One day in Seoul 🇰🇷

🇰🇷: 9

I gripped the steering wheel as my car sliced through the quiet, shadowed streets of the city. I knew where I was headed-an underground den, far from the eyes of the law. A place where only the brave, or the foolish, dared to go. But I didn't fear this world. No, it feared me.

As the neon lights of the city faded into the distance, I pulled up to a narrow alley, almost invisible unless you knew where to look. I parked my car and stepped out. The air smelled like gasoline and decay-fitting for the kind of business that went down here.

I walked toward the entrance. The building looked like any other rundown structure, but I knew better. Behind those doors, deals were made that shaped entire markets-drugs, weapons, money laundering. It was a world I'd become all too familiar with, a world I controlled.

As I approached, a middle-aged woman stepped out from the shadows. She looked weak, frail even, but I knew better. She was the lookout, the gatekeeper of this place. With a simple nod from her, you were either let in or thrown out-and I wasn't getting thrown out.

"Sir Kim," she greeted in a low, raspy voice, "this way."

I nodded and followed her through a narrow corridor, the silence broken only by the sound of our footsteps. The hallway felt claustrophobic, dimly lit with flickering lights that added to the eerie atmosphere. We stopped in front of an old, rusted door. It looked like it hadn't been touched in years, but I knew better than to judge it by its cover.

Before I could reach for the handle, one of the guards stepped forward and patted me down. Guns weren't allowed in the premises, but I didn't need a gun to handle myself. I was good at what I did-too good, some might say. I let them take my weapon, watching as they stashed it away.

As the door creaked open, I stepped inside and was met with a stark contrast. The room beyond was luxurious, almost elegant. Velvet sofas, dimly lit chandeliers, and marble floors-this wasn't the kind of place you expected to find in the bowels of an old building. But that was the game. Make the outside look like trash so no one suspects what's inside.

I scanned the room without letting anyone notice. There were cameras in every corner, and men everywhere-some lounging, some doing deals, and others just watching, waiting. I wasn't here to be seen. I was here to get things done.

"Francis Kim, welcome," a voice called out from across the room. A young man in a tailored suit approached me, his smile too wide, too eager. "I'm honored you could make it."

"Let's skip the pleasantries," I replied, sitting down on one of the plush sofas. I didn't have time for small talk. "What do you want?"

The man's smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered. "Of course, straight to business. We need a shipment-ten kilos of the usual. Smuggled to Indonesia, no questions asked."

I leaned back, letting his words sink in. Smuggling drugs wasn't new to me, but this deal felt different. Something about it didn't sit right.

"I don't rush into things," I said, my eyes narrowing. "Why Indonesia? Why now?"

The young man, who introduced himself as *Enriquez*, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "It's a growing market. We have a new connection there, someone who can move the product without attracting too much attention. But we need someone with your... reputation to make sure the shipment gets there safely."

I paused, my mind racing through the possibilities. If something went wrong, it would be on me. But if I played it right, the payoff could be huge.

"I need more than just promises," I said coldly. "You want me to risk everything. I need a down payment. Half, now."