Outside, the city moved in its endless rhythm. The breeze carried the faint scent of sizzling street food through the open door, mingling with the sweet aroma of summer flowers from the planters by the window. Cars murmured past while pedestrians passed in a colourful blur.
Seo-joon's grin stretched wide across his face, bright as the first star at twilight, and his eyes twinkled with that familiar mischief you remembered from childhood.
"You still haven't changed your order, huh?" Seo-joon teased, nudging the cup slightly.
You smiled, watching the way his dimples collected sunbeams. "I guess some things don't need fixing."
Seo-joon laughed, making you remember all the stupid little moments from childhood. "You're right. So, what's new? What's been keeping you busy? Work again?"
You leaned back, letting your gaze wander to the window. "Something like that. But mostly just trying to keep up with Seo-joon's impossible standards of hanging out with him."
He rolled his eyes. "Impossible standards? Please, I'm just able to make time for my adorable little sister. You, on the other hand, have to work at it."
"Obviously," you laughed. "But hey, look at us. We're actually catching up more than once a year."
The two of you slipped easily into the comfortable rhythm of sibling banter, covering everything from the ridiculous celebrity scandals that had exploded overnight to teasing each other about old friends you barely kept in touch with and reminiscing about the dumb stuff the two of you got into as kids. Seo-joon always had that familiar knack for turning even the most mundane stories into little fairy tales.
By the time the coffee was just a sad stain at the bottom of the cup, Seo-joon was already pushing back his chair.
"Wanna take a walk?" he asked with a wide, playful grin.
You grinned back. "Thought you'd never ask."
The two of you stepped out into the warm summer air. The afternoon breeze was cool and soft as it brushed against your skin.
Korea was beautiful like this. Neon signs were waiting to be lit, while the hum of conversations and laughter from nearby pedestrians mixed with the occasional clink of beer glasses from a patio somewhere down the block. For a second, you almost forgot how much noise the place could hold.
"Feels nice," you remarked, mostly to yourself.
"Mm. Lucky you," Seo-joon replied. "Most nights, it's just noise and people shoving past you."
You smirked. "Guess I'm seeing the romantic side."
"Give it a week," he laughed. "Romance wears off once you've been elbowed five times in a single night."
A moment later, his phone buzzed with a news alert. He glanced at it before tucking it away.
"What was that?" you asked.
"Another suicide," he sighed. "They're saying there's been a big spike in... anger issues. Especially between high school friend groups."
"Intermittent explosive disorder, right?" you asked.
He glanced at you, eyes widening. "You actually read the articles and watch the news?"
You nudged him. "I'm not a complete idiot."
"Debatable," he teased, then he gave a small shrug. "But yeah, that's what it is. Honestly, it's not surprising. Between school pressure, parents breathing down their necks, and the whole 'your future depends on your grades' thing..."
You hummed in agreement.
"And it's not just the studying," he went on. "Everyone's so wound tight here. It's like... you poke them the wrong way, and they snap immediately."
You sighed. "People are resembling twigs more and more these days."
"Exactly," he nodded, kicking a stray pebble down the street.
"Hey, at least there aren't guns," you smiled. "That would make everything a lot worse than it already is."
He let out a small laugh. "One of the few perks of living here."
Time slipped by easily until the sun began to dip low, the gold sky bleeding into a dusky purple.
Seo-joon glanced at the horizon, then back at you. "I'll walk you home."
"You don't have toβ"
"I'm not letting my baby sister get kidnapped on the way to her apartment."
You rolled your eyes. "It's not that late, and I'm literally a full-grown adult."
"It's late enough for my peace of mind," he laughed, already steering you down the street. "And you'll always be my baby sister in my eyes."
The night had already settled in, the sky a deep navy draped over the city. Street lamps bled soft light across the pavement, casting long shadows behind the two of you. Somewhere in the distance, a delivery scooter buzzed by, leaving the faint scent of fried food in its wake.
Suddenly, sharp cracks tore through the quiet like stones shattering glass.
You froze mid-step. "What the hell was that?"
Seo-joon's head snapped up as he froze as well. "Gunshots...?"
"No," you whispered. "That... that can't be possible. Korea is a gun-free country."
He began scanning the street, his shoulders tense. "Stay here," he ordered firmly.
"Seo-joonβ"
"Stay."
His tone left no room for any debate. He moved off quickly, running across the street towards a narrow side alley where the sound came from. You stood still for all of a few seconds before your feet betrayed you. Curiosity was thrumming in your chest like a second heartbeat.
Keeping to the edges of the street, you slipped after him. When he turned into the alley, you pressed your back to the wall, flattening yourself against the cool brick just before the corner. You could hear his footsteps ahead, slow and more cautious now. You were surprised that there weren't any other pedestrians nearby. There was just you, your brother, and whoever else was on the other side.
You pressed yourself tighter against the rough brick, heart hammering louder than your cautious breaths. The alley smelled of damp concrete and something metallic, maybe rust or old blood, but you couldn't be sure.
"Waitβplease!" Seo-joon's voice cracked. "I promise I won't tell anyone! Please! I have a family. My sister! Please! She'sβsheβ"
You peeked inside, and the first thing you noticed was a man. He was standing at the middle, and he wasn't anyone you had seen before. You were certain you would have remembered him if you had. He was rather tall but lean in the way of someone worn down by illness or too many sleepless nights.Β He looked like a man who had been carved out of the last hours of the night. Ink marked him in jagged glimpses. A tattoo crawled up his chest, while another snaked down the back of his hand, vanishing into the cuff of his sleeve.
But his eyes were the most unsettling feature. One eye was a muted brown, the colour of an earthy soil after rain, almost warm and comforting in a way. The other was a cold blue, catching the light in a way that made it seem like a shard of the sky had been set onto his face. You couldn't help but wonder why he would only wear one blue contact lens. And why someone would compliment those two hues was far beyond you. But whatever the reason was, the contrast was beautiful in a way that made you uneasy.
Those mismatched eyes stayed on your brother, moving over him like they were measuring his worth and finding it lacking.
The man didn't answer. Instead, he raised a dark grey object to his chest, and a deafening crack split the silence.
You jerked back, ears ringing, and the smell of gunpowder was already reeking in the air. In that suspended moment, you told yourself you hadn't heard what you thought you heard nor saw what you thought you saw. But then Seo-joon's knees buckled. He crumpled and hit the pavement with a thud, next to another fallen man.
"Noβ" you managed to say, though the word tore through your chest and strangled your throat.
Your feet couldn't move. It was as if your brain had barricaded itself against the reality in front of you. The metallic tang of blood carried to where you stoodβrepulsing and nauseatingβand there was no way to escape it.
He wasn't moving.
No.
Get up.
He's fine. He has to be fine.
The world shrank to that awful image of your brother sprawled on the filthy pavement, the pool of red beneath him spreading like a rotten flower. Your chest clenched so tight you couldn't breathe.
Seo-joon. Please. Get up.
Both your thoughts and heart fractured. They burned with anger. The hollow ache of the familiar presence you had grown up with, laughed with, and loved your whole life was slashed by fury.
The rage surged up so fast it burned away the shock like a moth to a flame. Every muscle in your body itched to move. To throw yourself into the alley. To tear the gun from the man's hand and put it to his head. To make him feel the same shattering loss that had just ripped through you.
All of a sudden, the man's head lifted in your direction, and those mismatched eyes found yours.
Fuck.
Should you fight? Should you run? Would either even matter?
The air between you seemed to solidify. It became thick enough to choke on. The wrong move here could put you next to Seo-joon on the ground.
And then, as if some buried instinct clawed its way to the surface, you blinked hard like you were struggling to focus.
"Babe?!" youΒ cried out. You took a hesitant step forward, brushing your hand clumsily against the wall like you were feeling your way. You turned your head slightly away from the man, as though trying to follow a sound you couldn't place.
"Where are you? Damn you, why did you leave me?" Your free hand stretched out into the empty air, curling slightly as if expecting to collide with someone.
"You know I can't see, you fucking bastard!" you shouted, your voice laced with fake annoyance. You kept your chin angled down to never meet his eyes again.
Out of the corner of your vision, you caught the glint of metal. One of the men at the man's side raised a gun, and you were so close to flinching. The mismatched-eyed man's hand then lifted, pressing down the other's weapon until the barrel lowered.
He gave him a look before stepping forward into your path.
You kept moving as if you hadn't noticed, counting your own uneven steps in your head until your outstretched hand collided with something warm and solid.
Your fingers splayed instinctively against the fabric of his chest, feeling the faint rise and fall beneath your palm. And you would be lying if you said that the mere reason why your heartbeat was beating so fast was due to fear.
"Babe? Is that you?" you asked, tilting your chin just enough to make it seem like you were listening for his voice rather than watching his reaction.
Silence.
You noticed the slight tilt of his head, and you tried not to glance up at that moment to meet his eyes. Well, if you were to meet his eyes, then it would be quite obvious you were faking your blindness, as he was rather tall. Six feet at least. You would have to move not only your eyes but also your head in order to do so.
"Answer me, you bastard!" you hissed, your palm following before your brain could tell it not to. The slap landed clean against his cheek, the sound cracking in the narrow alley.
Gosh, that felt good.
And then just as quickly as it began, the high of it burned off just enough for your stomach to drop. The realization slammed into you. You had just struck a man who had not only a gun in his hand but also many men under his command.
Well, you were pretty much screwed.
The kind of screwed where your obituary would be politely worded but secretly thrilling for the neighbourhood gossip. "Tragic accident," they'd call it, while sipping beer over the fact you died in the company of your already-dead brother.
The high burned off just enough for your stomach to drop. You had just struck a man who had a gun out of a fit of rage. You could very well visualize your body crumpled next to his. Maybe the police would have to puzzle over whose blood was whose. Or maybe the rain would wash it all away into the gutter.
A low chuckle broke the silence. "Well," the man said in Korean this time, his tone awfully cheerful, "you've got quite the aim for someone who can't see."
You blinked. For a man who had just shot your brother with a gun God knows where he got it from, he was quite... friendly.
"Oh, you're not my boyfriend," you muttered, keeping your direction angled slightly away. "I'm so, so, so sorry! I didn't mean to do that. Are you okay?"
He laughed again, short and warm. "That was quite the slap, I must say. You are quite the dangerous one, aren't you?"
"Dangerous?" you scoffed lightly, because there was absolutely no way he was spouting all this bullshit when he just killed your brother. "I'm the one wandering around blind on a street. You're the one who's standing in my way."
"I suppose that's true," he hummed. "Still... bold of you to slap me before asking who I am. And calling me 'babe' when your boyfriend probably ran away long ago."
You tilted your head, feigning a confused frown. "Then you've been standing here for a while letting a lost woman touch your chest. That's even bolder. Creepy, too."
That earned you a grin. "You're fun."
He stepped closer, not with the hunger of a hunter cornering its prey, but with the inexorable grace of the moon pulling the tide. He moved closer and closer, drawing you into orbit until he eclipsed everything else. The world beyond him ceased to exist, and the very air you breathed seemed to belong to him now, leaving only his presence and the pulse of your own heartbeat. His head tilted, a gesture as delicate as the turning of a petal towards the sun, until his mouth hovered just above yours. The space between the two of you thinned into a fragile thread so that your lips might have met if either of you had so much as leaned in.
Without breaking your gaze and the fragile distance, his hand slipped inside the inner folds of his blazer. The movement was unhurried, as if he were retrieving nothing more dangerous than a pen. But when his fingers emerged, they cradled cold metal with its weight catching in the dim light.
He lifted the gun, and its muzzle found the part where your chin met your throat. The steel was so close that you could have sworn it brushed your skin. You could feel your heartbeat drown out all other sounds while your breath caught in your chest.
Shit. Now you'd finally gone and done it.
Well, not to worry. Your brain had always been good at last-minute plans. They were always pulled from sheer desperation and a touch of arrogance. Surely, this would be no different, even with your very own life on the line.
You drew in a slow breath, letting your expression melt into something laced with exhaustion. Your hand rose to cover your mouth as you let out a soft yawn, as though this entire encounter was nothing more than a tiresome interruption to your evening. And then, without so much as a blink, you turned away from the gun and began stepping away.
"I'll just be on my way, thenβ" you started, but two steps in, your shoulder met the unyielding Stop sign with a resounding clang.
A low amused sound drifted from behind you. It was the kind of laugh that belonged to someone utterly entertained at your expense. He started to turn away as though he had already lost interest in you. Or maybe you held enough interest for him that he had the courtesy to let you live for another day.
"Wait!" you blurted, pitching your voice with desperation to fool him. "Stranger! Are you still here? If you are, do you mind helping me to my house?"
Even though you didn't need to keep up the act of blindness as he was about to leave, you had a plan in mind that you had recently thought of. If he said yes to walking you back to your door, you'd make sure it was the last place he'd ever see.
There was a flowerpot near your door. It was heavy, ceramic, and solid enough to break bones if you swung it right. You would grab it and bring it down to his skull with every ounce of fury you could muster. And when he was still dazed and reeling from the stars you had just put in his vision, you'd take your keys and drive them straight through whatever part of him you could manage. It wouldn't matter if you would die from the other men around him or get arrested, you would be satisfied.
You then frowned at a countering thought. Who was to say he would agree? He had just killed your brother without a second thought. Why would a man like that waste his time escorting some helpless, blind person home? Maybe he'd rather leave you to stumble into the street. You would just be another anonymous tragedy for tomorrow's headlines, enough to entertain him for another day.
He sighed. It was a slow exhale, as if he was carrying the weight of some long-suffering patience. "Poor you," he murmured, almost sadly. "You must feel so helpless, wandering blind after losing your only companion."
You blinked, just once, tilting your head faintly at the unexpected edge of empathy. But you knew that his warmth was only an illusion. The rage in your chest only built more and more after each mocking syllable he uttered.
"How about instead," he continued, grinning, "you live with me. That way, you'll always have someone to take care of you."
You let out a dry laugh, tilting your head as if confused but also amused. "To your place? Isn't that what all kidnappers say?"
"A kidnapper? Oh please," he yawned. "If I were a kidnapper, you wouldn't even be standing here to ask. You would have long been in my car, blindfolded. Well, I suppose a blindfold wouldn't really be needed."
He chuckled at his own little joke. "It's safer than you stumbling around alone in the dark and colliding into stop signs."
"Safe," you repeated, arching a brow.
"Mhm," he hummed, the grin still in place. "It's a rather big place. You'll have your own space, more food than you could finish, and the company of... let's just say, a lot of others."
"Oh, it's okay," you smiled. "I think I can manage. Thank you soβ"
"No, no," he wagged a finger in the air even though you were 'blind' while he nodded with mock solemnity. "That won't do. I can't just leave someone as helpless as you to fend all for herself. Where's the chivalry?"
Before you could protest, his arm slid around your shoulder and began leading you forward to his car.
You barely caught the exchange in English nearby. One of the many foreigners who was leaning by a car said something about whether this was a good idea and another phrase you couldn't quite understand.
I really should have paid more attention in English class, you thought bitterly and helplessly.
Then the man answered in English too, tossing words you caught clearly enough, but the full sentence slipped through your grasp. He said something along the lines of "plan," "useful," and "innocence." You just assumed he'd be using you to cover for his innocence in case the police suspected him, which just pissed you off horribly.
You glanced up at the man who had just killed your brother. But instead of fear, your heart drummed in a strange rhythm made of equal parts of dread, resentment, and something dangerously close to... curiosity?
But that didn't stop that dull ache in your chest. The grief and devastation began to burn into spite. That man, with those split-coloured eyes like some cruel joke nature had tried to play, had stolen someone who meant everything to you in one moment. Yet, you continued to let his hand rest casually on your shoulder as if he wasn't the reason your entire world had just been gutted and left to bleed out in a dirty alley.
Your mind screamed at you to run, to scream, to do anything, but the weight of his palm stayed you. It wasn't heavy in the literal sense, but it pressed down with a kind of authority.
You swallowed hard, the taste of bile still lurking in the back of your throat. Seo-joon's laugh still echoed faintly in your head, clashing with the haunting ring of that gunshot like two discordant notes that would never resolve no matter how much time was given. You could still see him, warm and alive. But the image kept fracturing. It was replaced with the way he had fallen and the sound his body had made when it hit the ground.
And this man? This man had the audacity to smile at you.
Your grief clawed at the walls of your chest, desperate to tear its way out, but you did everything in your will to lock it down.
You needed to take revenge.
The thought shot through all of your agony and grief. It was as if it had triggered something in your heart you would have never even guessed was buried inside in the first place. It was as if some deep, ancient instinct had been lying dormant in the marrow of your bones the entire time. You would make sure that every day spent in his presence would be another day closer to returning the very bullet that tore through your brother's chest.
You told yourself to be patient. You had to let him think you were harmless and helpless. You had to take on the role of a cornered animal that had learned to look like prey until it could see the predator's throat. Because rushing headlong into revenge would only get you killed. You would learn him. His habits, his weaknesses, and everything about him that he hid beneath the surface, all while playing the part of someone who couldn't possibly be a threat.
You exhaled slowly, stumbling as you climbed into the car. The door shut not long after, and you were sealed inside with the weight of your own act pressing down on your shoulders and heart.
there will be a lot of posts soon from people sharing how much they achieved in 2025. but in case someone needs to hear this, it's okay if the only thing you did this year was just get through it.
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