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“Night classes? Don’t you teach fourth graders with Kels?”

I’ve risen to my feet, purse slung over my shoulder. “Yes, I do. But, well, education is taken very seriously here. Classes happen at all hours, even weekends. Even Christmas! You wouldn’t believe how dedicated the students are!”

Before he can utter another word of protest, I’m making my escape. I leave him gaping after me, greasy half-eaten burger in his hands and leaf of lettuce in his teeth.

In such a rush to get away, I’m damn near tripping over my own feet scrambling out of Burger & Pasta. My focus is on putting distance between me and Andrew before he thinks to follow.

Heart still pounding from the awkward disaster, I don’t realize until I see the neon glow of club signs that I’ve taken a wrong turn.

I’ve somehow ended up in the middle of the street where all the night life in Haeundae Beach happens. I’m supposed to be making my way to the subway to my neighborhood on the other side of Busan.

The street is full of drunk strangers weaving in and out of each other, laughing and shouting, searching for their next stop.

I’m probably the only sober person around.

I turn the next corner, hoping I’ll spot a sign for the subway soon. The bright neon lights are nowhere to be found.

Suddenly, all the noise from the main street fades and the tight-knit stack of buildings on either side are shrouded in shadows.

I’ve gone way too far and turned down a side passage that’s more alleyway than street. I need to double back and retrace my steps to Burger & Pasta.

My stomach drops before I can. My gaze has fallen on the figures further down the alley.

There’s a whole group of them. Men crowded around as another person, on his knees, pleads with them.

“Please… I’ll pay… I swear I will,” he sobs in Hangugeo. “Give me another chance!”

I understand each word he speaks as his bottom lip quivers and snot drips from his nostrils.

The man who seems to be in charge gives no reaction to the man’s pleas. He offers only a cold stare as the other man weeps at his feet.

He’s dressed in a leather jacket, his face half hidden by shadows. But his tattoos aren’t; they creep up his neck and what little I can see of his hand.

I don’t even know who he is, yet immediately I pick up on his authority. The dominance he holds over the scene.

The rest of the group stand behind him, like they’re ready for whatever command he gives.

“Please, I beg of you!” the sniveling guy says.

Smack!

The man with the tattoos backhands him hard across the face, and he crumples the rest of the way down, splashing into a puddle.

“I hate begging,” he says simply. “Don’t beg me. Don’t expect any mercy.”

“Y-Yes… of course… not… I…” The sniveling man pushes himself back up on his knees and brings his hands together in a prayer gesture. Tears pour down his cheeks like a river stream. “Give me… give me another chance, Jin. Just one more!”

“You have defied the Baekho for the last time,” says the tattooed leader. He pulls a large knife from the inside of his leather jacket, the sharp blade gleaming in the pale moonlight. “Your blood repays your debt, but your ancestors will forever weep at this dishonor.”

He runs the man through with the blade, stabbing him in the gut. The man goes still, his eyes widening in shock as blood instantly spills from his lips. It takes him another second to godown, his trembling hands dropping to the hilt of the knife as if he hopes to pluck it out.

Instead, he tips over, splattering back into the puddle, coloring the dirty water with his blood.

I gasp despite myself, startled by what I’m witnessing.

The tattooed man’s eyes snap up and lock onto mine from across the alleyway. A cold shiver instantly racks down my spine, and I take several slow steps back.

Shit, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop! This is none of my business!