Seo-yeon shot to her feet, her hand balled into a fist. "Who is this?" She asked, her heart racing.
"Calm down," the man on the line said cooly. She could pratcially hear the smug smile in his voice.
"I'm a friend."
Her brow furrowed. "Are you Dae-hyun? Kwan? Suk-chin?"
Silence.
"Then you are no friend of mine!" She gritted out, anger bubbling to the surface.
The man on the line laughed.
"You're quite fierce," he chuckled. "Although you're slipping. Big Daddy wouldn't appreciate that."
Her blood ran cold, her mouth dried.
"What happened to Big Daddy?" Seo-yeon asked, masking her panic behind a steady tone.
Silence.
"What happened to Big Daddy!" She snapped, voice rising. "Answer me, you ass—"
"Woah! Language," The man on the line interrupted smoothly, tone still annoyingly amused.
Seo-yeon paced the room, heart thudding in her ears.
"Listen, my dear," The man's voice now clipped, serious. "I'll cut to chase. I have your pathetic father—and he will die—"
Seo-yeon's eyes widened.
Her world tilted.
A dizzy chill swept over her as her knees nearly buckled. She clutched her chest, trying to breath, but each gasp came out swallow and broken.
No. No, no, no...
Her thoughts were scattered like ash in the wind.
Big Daddy...kidnapped?
Her eyes darted about the room, searching for something—anything—to anchor her. But there was nothing, just that voice. Just those words.
No....
Not Big Daddy.
"Seo-yeon," The caller sang, dragging out her name in a sing-song tone.
Her stomach twisted.
Big Daddy always said her name like that.
"Don't mock me!" Seo-yeon snapped, rage burning inside her.
She spun on her heel, flinging her closet open. Her breath caught.
The picture—gone.
In it's place—a folded note.
Hands shaking, she snatched it up and unfolded it.
우리는 당신을 지켜보고 있습니다!
We're watching you!
She crushed the note in her fist.
"Back with us? Good," he purred through the receiver.
Her throat tightened. She wanted to scream, cry, vomit
"Now listen," he continued, smug as ever. "I have him. But...I'm willing to let him go—for a price."
Hope. Small. Addictive. It flared in her chest like a light in the dark.
"Name it," she said, steadying her breath.
"Fifteens heads," he said smoothly. "I want the heads of fifteen of the most dangerous mafia clan members. You bring me that...and Big Daddy lives."
Seo-yeon stared ahead, breath slow, heart calm.
Just like Big Daddy taught her.
The note in her hand bled red.
"You have it," she said.
Hours later, Ae-cha walked into the dorm, groaning. "Man, I'm exhausted," she yawned, kicking her shoes off.
Seo-yeon was packing.
"What's up?" Ae-cha asked, stepped closer, concern creeping into her voice.
Seo-yeon didn't reply.
Ae-cha's eyes dropped. "Are you...leaving?" She asked, quietly
Seo-yeon stopped. She straightened, turning to face her friend.
A smile spreads across her face. "I'll be back," she said, rubbing her shoulders.
Ae-cha sniffed, blinking away tears.
"Go, and buy some noodles. I'm a little angry," Seo-yeon added, rubbing her stomach.
Ae-cha smiled through her sadness, gave a quick nod, and spun on her heel, leaving the room.
The door shut a small click.
Seo-yeon turned around, opening her nightstand, and pulled out the small dish.
There were eight pills left.
Adrenaline pills or boosters as they were better known—illegal, dangerous, precious. Big Daddy had them smuggled from china. They gave her enhanced speed, and strength, pain resistance—near superhuman.
The downside was crippling fatigue. Immobilization for dazed
She used to pop them like candy—fistfuls at a time. Back when she was younger. Reckless, violent.
Back when she didn't care for the consequences.
She twisted the cap off, licking her dry lips.
Eight.
Eight pills.
Eight chances remaining.
She shoved the dish into her suitcase and zipped it tightly with purpose.
"You can come out now," Seo-yeon said, standing to her feet.
From the shadows emerged Baek Duri, smug as ever.
"Hello, Kim Seo-yeon," She cooed. "Or should I say...Kumiho."
"Return my picture," Seo-yeon said, voice low, steady. "And I'll let you live."
Duri scoffed, then laughed bitterly as pulled out a sword, brandished it with shaky pride. "So attached you are to your father," she sneered. "I hope he gets what's coming to him—because he killed mine!"
Seo-yeon's eyes flickered past her. "How disappointed he would be," Seo-yeon glanced behind her. "If I saw your path. The shame he'd feel."
With a roar, Duri charged forward.
Seo-yeon turned around, her hips turning with her. Revealing the hidden pen in her hand.
She clicked it.
A hidden blade emerged.
She stabbed her in the chest—clean and fast
Duri gasped. She dropped her sword. Blood slipped from her lips as her body went limp. Seo-yeon caught her, held her for a moment, then dragged her body to the closet.
She shoved her inside, shut the door and locked it.
Then, grabbing her suitcase, she took one last look at the room—the bed, the room, the desk, the memories with Ae-cha.
Click.
The door shut behind her.
Ae-cha returned with a steaming cups of noodles, humming softly to herself. She skidded to a stop in front of the dorm room, her eyes locked on something glued on the door.
A note
Dear, Ae-cha,
I'm sorry I missed the noodles but I will be back, soon.
PS: Don't go into her dorm for a while.
Love.
Seo-yeon.
The cup slipped from her hand. Hot broth splashed across the carpet, but she didn't notice. Couldn't.
Tears welled in her eyes. She pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, then let it fall away as the sobs overtook her
"Seo-yeon!" She cried, voice breaking.
"Seo-yeon..."
The train roared to life, the floor slightly vibrating beneath her feet..
Inside, Seo-yeon sat quietly, still dressed in her school uniform. A folded map lay sprawled across her lap.
In the top corner, tucked beneath the crease, was a worn photograph: Big Daddy, flashing his usual crooked grin, and Seo-yeon—ten years old, clutching cotton candy at an American circus.
She remembered it vaguely. Ringling Bros., maybe.
But that life felt like a dream now.
Her eyes scanned the map, tracing the inked lines and circles drawn in red. Big Daddy had given it to her years ago—a keepsake, she thought back then. Now it was a death list.
Fifteen names.
Kang. Chew. Gang. Do. Goo. Jeon. Jang. Lee. Bang. Jung. Chun. Jim. Han. Park. Nang.
Fifteen clan heads.
Together, they made up what the underworld called The Celestial Clans—divided into three sectors:
The Sun Clans
The Moon Clans
The Stars Clans.
Big Daddy was not a part of them. He never wanted to be. But he held the largest territory in South Korea—and that made him dangerous. Respected. Feared. The Celestial Clans were secretive. Ruthless. And above all—selfish. They'd strike down families, assassinate innocents, all in the name of pride or power…
But never each other.
That was about to change.
She popped the cover of her black marker, the scent of ink cutting through the stale train air. Without hesitation, she circled a name on the map.
Kang.
He was first.