Chapter Text
♤
MUJIN
He had never expected to find his daughter.
Mujin had always known that Donghoon slipped away now and then to see some woman, but he had never imagined there was a child involved.
Liar, liar, pants on fire, brother. Was there even a single truth in you?
Mujin had just learned that Donghoon had been a traitor all along and was still trembling with anger when Taeju called to inform him that Donghoon had turned on his phone and driven off without him.
“I told him not to turn on his phone, sir. He didn’t listen, and after that, he told me to get out of the car and—”
“Did he tell you where he was going?”
“No, sir. He made a call from a payphone before that, and he seemed really upset. He was checking someone’s messages on his phone, I think— I’m really sorry, sir.”
“That’s okay, Taeju. I know where to find him.”
It was a good thing Mujin had never trusted anyone wholeheartedly. He had always thought Donghoon was the only person in this world who would never betray him, but deep down, his mistrust had never completely vanished. Out of sheer habit, he had followed Donghoon a few nights — not to spy, or so he’d told himself, but to reassure his own doubts.
Donghoon always came to this same house. Every fucking time. He would check the street carefully before entering the building, moving with the cautious rhythm of someone guarding a secret. He had once told Mujin that his wife had left him years ago and that he had no children. Mujin had trusted him enough to believe that, but apparently, he shouldn’t have.
So he assumed Donghoon was meeting a woman he didn’t want to talk about — and Mujin, respecting what little privacy he thought remained between them, hadn’t pressed.
How foolish I was.
Maybe I shouldn’t have come here alone, he thought bitterly, watching the faint light flicker through the apartment windows. Donghoon was clearly meeting his police colleagues here. Mujin had already decided to kill him himself — that much was certain — but he didn’t know what to do about the others. He didn’t want to kill any more police officers; his anger was reserved only for his dearest, treacherous friend. Yet it seemed he had no choice.
Well, he mused coldly, it would be a spectacular final gift to let him watch his friends die before he does. The thought almost amused him. Mujin wanted Donghoon to suffer — to writhe in pain, to feel regret bloom in his eyes just before his last breath. He wanted him to feel the same anguish that had consumed him when he realized the betrayal.
He wanted revenge.
Animosity surged through his veins as he entered the building. He was just beginning to consider how he might break into the apartment when fate seemed to deliver him the answer. Donghoon appeared right in front of him, frozen with shock, a key dangling uselessly in his hand.
Looks like the gods are on my side tonight, my old friend.
Mujin began walking toward him slowly. Donghoon instinctively reached for the gun in his pocket, but Mujin was faster. He raised his weapon and fired — the bullet pierced Donghoon’s shoulder.
Donghoon staggered, grunting in pain, while Mujin felt the first surge of victory.
“Dad? DAD? DAD!” a teenage girl’s voice cried out from inside the house. Mujin froze.
Dad?
That single word shattered his focus for two precious seconds — just enough for Donghoon to lock the door and break the key inside it with his good arm. Mujin smiled, unfazed, stepping closer.
“Do you think that’ll stop me? You really don’t know me at all, do you?”
“DAD! DAD, WHAT’S GOING ON? ARE YOU OKAY?”
Donghoon, still leaning against the wall in agony, managed to snatch up the gun he’d dropped. Mujin shot again — this time hitting his other shoulder.
“DAD!! DAD, PLEASE OPEN THE DOOR!”
“You really don’t,” Mujin sneered. “I came here expecting a good fight, but you’re already on your knees.”
“DAD, I’M SCARED! PLEASE OPEN THE DOOR!”
“JIWOO! GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR AND JUMP OUT THE WINDOW! RUN! NOW!”
Mujin laughed darkly. “Oh no, my friend. I can’t let her go when we’ve just met. No need to let the little girl run through the streets in the middle of the night.”
Donghoon looked up at him, eyes wide with pain and pleading.
“Please don’t hurt her,” he begged, voice shaking. “Do whatever you want to me, but let her go, Mujin. Please.”
“DAD! DAD, ANSWER ME, PLEASE!”
Mujin laughed again, louder this time. “What makes you think your last wish matters to me, traitor? Or your little girl’s?”
“DAD! DAD, ARE YOU OKAY? PLEASE ANSWER ME!”
The girl’s screams grew louder, echoing through the hall, each bang on the door cutting through Mujin’s chest like a ticking clock. He was running out of time — soon someone would hear her, or worse, she’d think to call the police. He leaned over Donghoon, voice dripping with venom.
“Don’t you worry, my friend. You know I’m not that brutal,” he said with a cruel smile. “I’ll play hide and seek with your little girl before I kill her. Maybe I’ll even give her ten seconds’ head start. What do you think?”
“DAD! DAD!”
“She has nothing to do with this! Please, let her live,” Donghoon pleaded, tears gleaming in his eyes. “She’s just a child. I know you wouldn’t hurt a kid, Mujin.”
“Not if the child in question is a traitor’s child,” Mujin replied mercilessly. “I can’t let her live after you deceived me all those years. Time to say goodbye, my old friend.”
“Please, just—”
“DAD! LET HIM GO!!”
“Jiwoo, RUN!”
With the last of his strength, Donghoon pulled a knife and hurled it toward Mujin. Mujin caught it between two fingers, twisted his wrist, and drove it straight into Donghoon’s heart.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered, watching the life fade from his eyes. “She’ll join you soon.”
“DAD! DAD! PLEASE LET HIM GO! PLEASE!”
“Jiwoo… I’m… sorry… for…” Donghoon’s voice broke into fragments that barely reached Mujin’s ears. Then his head slumped forward, his chest stilled, and his eyes went hollow.
Mujin crouched beside him, staring blankly at the lifeless face of the man he had once called brother — the man who had managed to open the locked doors of his heart, only to make him close them again.
Forever.
“Dad?”
The small, trembling voice from behind the locked door jolted him. Mujin stared at it for a long moment, thinking about how desperately Donghoon had tried to protect his daughter. He could have reached for his gun, could have fought back, but instead, he’d used his last strength to lock the door — to keep her safe. As if his life meant nothing compared to hers. As if he could sacrifice himself so easily for her.
Rage began to stir again, spreading through Mujin’s chest like wildfire.
Was she so important to you that you kept her a secret from me? Didn’t you trust me enough to tell me you had a daughter? Did you really think I would hurt her? Maybe I should now.
His only loyalty was for Donghoon for years. But Donghoon had not chosen to do the same. He acted like he was liyal but he was never on his side. He gave up everything to see his daughter — but he didn’t care for Mujin to even trust him.
What did I ever do to deserve your distrust? Didn’t I earn even a shred of loyalty?
Mujin’s breathing turned ragged. Foam gathered at the corners of his mouth as anger consumed him. Slowly, he rose to his feet and looked toward the peephole.