It wasn't too late | Kimchay (ENG VER)

Chapter 5

The line outside the club was long, and the patrons waiting to get in were visibly annoyed as they watched Kim bypass the queue. "Mr. Kimhan," the bouncer greeted him with a slight bow. Kim nodded in acknowledgment, adjusted the sleeves of his jacket, and stepped inside, ignoring most of the people who recognized him and tried to catch his attention. His shoes, stylish but uncomfortable, squeaked on the polished floor, the sound blending with the soft music wafting through the room. Kim settled on one of the cushioned stools, his back to the bar, and let his gaze wander among the well-dressed crowd, who were engrossed in conversation and sipping colorful drinks. Without turning, he gestured with two fingers for the bartender to approach. "Can I get you something to drink, sir?" the bartender asked. Kim flashed the Theerapanyakul family ring on his finger. "I'm here to see someone," he replied, feeling the bartender's nod and seeing him signal to someone across the room. Kim usually disliked flaunting his lineage, but sometimes a simple ring could save a lot of explanations, and tonight he was in no mood to linger longer than necessary. If he could, he would have preferred to stay home, pretending that the events of the previous night had never occurred. The memories were too vivid to ignore, leaving a wave of embarrassment. Just, how could he be so dumb. Begging Porchay, collapsing at his feet—it was all too humiliating. What had possessed him to drink so much?
After all that, he surely wasn't supposed to leave his apartment, but his plan for the evening had been derailed when he received a call from one of his informants, who had tipped him off about some dealings with the Italians. And so, here he was, sitting in this club, wearing an elegant suit and a gun holster under his jacket, hoping the information would be worth the disruption to his evening.

A bullet whizzed past his ear, shattering a couple of liquor bottles behind him. "Damn it," he muttered, diving behind the counter for cover. Screams erupted as people scrambled for the exits. Kim caught sight of the bartender he'd just spoken to trying to escape. Grabbing him by the scruff of the neck, Kim pressed his gun against the man's side. The bartender shook like a leaf. "Don't hurt me. I just did what I was told," he stammered. Kim rolled his eyes; people like that always get themselves into trouble and then plead for their lives. They could at least avoid the humiliation. "Who are they?" Kim demanded. The bartender shook his head, tears streaming down his face. "I-I don't know..." Kim tightened his grip, pressing the gun barrel harder. "I-I really don't know. Please... they just told me to signal them when you arrived."
"Who told you?" Kim needed confirmation. "I'll count to three..." he warned, but the bartender didn't let him start counting. Terrified, he blurted out, "Yin! His name is Yin. I do some jobs for him to earn some money. I swear I don't know anything else." Kim mentally updated his list of pet peeves, adding fucking traitors to it. But that was a problem for another time. Right now, he had to get out alive.
He shoved the bartender away. "Don't let me see you again, or I won't be so generous," he snapped, moving off before the man could express his thanks. Kim dashed toward a small alcove in the wall, narrowly avoiding the gunfire. He drew his gun and returned fire, cursing himself for taking a taxi to get there. He was outnumbered and under-equipped. He spotted the neon sign indicating the emergency exit. It was madness to even think he could reach it without getting hit, but his options were limited.
The footsteps grew closer. Blood pounded in his veins as his survival instincts screamed at him to act. He switched hands on the gun, waited a moment, then punched the first assailant who appeared in the jaw. He took advantage of the confusion to disarm the man, wrapping an arm around his neck and using him as a shield. Bullets meant for Kim found their mark in the attacker, who stopped struggling and slumped against him. With the man's blood making his hands slippery, Kim dragged himself towards the exit. Only a few steps separated him from the door. Kim aimed at two men approaching him, but his gun clicked empty. A frustrated groan escaped his lips. He glanced at the emergency exit behind him, then back at his assailants. In a split second, he pushed the lifeless body towards them, causing them to stumble back in surprise. Seizing the opportunity, Kim flung the door open and burst out into the night. The cool air hit his face, and he didn't need to look back to know they were pursuing him. He ran as fast as he could, ducking into alleys and narrow streets. He couldn't afford to be recognized; blending into a crowd was too risky.
Kim stumbled, a wave of heat and pain from his leg forcing him to look down. Blood was gushing from a bullet hole in his pants, soaking his sock. The bullet hadn't gone through; otherwise, he wouldn't have the strength to keep limping. The pain was intense, hitting him with every step. He was losing ground, and now, only a miracle could save him.