"Jae-O just doesn't get it," I muttered, shaking my head as I watched the man I called my boss. He was lounging on the sofa, still talking to Inkang, who, to my annoyance, seemed to be enjoying the whole conversation.
"What about you, Inkang? Are you the type of person to fall in love at first sight?" Jae-O's voice was smooth, a little too saccharine for my liking.
Inkang smiled, a little sheepishly. "I used to be... But nowadays, I tend to open my heart slowly to those that are kindhearted."
Kindhearted? I scoffed internally. What a load of BS. I glanced down at the paper in my hand, a piece of drawing, simple and hastily sketched, but it showed a girl with long hair, lying down, titled a little too far back for my comfort.
"What are you like when you're on a date?" Jae-O pressed on, leaning forward slightly.
"I'm not sure! I think I'd love it if I could meet someone who can take the lead, haha." Inkang finished with a bright laugh.
"Damn, he's a loser," the older man who was sitting next to Inkang grumbled, a sour look on his face. "I used to be pretty handsome when I was young. But look at me now. Time doesn't stop for anyone."
I couldn't help but smile faintly, a private, knowing twitch of my lips. He's right about that. I looked at the drawing again. It was the only thing that had ever mattered to me.
"...? What have you been smiling at this whole time, Jae-O?" The older man's sudden question snapped me out of my reverie.
I quickly composed my face. "I smile sometimes. So what?" I retorted, a little too defensively.
He raised an eyebrow, a hint of suspicion in his eyes. "Do you still carry that picture around in your wallet?"
I bristled. "You refused to show it to me for so long while we were in jail that I thought it was something impressive." The older man scoffed, not quite believing me.
"Why're you making such a big deal out of some broomstick you drew? Jeez."
My blood ran cold. I shot up, anger flaring hotter than a wildfire. "Stop calling her a broomstick! How is this a broomstick?!" I yelled, holding up the drawing, the girl's innocent face mocking me with every inch of the paper. The older man looked utterly unmoved.
"HEY! That's not very nice. Plus, this drawing is what brought us close. If it weren't for this, how would you have ever ended up with a smart employee such as myself?" I pleaded, trying to appeal to his vanity, but it didn't work.
He held up a brown, sealed envelope. "You're so full of yourself. Go deliver this, will you?"
I took the envelope, a familiar annoyance settling in. "You always send me out for deliveries when you're about to lose a fight." I complained, turning on my heel.
BZZZ. My phone vibrated with a message. I pulled it out. Ajin Baek.
You said I could use you, right? the text read.
I felt a chill despite the warmth of the room. It was true. I had offered. Now she was calling in the favor. I tucked my phone away, looking down at the envelope.
"This is Junseo's address..."
A cold premonition settled in my gut. Whatever this delivery was, it wasn't a good one.
"Hey, I'm gonna call it a day after I deliver this." I called out, not waiting for a reply as I walked out the door. The time had finally come.
"You always send me out for deliveries when you're about to lose a fight," I grumbled as I held the sealed, brown envelope. The buzz of my phone, the name Ajin Baek glowing on the screen with her demanding text—You said I could use you, right?—still echoed in my mind. The package was addressed to Junseo's address. I had no idea what was inside, but I knew it had to be a piece in her meticulous game.
"Hey, I'm gonna call it a day after I deliver this, okay?" I called back over my shoulder as I hurried toward the door.
"What? Why?" my boss demanded, his voice full of disbelief and irritation.
I gave the door a hard shove, the sound of the SWING echoing slightly. "I'VE GOT TO TAKE CARE OF SOMETHING!!" I shouted, already halfway out. It wasn't a lie. I had to take care of Ajin's request, whatever it cost me.
I quickly mounted my motorcycle, the bike roaring to life. The engine throbbed with raw power: VROOOOOM. I was speeding through the streets, the envelope tucked securely inside my jacket, the high-rise buildings of "Village" flashing past my eyes as I approached Junseo's complex.
Then, a sudden, bright red car pulled out right in front of me without warning. I slammed on the brakes, the tires screaming in protest: SCREEEEEECH.
CRASH!
My front wheel slammed into the car's side, the impact rattling my bones. I came to a jarring stop, the air knocked from my lungs. The driver, a tall man in a dark coat, got out, looking bewildered. "?" he mouthed, staring at the crumpled side mirror and the faint cracks in the car's body.
"BEEP BEEP," a faint sound echoed as the driver held his hand out toward me, signaling for me to back up.
I swung my leg off the bike and stood, adjusting my jacket. I had to deliver the package. I didn't have time for this.
"Sorry, dude," I said, trying to sound genuinely apologetic, though a part of me felt a twisted satisfaction at the minor damage. "Looks like I busted up your side mirror."
"Why would you come in so close like that?" the driver snapped back, visibly angry, gesturing at my motorcycle which was nearly touching his car.
"Ugh, I'm going to be late," I muttered under my breath, my gaze fixed on the apartment complex. The driver's anger was palpable, but I just shrugged.
"The fact that neither of us were hurt is the most important thing, though... isn't it?" I said, giving him a tight, chilling smile that didn't reach my eyes. I didn't wait for his reply. I just left the bike, the crumpled envelope still in my hand, and walked quickly toward the building.
I reached the correct floor, the atmosphere silent and sterile. DING DONG. DING DONG. I pressed the buzzer for Junseo's apartment, then quickly placed the sealed, brown package on the ground right in front of the door. I stared at the door for a moment, my eye wide and watchful, before turning and leaving, the mission complete. Ajin had used me, and now the consequence was out of my hands.
The delivery is done, but the conflict with the car driver is unresolved, and Junseo hasn't opened the package yet. Would you like to see a scene that follows up on the driver or one that focuses on Junseo receiving the envelope?
"Excuse me, shouldn't you be apologizing first—?" the driver demanded, his face tight with indignation and his eyes wide from the shock of the CRASH. He looked like he was about to burst, running his hand over his cracked side mirror.
I pulled my hands from my pockets and spread them in a gesture of false calm. "I did. I said I was sorry. Didn't you hear? Or are all celebrities this prickly?"
My casual insult struck a nerve, making his face darken. He was the focus now, not my rushed delivery. He was the one I needed to distract.
What the hell is wrong with this guy...? I could see the question in his widening eyes, but he quickly tried to take control of the situation, the celebrity professionalism kicking in.
"Look, it was my fault, okay? Let me give you my insurance information. Can I borrow your phone?" I asked, putting on a worried, sheepish expression.
"My phone? Why?" he asked, suspicious again.
"I left mine at home," I lied smoothly. "I just need to make a quick call and I'll give it right back."
He looked at me, then at the damage to his expensive car, then back at me. He was clearly torn between wanting to settle the accident immediately and not wanting to hand over his personal property to a stranger who had just smirked at him after hitting his car.
"Ugh, seriously?" he sighed, clearly deciding that giving me the phone was the quickest way to get my insurance details and be done with me. "HERE." He shoved the phone into my hand.
I looked down at the device, a cold, calculating look in my eye. This was all I needed. I didn't care about the insurance.
I held his phone tight, gazing at the man who was now at my mercy for a few precious minutes. Ajin asked me to use him.
"I don't care how you do it, but just waste as much of his time as possible... so Inkang arrives late..."
Ajin's words, sent in a message minutes ago, played in my head. This wasn't about Junseo. It was about Inkang. The package to Junseo was just the bait. My boss's earlier comments about Inkang's "kindhearted" nature and my immediate realization that I had a smart employee were all pieces of this larger, dark puzzle.
I had successfully derailed Inkang's arrival. I leaned in toward the famous driver, a shadow passing over my face, and whispered a cryptic message that would take him hours to process.
Junseo's Discovery
Up in his high-rise apartment, Junseo heard the double ring of the doorbell. DING DONG. DING DONG.
He approached the door cautiously, looking through the peephole. No one. He opened the door to an empty hallway, the sterile grey carpet stretching out before him. Yet, directly on the floor, perfectly centered on his doormat, was a single, sealed, brown envelope.
He knelt, his hand hovering over the anonymous package. A deep sense of foreboding settled over him. He knew this couldn't be a coincidence. He had too many dangerous connections, and one of them was undoubtedly in play.
He picked it up. It was addressed to him, his name written in a delicate, elegant script he recognized instantly, a script that promised both deep connection and utter destruction. He broke the seal with a sharp tear, his knuckles white.
Inside, there was a single photograph—a picture of Ajin Baek and him from years ago—and a small, typewritten note.
The note simply read: "He's doing what he thinks is right, but you and I know better. He can't save you from yourself, and he certainly can't save me from him. Look closely. It's time to choose. This is your last chance to protect what is truly yours."
Junseo stared at the note, then at the photo, then back at the envelope's original address. It was from Jae-O... or so it seemed. He crumpled the paper, his mind racing. He knew this was a calculated move, a desperate plea, or perhaps a master plan from the one person whose sanity he could never truly gauge.
The message was clear: a choice was being forced. The game had just escalated, and now Junseo was holding the newest piece.
Inkang pov
My job was done. I had delivered the package and, more importantly, I had created the necessary delay. I watched as the celebrity driver—the man named Inkang—stood fuming by his crumpled side mirror, his phone still in my hand.
"Look, I told you I left mine at home," I insisted, trying to keep a level tone despite the tight feeling in my chest. "I just need to make a quick call and I'll give it right back."
Inkang finally gave in, his patience worn thin. "UGH, seriously? HERE." He shoved the phone at me.
I gripped the phone, a chilling smile playing on my lips. This is for Ajin. My mind echoed her instructions: "I don't care how you do it, but just waste as much of his time as possible... so Inkang arrives late..."
I glanced around the parking lot, then back at Inkang, who was distracted by the damage. I faked a call, muttering a confusing lie about insurance, before casually letting the phone SLIP from my hand. It skittered across the pavement and vanished down the grate of a nearby storm drain.
"Oops," I said, my voice utterly devoid of remorse. "Looks like you'll need a new one. The fact that neither of us were hurt is the most important thing, though... isn't it?" I gave him a final, unsettling grin before walking away, leaving my motorcycle and the fuming celebrity behind.
I could hear him yelling in the distance as I walked toward the main road, but I didn't care.
Whatever this may be, I'm helping Ajin. As long as it's to help her, I'm not going to ask any questions and do what she wants me to do. My loyalty was a dark, unwavering beacon in my mind. She was the one who had seen my drawing, my "broomstick," and yet chose to use me, to trust me with her twisted plans. That was enough.
I mounted my bike, which I had parked down the street, and pulled out into the night. VROOOOOM.
The Dinner Date
Meanwhile, at JJ's RESTAURANT, Ajin Baek sat alone at a circular table. She looked poised and beautiful, sipping water, her expression a careful mask of disappointment.
A waiter approached her table, his face apologetic. "WE'RE SO SORRY, BUT... WE ARE CLOSING SOON..."
Ajin offered the waiter a sympathetic, radiant smile—the kind that had won her countless awards. "Oh, dear. It looks like my friend isn't going to make it tonight."
She turned her gaze to the waiter, her eyes wide and innocent. "COULD YOU PLEASE HELP ME PACKAGE THE DISHES I ORDERED AHEAD OF TIME?"
The waiter, like everyone else, was instantly charmed. "YES, OF COURSE." He couldn't refuse the famous, beautiful actress.
Ajin waited until he was gone, then let the smile drop. She knew Inkang wasn't going to make it. Her plan was perfect. She was meant to be meeting Inkang, the man who was now standing frustrated by his broken-down car, his phone at the bottom of a drain. She had ensured he would miss this meeting, creating a narrative of unreliability and disappointment that would serve her later.
Everything was in motion. Junseo had the package. Inkang was delayed. The final curtain was about to rise.
The pieces are set: Junseo has the note, Inkang is stranded, and Ajin is enacting the final phase of her plan. What do you want to explore next: Junseo's reaction to the note, or what Ajin does after leaving the restaurant?
I sped away on my bike, the engine's roar (VROOOOOM) echoing the turmoil in my mind. I knew Inkang was stranded without a phone, his car damaged, and his dinner date with Ajin ruined. I didn't regret it. "WHATEVER THIS MAY BE, I'M HELPING AJIN. AS LONG AS IT'S TO HELP HER, I'M NOT GOING TO ASK ANY QUESTIONS AND DO WHAT SHE WANTS ME TO DO."
Meanwhile, Inkang, the celebrity driver, was now in the back of a taxi, fuming. "SIR, I'M REALLY SORRY, BUT COULD YOU PLEASE DRIVE A LITTLE FASTER?" he pleaded with the driver.
"JEEZ, STOP RUSHING ME, WILL YOU?" the driver retorted, irritated.
Inkang slumped back in his seat, rubbing his temples. NEVER IN MY LIFE HAVE I EVER RUN INTO SOMEONE THAT SHAMELESS... HE ATE UP SO MUCH OF MY TIME!! The thought of his shattered phone made his fists clench. IF ONLY HE HADN'T DROPPED MY PHONE...
The taxi finally pulled up outside of the restaurant. The tires screeched to a halt (SCREECH), but the place was dark. "SHE PROBABLY WENT HOME. ANYONE WOULD, IF THEY HAD BEEN STOOD UP FOR HOURS LIKE THIS..." Inkang's heart sank, confirming his worst fear.
He paid the taxi driver. "THANK YOU, SIR." He turned to leave, devastated, when he saw a familiar figure.
"INKANG...? TURN," a voice said.
He spun around. Ajin.
Ajin's Performance
She stood waiting, cloaked in a warm coat and scarf, looking like a painting of concerned devotion.
"AJIN...! WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE? WERE YOU WAITING FOR ME THIS WHOLE TIME?!" he stammered, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten, replaced by a wave of guilt and astonishment.
"WHY WERE YOU SO LATE?" she asked, her voice soft and laced with worry, but with a slight, calculated edge of hurt.
"DO YOU KNOW HOW WORRIED I'VE BEEN? I COULDN'T EVEN REACH YOU! HOW COULD I LEAVE? I WANTED TO WAIT HERE, JUST IN CASE," he rushed to explain, his words tumbling out. "I'M SO SORRY. I GOT INTO A SMALL ACCIDENT ON MY WAY HERE... MY PHONE SLIPPED INTO THE STORM DRAIN AND I COULDN'T REMEMBER YOUR NUMBER..."
She took a step closer, her expression shifting to one of genuine concern. "MY GOSH, INKANG! YOU'RE NOT DRESSED FOR THIS WEATHER AT ALL! AREN'T YOU COLD?" She reached out and took his hand (GRAB), her touch sending a warmth through him that had nothing to do with the air temperature.
"IT'S SO COLD OUTSIDE! WHY DIDN'T YOU WAIT IN YOUR CAR?" she chastised gently.
"I WAS AFRAID WE'D MISS EACH OTHER. HONESTLY, I'M JUST GLAD YOU'RE SAFE," he replied, his eyes reflecting pure relief. He was already falling for her performance, believing her worry was real, and not part of the plan I had helped enact.
"YOU HAVEN'T HAD ANYTHING TO EAT YET, RIGHT?" she asked, her hands moving to adjust the scarf around his neck, a gesture of intimacy she hadn't earned. "I didn't want to eat without you, so I got some food wrapped up... TO BRING TO GRANDMA."
She then held up a bag of food. "OH, ACTUALLY, WHY DON'T YOU BRING IT TO HER? SHE'LL BE ELATED..."
Inkang looked at her, his eyes shining with adoration. He saw only a kindhearted woman who had waited for hours in the cold, whose first thought was for her grandmother and for him. He was completely blind to the sociopath manipulating him.
Ajin had successfully used me to confirm Inkang's "kindhearted" nature by setting a trap, and now she had him completely under her spell. The game continued, and I was her shadow.
The plan was working perfectly. Inkang had failed to make his dinner, was without a phone, and was now wrapped up in Ajin's manufactured kindness.
"IT'S FREEZING! WHY DON'T YOU GET IN? I'LL DRIVE YOU HOME," Ajin insisted, opening the car door for him, her eyes wide with false worry. Inkang, utterly charmed and exhausted, gratefully accepted.
As we drove away from the darkened restaurant, the engine humming (VROOOOOM), Inkang sighed with relief.
"You're going to head to the apartment in YeondU DISTRICT, right?" Ajin asked, navigating the evening traffic.
"Yeah, that way, I can drop off the food you got for grandma... and borrow a phone to make a few calls about that accident today," Inkang replied, still visibly shaken by my earlier stunt.
He seemed completely focused on her, and I could tell the plan was working. He was already sharing intimate details about himself, something Ajin clearly preyed upon.
"MY GRANDMA REALLY LIKES YOU," he said with a genuine, trusting smile. "THIS IS A SECRET, BUT SHE TOLD ME THAT WHEN MY MOM WAS PREGNANT WITH MY LITTLE BROTHER, SHE SECRETLY HOPED THAT IT WOULD BE A GIRL." He paused, a gentle laugh in his voice. "MY DAD WAS HER ONLY CHILD, AND EVEN HER TWO GRANDKIDS WERE BOTH BOYS, SO I THINK SHE WAS GETTING TIRED OF ALL THE MEN IN THE HOUSE".
Ajin listened with rapt attention, a subtle smirk playing on her lips, her eyes gleaming with the thrill of gathering leverage. "HAHA!" she chuckled softly.
Inkang leaned back, basking in her warmth and attention. "THAT'S WHY MY GRANDMA ABSOLUTELY ADORED MY MOM. SHE'D CALL HER DAUGHTER... AND THE TWO OF THEM WOULD GO AROUND TOWN HOLDING EACH OTHERS' HANDS. I REMEMBER THAT AS IF IT WERE YESTERDAY".
Ajin nodded, her expression warm. She knew exactly how to make him feel seen and understood.
The Final Manipulation
They pulled up outside the apartment. Inkang's heart was thumping with a mixture of emotion (BA-BUMP BA-BUMP).
"You must be exhausted after the day you've had. Go on and get some rest," Ajin said, turning off the car.
"Aww, I wanted to hear more of your stories. I wish we hadn't gotten here so fast. ARE YOU JUST GOING TO HEAD HOME...?" he asked, trying to prolong the evening.
"I should. It's past grandma's bed time, and I don't want to be rude and keep her up," she answered.
Inkang's face fell. "YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO DO THAT... THAT MAKES ME FEEL EVEN WORSE..." he confessed, feeling guilty for monopolizing her time. "WOULD YOU STILL LIKE TO GO SOMEWHERE FOR DINNER? MY HEART FEELS..." His gaze dropped. "LET'S GO ANOTHER TIME. IT'S ALREADY SO LATE".
Ajin knew she had him exactly where she wanted him—guilty and indebted.
"PLEASE, I'D FEEL TERRIBLE IF I LET YOU GO HOME LIKE THIS TONIGHT. WHY DON'T YOU COME UP FOR A CUP OF TEA?" she asked, her voice soft and persuasive, leaning in slightly.
Inkang hesitated. "STILL..." he murmured.
"PLEASE? IF YOU LEAVE LIKE THIS, I WON'T BE ABLE TO SLEEP COMFORTABLY." She looked at him with an expression of such fragile vulnerability that he couldn't refuse. CAN'T SLEEP COMFORTABLY...? he thought, completely sold on her distress.
The last of his defenses crumbled. She had played the compassionate woman perfectly. "PFFFT. OKAY, FINE... I'LL COME UP FOR SOME TEA".
Ajin smiled, a genuine, victorious smile this time, knowing her long-term seduction of Inkang was secured. I knew then that Ajin's latest weapon—Inkang's "kindhearted" nature—was now completely in her control

The elevator counter flipped from '6' to '7'. DING.
The metal box was small, confining, amplifying the small, nervous sounds of Inkang's breathing. He stood beside me, oblivious to the fact that he was sharing a small space with something entirely different from himself. He thought I was just a girl who wanted tea.
I watched the red digital number change, my true focus not on the destination, but on the boy himself. He was the perfect mark: kind, predictable, and burdened by a useless conscience. He couldn't sleep comfortably if he thought he'd been a poor host. It was a flaw I exploited effortlessly.
I didn't need tea. I needed his silence and his apartment's proximity to the "accident."
The air was thick with the scent of his coat, the fabric of his human life. I leaned into him then, letting the mask slip into one final, overwhelming act of human frailty. My arms went around his neck, my body pressing close. The only movement was the soft, low sound of the elevator mechanism: WHIRRRR.
I kissed him. Hard.
It wasn't affection. It was a chemical surge, a biological imperative to overwhelm his system, to overload the senses of my target just before the final execution. His arms went around my waist instantly, a purely reflexive human response. He was a creature of impulse, of feeling, of limited time.
For him, this was a spontaneous moment of connection, maybe relief, maybe just heat in the cold building. For me, it was a data point: target neutralized for immediate extraction.
The kiss was the full stop. It confirmed his deep, fatal trust. And in that second of shared, synthetic intimacy, I knew. His life was now fully in my hands, a thread I could snip whenever I chose.
The elevator stopped. The lights flickered. We had arrived.
Now the actual work begins.