"I don't do shit halfway, sweetheart. You step in my flames, you'll burn to ashes!"
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The Kings of the underworld are in a bit of a predicament; their rule over the city is challenged as an old enemy...
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They stooped in front of an abandoned warehouse. She recognized this one. It was the one near the seaside where he had taken her to show her how he tortured the people who betrayed him. The night he killed that poor bartender who had tried to set her up.
They hadn't said a word all the way there. No radio, no looks exchanged. Only the silent humming of the engine as they drove near the sea. It took her a moment to realize they were in Busan.
She's been absent throughout the drive there. She was thinking about everything over and over. She wondered what could he really know about her and how. She needed to contact her informer to understand if he had gotten any intel about everything she was trying to hide. Prioritizing what she would do once she was out of sight, making a mental list of things she needed to erase or plant in order to fool them.
What troubled Marcella most was that he mentioned him. Could he possibly know about her past? If so, how much did he actually know?Why didn't he say anything earlier? Who told him whatever it was he knew?
'I'm not him...'
The words replayed again and again in her mind. They were very specific and intentional.
'You can't destroy me...'
Maybe he meant her uncle.
'And I can't hurt you.'
Could he mean Lijun?
'Not really.'
No. His eyes were too dark to mean him.
The smell of salt water filled her lungs and she looked up to see the sea.
Only then did she came out of her haze.
"We're in Busan?" She whispered bewildered.
She had completely lost track of time, so invested she was in her plans and fears.
He said nothing back. After a few minutes, he killed the engine and stepped out of the car, his silence as heavy as the air between them. Without a glance in her direction, he circled the vehicle and came to a halt in front of it, his back turned to her as he settled onto the hood, lost in his thoughts.
She knew he was expecting her to follow him immediately, but she didn't. She kept staring at his back, wondering what he could possibly want to talk about. Her gaze was fixed on him, captivated by the contrasting landscape that unfolded before him. To his left loomed the warehouse—dark, foreboding, and lethal . To his right lay the sea—stunning, dangerous, and free.
She took a deep breath and decided to step outside before she pissed him off any more than she already had. She closed the door and approached him. He was rolling a cigarette.
"So," she took the courage to ask. "What do you want to talk about? And why did we have to come in the middle of nowhere to do so?"
He remained silent for a moment before he offered her the joint. She tried to take it but he moved his hand in the very last minute, locking his eyes with hers when he did.
