Ryu Jong-Soo walked along the street in Seoul, South Korea. Rain poured and thunder rumbled through the dark and crowded streets. Bright skyscrapers reached to the sky. Neon lights overcrowded the area. The frigid storm wind sliced at his face. It almost felt like his beard would fly off in the wind. He kept his raincoat over his head tightly. He reached to his waist, feeling his holstered pistol.
Ryu stopped for a moment and stared at a building down the street. A sign displaying Hwarang Club. It glistened in lightning along with three guards outside the door. Strange looking men and woman surrounded the building in a line, awaiting entrance. He gritted his teeth then took a deep breath. Every step he took, lightning cracked through the sky and rumbled the earth beneath his feet. It was his time. It was his moment. Ryu walked to the building and got in line like everyone else. But he was not like everyone else, not at all. With every second that passed the more he gritted his teeth, the more angry he was, the more crazed he got. He began to pace in his spot in line.
"Are you okay?" Someone asked.
No answer. Ryu ran his hands through his long, thick hair under his rain coat. Every moment he waited, he began seeing images of his mother's corpse on that one fateful night he unfortunately remembered so well. Blood, bullet wounds. He balled up his fists and he finally reached the front door.
"ID?" One of the guards asked.
Ryu gave it to him. He was in. The club from where he entered was mostly just catwalks overlooking the life of the party below. There was a small bar with a few seats in the corner. Only one person sat there. Collective bass from the music and lightning cascaded through the floor and spread like wild fire. Ryu walked over to the bar and ordered a drink, sitting down. He sipped his drink next to the middle aged man next to him. The man looked over, looking at his pistol.
"What do you plan to do with that?" He asked.
He stared at the man.
"Some things aren't worth dying for, you know?"
"Then what about honor?" Ryu asked.
"Do you want to die for honor or do you want to enforce it? That thing may be the difference between those two scenarios," He gestured to the gun. "Think on that."
The man got up and walked away. Ryu sat in thought, staring at the drinks on shelves behind the bartender. Eventually he did too. He threw off his raincoat, he wouldn't be needing it. Guards watched him walk to the nearest elevator. They turned their head to one another, talking amongst themselves. He entered the elevator with a few girls. They talked and talked. He wished that they'd shut up. The elevator opened just as slowly as it went up.
"Do we know you?" The girls asked.
"No, but you will."
As he imagined, they made their departure from him quickly. Blinded by rage, he had no remorse. And upon nearing the door to the penthouse the girls entered, he contemplated. The pistol was already in his hand. He kept a tight grip on it. Then with deep screech, threw the gun into a pot and entered. The same was happening in the penthouse as down below in the club. Insufferable partying. He scanned the party closely. Over and over to find nothing.
Ryu walked around the place aimlessly, opening every door, no matter the sounds or cries coming from the room to not do so.
"Hey, you can't do that!" Some said.
"Stop!" Another said.
A man approached, trying to stop Ryu. He punched the man in the face and his body slammed into the floor violently. Finally, he found a room of his interest and walked in slowly.
He gently closed the door behind him. It was quieter in there. A collection of old Hwarang history items and family trees sat on tables throughout the massive wall. Two swords stood out to him as they shined and glistened in the display lights. He traced the family tree on the wall, finding himself and his brother. There were old Hwarang armors displayed on each side of the giant family tree on the wall. Flowers knights, the fighters of Korea, and now, South Korea. What honor there had been before did not remain in Ryu Jong-Soo's eyes. Something so anciently perfect and honorable, turned into a sick and twisted system of death and destruction. Of course his involvement in this assassination was unethical and definitely not honorable. But why have decency when the world is made up of an non-decent population? Why not destroy those who are terrible with something that benefits oneself? Why should Ryu not do what is best for his revenge, his vengeance, his newly made peace of mind resulting from this eventual action? Nothing would stop him he decided. He walked out of the room and out of the penthouse for a moment and took the gun that he had thrown earlier from the pot. He entered once again and went back to the room.
Ryu searched the rooms in the massive tribute hallway to find no one. There was a large balcony with a helipad on it at the end of the hallway. He waited in one of the rooms, going down to his knees. He breathed slowly and thought about his mother again. But not the blood. Not the gunshots or the wounds. He just thought about their traditions. His practice with her. She was a very skilled fighter, he remembered. She was trained by her father. And of course, his father did not have the same fate, at least not yet. One exercise he remembered was not physical, but rather mental. Preparation by calming the mind. Meditation. He wasn't sure whether this was a Hwarang battle tactic or if it was just hers, but either way, it worked.
Soon enough Ryu heard a noise that snapped him out of his trance. Women laughing outside, accompanying one man's laughter. The man he wanted to kill. The man he probably should have used the gun on. The man that made him realize a sword would be better to give him a slow and painful death. Ryu let the man keep walking to party a little before his death. A sweet moment is made bitter through terror. He exited the room a few moments later in an angry succession. He took one blade off the wall. He practically ran to the huge balcony where there his brother stood with the girls stripping in front of him. He swung the blade on the wall next to the entrance, making a horrible, metallic sound that echoed. The women screamed, picked up there clothes and ran off.
"Ryu Jong-Soo?" His brother asked.
"Sin Mal-Chin!" Ryu shouted in rage.
It began to rain again, thunder and lightning booming and swaying above the balcony.
"You're still angry over all of this?! Over a woman?"
"A woman? She was our mother! How dare you call her just a woman after killing her?!"
Sin Mal-Chin chuckled and took a sword of his own from behind a couch sitting on the balcony.
"Father told me to do it, but truth be told... I liked it."
Ryu breathed in deep, closing his mind to Sin's gibberish. "Are you deaf? I liked it!"
He continued to stare.
"You manage anger better now... let's see if you manage a blade just as well."
Sin Mal-Chin pursued, running at Ryu Joon-Soo. One slice, two slices. Clinging of blades. One heart racing. The other calm. Another cling, then blood. One kick and a thud.
Sin Mal-Chin was left on the ground in a growing pool of his own blood. The rain mixed with the red liquid, slowly attempting to wash it away. But nothing can stop a man like this from bleeding.
"My ancestors would disown you. And I disown you now," Ryu said.
"Father will disown you."
"Honor comes with a price."
Ryu Jong-Soo dropped the sword with a cling on the concrete balcony with a final boom of thunder. The skies quieted and calmed as he walked away from his brother, still bleeding and screaming for help. But there was none.
Okuduğunuz için teşekkürler!
Ziyaretçilerimize Reklamlar göstererek Inkspired’ı ücretsiz tutabiliriz. Lütfen AdBlocker’ı beyaz listeye ekleyerek veya devre dışı bırakarak bizi destekleyin.
Bunu yaptıktan sonra, Inkspired’i normal şekilde kullanmaya devam etmek için lütfen web sitesini yeniden yükleyin..