to dig out the reason behind it.

Bam!

Oh Gwang-Taek grabbed Choi Chun-Sik’s head and punched him repeatedly.

Wham! Wham! Wham!

“Motherfucking trash! What did you see in those dying eyes that made you beat her up, you sorry excuse of a man?!”

Oh Gwang-Taek relentlessly targeted Choi Chun-Sik’s eyes.

“Didn’t you feel sorry for your dying wife, huh?!”

Wham! Wham! Wham!

Oh Gwang-Taek yanked Choi Chun-Sik’s head forward, making the latter tremble like an aspen tree.

“You can’t tell me why you beat her?”

Screeech!

Oh Gwang-Taek dragged Choi Chun-Sik’s head toward the furnace.

“I-It’s because that b-bitch said she wasn’t going to use the money for treatment! She said she was going to give it to her father!”

Thud.

Oh Gwang-Taek released his grip, and Choi Chun-Sik collapsed onto the floor.

“Keep going.”

“She said her father had nothing and that if she was going to die anyway, she wanted to at least cover his rent... When she said she would give the money to a father who never even visited her, I just lost it...”

Had Choi Chun-Sik not been so out of it, he wouldn’t have spoken like this. The tense atmosphere and Oh Gwang-Taek’s interrogation skills contributed to his breakdown.

Oh Gwang-Taek looked up, finding tears rolling down Yang Dong-Sik’s cheeks.

“I’ll leave him to you, hyung-nim.”

As if his task was done, Oh Gwang-Taek sat down in a chair and lit a cigarette.

“Il-Gyu,” Kang Chul-Gyu called.

“Sir,” Nam Il-Gyu responded.

“You take over.”

“Got it.”

Nam Il-Gyu stood up and looked around. They were in a factory that specialized in molten metal. Long iron skewers were scattered around.

Step, step. Swoosh.

Nam Il-Gyu picked up a skewer that was about a meter long and about five millimeters thick. It looked like a cut piece of rebar with a blunt end.

Nam Il-Gyu grabbed the skewer, walked over to Choi Chun-Sik, who was sprawled on the ground face-down, and lifted Choi Chun-Sik’s head.

“Gah!”

Nam Il-Gyu positioned his left leg over Choi Chun-Sik’s left shoulder and held him tightly. He twisted the skewer, aiming for the ear, with a demonic expression.

“Aaaah! Aaaah!”

Oh Gwang-Taek’s eyes widened, but unlike in Libya, where he had turned away when killing enemies, he didn’t look away this time.

The skewer didn’t go in easily partly because of the blunt tip and partly because Choi Chun-Sik was thrashing his head in desperation.

Crack!

“Aaagh!”

Crack! Crack!

“Ugh! Uuurgh!”

“You bastard! Why couldn’t you live like a decent human being? Why?! Why did you sell a dying person’s last hope just so you could gamble?!”

Crack!

“Arrgh!”

Nam Il-Gyu gritted his teeth and used every last bit of his strength. Finally, the iron rod emerged from the other side of Choi Chun-Sik’s ear.

“Dong-Sik, what do you want to do next?” Nam Il-Gyu asked, turning his head to Yang Dong-Sik.

Yang Dong-Sik slowly approached Nam Il-Gyu. He grabbed the end of the iron rod protruding from the opposite ear. Meanwhile, Nam Il-Gyu lowered his leg from Choi Chun-Sik’s shoulder and grabbed the other end of the rod.

Lifting together, the two men carried Choi Chun-Sik’s limp body toward the furnace. The final material for the Door of Reflectionwas thus dragged into the molten metal.

***

After eating their late-night snack, Michelle bid Kang Chan and the others goodbye and left. Once she was gone, the three men lay down on their beds.

What is there to worry about? We can just be thankful that Gérard is alive and that we are together again.

They had slept in piles of dirt, swamps crawling with insects, and mountainsides, so they all naturally fell asleep quickly in this quiet and safe environment. Due to the exhausting day that they had, they slept deeply and soundly. As time passed, moonlight entered through the window and flowed back out.

When Kang Chan woke up, he shook his head and got out of bed. The lights from the surrounding buildings illuminated the hospital room. He moved to the water dispenser, picked up a bottle, and drank it.

“Ugh!” Seok Kang-Ho groaned.

That bastard always wakes up like that.

Rustle.

Gérard woke up next. Kang Chan picked up two more bottles of water and handed them to the two. Gérard’s gaze lingered on the bandage wrapped around Kang Chan’s hand.

“Just drink the water,” Kang Chan said.

As they rehydrated themselves, they couldn’t help but appreciate the fact that they were all still alive and together. Soon, they washed up and made themselves presentable. Choi Jong-Il then arrived around twenty minutes past four that morning.

“Sir Kang Chul-Gyu and the others are already at the funeral hall,” Choi Jong-Il said.

“Have you even slept yet?” Kang Chan asked.

“I have,” Choi Jong-Il replied with a smile.

“Good. Anyway, got pistols and knives for Daye and Gérard?”

“They’re in the car. Should I bring them in?”

“The car we’re taking?”

“Yes, sir.”

No need to bother fetching them, then.

“We’ll just get them on the way,” Kang Chan said.

Following Kang Chan, Seok Kang-Ho, Gérard, and Choi Jong-Il headed out.

In front of the hospital entrance, six SUVs waited with their lights on. Kang Chan hoped the efforts and hardships of the agents waiting inside wouldn’t go to waste.

He walked past the SUV where Lee Doo-Hee was waiting and moved to the one at the very front. It wasn’t any different from going into battle. They were on a mission, ready for combat at any moment, not knowing who they might lose or when they might face death. No matter the outcome, they wouldn’t get recognition for it.

They only ever got attention for the international building incident. If they had failed back then, they would have had to take all the blame.

Tap, tap.

Kang Chan tapped the front windshield of the SUV twice and slowly walked alongside it.

Thank you. At the very least, I, Choi Jong-Il, Gérard, and Seok Kang-Ho understand the value of your sacrifices and efforts.

Tap, tap.

Kang Chan performed the same gesture with the second SUV, looking at the fully tinted side window. Just like in Africa, the men with him right now were precious comrades. However, unlike back then, everyone present now was close to his heart.

Kang Chan tapped the front windshields of the remaining five SUVs before getting into his own.

Vroom.

Once their convoy had exited the hospital grounds, Choi Jong-Il handed out radios, pistols, and knives to Seok Kang-Ho and Gérard. The two strapped the pistols and knives to their ankles and clipped the radios to their waists.

Meanwhile, the SUV sped onto the highway at an alarming speed, weaving through trucks and busy cars.

Before long, they reached the entrance of the Osan Air Base. After verifying Choi Jong-Il’s identity, the guard quickly raised the barricade.

Vroom.

The SUV drove straight onto the runway. The six SUVs then lined up with their headlights still on, illuminating the runway marked by guiding lights. Kang Chan got out, followed by Seok Kang-Ho, Gérard, Choi Jong-Il, and Woo Hee-Seung.

“Would you like some coffee?” Choi Jong-Il asked.

Kang Chan turned and smiled, prompting Choi Jong-Il to move to the SUV and pour pre-made instant coffee from a thermos into paper cups. The sweet aroma of the coffee filled the air.

“We gotta have a cigarette with this, don’t we?” Seok Kang-Ho said as he handed a cigarette to Kang Chan and lit it for him.

Click.

“Hoo.”

The cool morning air retreated from the cigarette smoke.

“This reminds me of our first trip to Mongolia,” Seok Kang-Ho said. He then glanced around the runway with a peculiar smile. In the distance, a plane with its wingtips glistening came into view.

“Daye,” Kang Chan called.

Seok Kang-Ho cast a sideways glance at Kang Chan. “Yeah?”

“Stay alert.”

“Got it.”

They didn’t know what could happen, but Kang Chan had just called him “Daye,” and he had had the intense look of someone heading into battle. Hence, Seok Kang-Ho was sure that something was up.

As Kang Chan stubbed out his cigarette in the empty coffee cup, the plane on the runway turned toward them.

Vrooom.

When the plane stopped, Kang Chan walked straight toward it. When the private jet’s door opened, a three-part staircase automatically extended.

Sherman was the first to exit.

“Mr. Kang!” Sherman called.

“Welcome.”

Kang Chan extended his hand. They shook hands warmly.

“Why don’t we talk inside?” Sherman suggested.

Looking into Sherman’s eyes, Kang Chan smiled and nodded. As Sherman stepped aside, Kang Chan entered the plane. Inside were armed agents in suits. Ethan, Romain, and Josh sat across from each other with uncomfortable expressions.

Romain silently grasped Kang Chan’s hand, his gaze lingering on the bandage wrapped around it. Next was Ethan.

“It’s been a while.”

“Yes, it has.”

Calling him an “idiot” inwardly, Kang Chan shook hands with Ethan. Finally, it was Josh’s turn. Josh looked at Kang Chan with an overtly uncomfortable and hostile expression. Kang Chan had no intention of forcing a handshake on someone who clearly didn’t want it.

Kang Chan smirked and reached out with both hands.

Thud.

Josh probably didn’t expect to be grabbed by the head as soon as they met.

“Mr. Kang!” Sherman called out quickly. Meanwhile, Romain and Ethan looked on in shock.

Kang Chan’s and Josh’s eyes locked.

“Didn’t you know? My codename, God of Blackfield, means the god who delivers death to his enemies.”

Josh’s eyes conveyed his thoughts as clearly as if he had spoken them.

You can’t be serious.