THE DARKEST HOPE

Chapter 47 Dealing With Death

Now, about the job." Ho-seok concentrated his attention back on his clients, every sign of amusement gone from his face. It was a dirty job, his profession. And he knew that he was going to get even dirtier after this order.

"We want someone killed." The Albino said. "We heard that you are the best one for the job."

"I am." Ho-seok confirmed. "Who?"

"His name is Taehyung, the son of The Old Kim, the owner of Kim Pharmaceuticals, do you know him?"

Ho-seok sucked another large gulp from the beer.

*******

Chapter 47

Dealing With Death

"Joonie's corner", a place once known only to few, but lately being one of the most know joints in town had once again obtained its usual dusty solitude and to Namjun's greatest satisfaction the bar was as deserted as possible. There were no clients in sight, the only living thing around was Ho-seok cleaning his weapons in the far corner of the room and some rats, scratching under the old wooded floor.

Namjun looked around with a thin content smile on his face. He sure liked his home. Most of his conscious years passed here, down these exact slippery stairs and he felt nostalgically attached to this cozy hole in the depths of the small and dirty streets of the poor part of town. At times it felt like his and Ho-seok's only hideaway, the safest, most private place on earth.

Not lately though. Not when the bar was overly crowded with people, going in and out whenever they wanted, a constant stream of curious eyes and sharp ears. Not when he had to be careful about everything he does and every word he says. And especially not when every policeman in the city knew of "Joonie's corner" and would randomly and annoyingly often drop by for a beer or two.

"Maybe we should change our crib, don't you think?" Namjun said while methodically wiping the counter dry.

"Mmmm..." Ho-seok mooed in agreement, still concentrated on his weapons.

"We made too much police friends around here, it is bad for business, you know..."

"If you say so..." Ho-seok didn't seem convinced.

"You have something else in mind?" Namjun pulled out two large glasses and started pouring some beer.

"Yeah... I've been thinking about something..." Ho-seok put the gun down and looked towards his friend.

"What?"

"Maybe I want to quit the job... I am tired of doing it anyway. Too much dead faces of random people... Too much blood on my hands..."

"Hah..." Namjun snored with amusement. "The recent events turned you into an honorable citizen, did they?"

"Maybe just into someone who wants to be decent, a better man perhaps..."

"Perhaps..." Namjun looked at Ho-seok lost in thought. What his friend was saying sounded good, a pleasing thought. But they shouldn't forget where they were living at, what time they were living in... Drop the crimes, start clean... But do what, survive in what way? When you think it all over it utterly came right back to where they started. Physical survival. Because idealistic ideas were a good thing to throw your tongue around but not on an empty stomach. And he could see it in Ho-seok's eyes too, the gloomy realization that in spite of everything they went through, they were back at the bottom of the ladder, exactly at the same place they were before. A place where you have to hit or they hit you, where you bite or you get bitten.