Rebel Seoul

by Axie Oh

  “The Director contacted me,” his message begins.

  “Your father,” I mutter as I push off the bed.

  Dim light peeks through the cracks in my window shade. I trip over a pile of stacked manhwa, wincing as the comic books topple to the floor. If my landlady wakes in the apartment below, she’ll kill me.

  “He wants us to meet him at his complex at the edge of the city. He’s received Koga’s reports on our progress and wants to discuss our future goals with each of us.”

  There’s a lull in the message as Alex picks up a mug, probably coffee. I pause the video and move into the washroom.

  After showering and brushing my teeth, I walk out of the washroom to where my phone hovers in wait. I resume the video.

  Alex puts down the mug. “He wants to meet us around five tonight before he has dinner with his mistress.”

  His mistress. I wonder how Alex feels about that. The Director and Alex’s mother, a diplomat residing in the American Neo States, are still legally married. The memory of the woman kneeling before the boy flashes through mind. I’ll come back for you, she’d said. Had the boy been Alex?

  “I’m thinking we should leave earlier from the Tower, maybe at 0800, have more time in the city before we have to report to him.”

  I reach for a pair of slacks, zip them up, and then look around the room for a shirt. One is flung across a chair, which I pull on as I move across the room to open the window. It’s dark out, and the cold air that rushes into my apartment smells like rain.

  Why does Alex want to “have time in the city”? It isn’t strange that Alex wants to hang out in the city — I’m sure it’s fun for rich people — but it is strange that he wants me to join him.

  My phone follows me across the room, determined to convey its message. “Oh, and one more thing,” Alex drawls. “We’re to bring Ama and Tera.”

  Abruptly, the message cuts off. The screen of my phone switches to the time. 0700. I stare blankly at the bright numbers before grabbing my phone out of the air and pocketing it.

  I’m out the door in another ten minutes. Adrenaline pumps in my veins as I sprint down the stairs. On the second landing, an apartment ajumma leaves her door with a basket of laundry. She startles when she sees me, and I reach out to catch the basket as it falls. I place it in her hands with a smile, bow, and continue down the stairs.

  My mind is racing. Is it just Alex, Tera, Ama, and me, or will there be a contingent of guards accompanying us? I wouldn’t put it past Alex to find a way for it to just be the four of us, either through bribes or using his father’s name as leverage. What would we even do in the city? Do I have any money?

  I’m so caught up in my thoughts that when I hear the scream, it doesn’t register for an entire block. I stop in the middle of the street, second-guessing myself. All night I’d had vivid dreams, replays of yesterday’s memories, a carryover from the psychic link with Ama.

  I turn and scan the street. Nothing out of the ordinary. There’s the local mart. A bored girl unstacks plastic chairs and tables outside it for the early morning workers who want to catch breakfast before their shifts. If there was a scream, she’d have heard it. Then again, she’s wearing headphones.

  It’s probably nothing. I turn and take several steps down the street. But what if it is something? Damn it. One sweep of the area, and I’ll leave. At least it’ll ease my conscience.

  I start to walk back the way I came, this time focusing on the sounds around me, the squeak of windows opening in apartment buildings, the sound of a drill somewhere to the north. The girl finishes unstacking the table and chairs and heads inside. The streets are empty. Maybe I did imagine it, or the sound came from someone’s early morning television program. There’s no way to know unless I start knocking on doors.

  Another scream. This time it’s unmistakable.

  I locate the origin of the sound in an alley across the street from the mart, a narrow one between two apartment buildings. I jog over.

  At the edge of the alley, I stop and let my eyes adjust to the gloom. In the shadows at the back of the alley, three men have trapped a kid — a child — against a chain-link fence. One man keeps watch — poorly, considering he hasn’t noticed my arrival — while two others tie up the kid and place a bag over his head.

  “Hey,” I say. “What’s going on here?”

  Of course I know what’s going on here. They’re kidnapping a kid. But I need to stall for time to think clearly. It’s too early in the morning for this.

  I don’t have a weapon on me. I leave my electro-gun with the armory every time I check out of the Tower.

  All three thugs turn to me at once. Each of them has a red circle pinned to their jackets. When did the syndicate resort to child abduction? Red Moon isn’t a classy establishment, and eighty percent illegal, but kidnapping is a new low, even for Park Taesung.

  I scan the thugs’ faces. I don’t recognize them from my time in the gang. They must be low-level grunts. I never made it past the fourth of the eight rings of my faction, but being best friends with the boss’s son brought me into contact with members all over the syndicate.

  Apparently I fail to impress them, because the largest of the three turns away. “None of your business.” He continues to tie up the child.

  A fight it is, then. Absurdly, the first thought that comes into my head is how messed up I’m going to look for my date. I make my way into the alley.

  “Don’t be a hero, kid.” This from the one thug who’s still watching me. He holds a long metal rod in his hand.

  I’m not a hero. And I’m not a kid, not compared to that child they’ve got gagged and bagged at the back of the alley. I move in quick.

  The thug with the rod takes a swing at my head. I dodge it, ducking at the last minute and keeping my head low. Using the momentum, I ram my shoulder into the guy behind him, slamming him into the wall. Another thug grabs me from behind, pinning my arms. I jerk my head backward, and it connects with his nose. There’s a loud crunch, and he loosens his grip.

  I’m fighting dirty. There’s blood on my white shirt. The kid’s cries through the gag egg me on. I fight like a dog, taking hits, shelling them out. One of the thugs tries to get me in the head with an iron rod, and I sidestep the blow, jabbing his nose with my elbow. Two broken noses. Not bad.

  “That’s enough,” the last one says, presumably the leader.

  There’s the high-tone sound of a highTech weapon as it powers on, electricity crackling in the small chamber. I should have known. They’re Red Moon gangsters. Park Taesung provides the best weapons for his men, grunts or no.

  I turn to face the barrel of an electro-gun. Behind me, the child’s cries turn to whimpers.

  “Maybe we’ll let you go,” the thug says, “if you get on your knees and say you’re sorry.”

  My pride has been beaten so many times that this request isn’t that bad. It won’t help the kid, though. I take a long breath. “I think you’re making a mistake.”

  “I think you’re the one who’s made the mistake.”

  “I work for Park Taesung. My name is Lee Jaewon.” If anything, this is even more of a blow to my pride, but it’s worth it if I can get the kid and myself out of this.

  The Red Moon gangsters tense up, exchange looks. “We’ve never heard of you.”

  “Call him.”

  “You think the boss of Red Moon would take a call from us?”

  “Fine, I’ll call him.” I pull out my phone, which miraculously has stayed intact during the fight.

  “No.” He snatches my phone out of my hand. “You might call some of your friends over here. We’re not falling for that trick.”

  “I don’t have friends.” At least not in the old city.

  A whistle pierces the alley, sharp and shrill. From above. I squint at the low rooftop. There’s a garden on one of them, two sa
d-looking potted plants sitting on the edge.

  “What was that?” the leader growls. His gun moves from me to the roof.

  A whir of rippling air sounds in the alley. Before the thug can look away, a sharp object slices the pocked skin along his cheek. It clatters to the ground at our feet.

  A penknife. I pick it up while the gangster’s attention is above. There’s a rising tiger carved around the curve of the marble handle. I trail my thumb down the Hangeul engraved vertically down the side. Lee Hyunwoo.

  An orb drops from above. I recognize it immediately — an EMP Tech Nullifier. It stops to hover a meter off the ground before spinning in place. I know from my Tech classes that it’s releasing an electromagnetic pulse, destabilizing the gangsters’ highTech guns. They will remain powered off for around three to four minutes — enough time for a quick change in the tide of a fight.

  I back against the chain-link fence as the first of Young’s crew enters the alley.

  Jinwoon walks calmly out of the nearest doorway, a metal bar against one shoulder, a backpack slung low over the other. Daeho careens through an open window, jumping feet first. “Ai — shhh,” he curses. “I lost my — ” The other half of a pair of shoes hits him in the back of his head, thrown from someone inside the building. “Ya!” Daeho yells, rubbing his head before beaming down at his sneaker. “There you are!” He leans against the wall, slipping it on.

  Jinwoon breaks the nose of the lead thug with the edge of his metal rod, giving us three-for-three on broken noses. The man drops unconscious to the ground, his sprawled body causing the other two thugs to trip over him. Daeho backs them against the wall, lazily wielding a lowTech gun. Jinwoon opens his backpack and takes out a length of rope. He ties up the thugs as Daeho provides somewhat disparaging commentary from the sidelines.

  With that settled, I turn to the kid, untie the ropes around his wrist, and pull back the canvas bag.

  A girl looks up at me with tears in her eyes. She has ribbons in her hair. She can’t be much older than six.

  “Are you all right?” I check her for any injuries, but other than her reddened wrists, she appears unhurt. She doesn’t respond, just looks at me, lips trembling, cheeks red and splotchy.

  “Jaewon-ah,” a familiar voice says from the doorway, “she’s just scared.”

  Young emerges into the light of the alley. “Annyeong,” he says, crouching by the girl so he’s at eye level with her. “Can you tell oppa if you’re hurt anywhere?” He’s referring to himself as an older brother. Young was always good with kids.

  She blinks at him, staring at his snapback. A patch of a golden crown is sewn onto the fabric.

  “Do you like it?” He takes the hat off and places it on her head. “It’s yours. A crown fit for a princess.” He motions Jinwoon forward. “Jinwoon oppa will bring you home. He’s very strong. He can carry you, if you’d like.”

  The girl nods again, raising her arms. Jinwoon easily lifts her from the ground. He doesn’t speak to her, but she must feel safe with him, because she snuggles close against his neck.

  I turn to see Jinwoon’s and Daeho’s work. They’ve gagged and blindfolded all the thugs.

  “Here.” Daeho hands me back my phone.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Young says, and Daeho and I follow him out of the alley. We head over to the mart where the girl had been setting up tables earlier. Young and I take seats on the plastic chairs while Daeho heads inside. I groan and lean back. I should probably send Alex a text to let him know I’ll be late.

  “Haven’t seen you in a while,” Young begins.

  “What were you doing around here?”

  “We were following them.”

  Daeho emerges from the mart and pulls up a chair. He’s purchased a roll of mediTape, which he hands over to me.

  “Thanks.” I unroll it and begin to wrap my bruises.

  Apparently Daeho also purchased himself a rice ball, because he pulls one out of a plastic bag and eats it.

  “If you’re following members of Red Moon,” I say, “then you know why they’re abducting kids.”

  “Abducting girls.”

  I frown. “What do you mean?”

  “They’re only kidnapping girls, ages five to eight. Usually from single-parent families, and all from Old Seoul.”

  I lean forward. “Since when? Why?”

  “For a long time now, but in more frequent numbers this past month. The girls disappear, but they don’t show up in any prostitution rings, nor do they get transported overseas. They simply disappear. It’s just like . . .” He hesitates, blinking too fast, nervous.

  “What?”

  “It’s the same thing your father was investigating ten years ago. I think it might be happening again.”

  Young thinks it’s the mention of my father that would upset me, and it does to a degree, but that’s not what causes my heart to drop. The Amaterasu Project officially started around fifty years ago. Koga said they hadn’t had a successful completion, not until Tera and Ama, and it’s their success as prototypes which catapulted the project into a second stage: implementation. To put into use the weapons the project created. It’s the reason the board invited Alex, Sela, and me into the Tower, a team to usher the project into a new era of Enhanced soldiers. But what if the first stage is an ongoing process — what if they’re stealing girls from Old Seoul to create more soldiers like Ama and Tera?

  Young watches me battle with my thoughts. “Do you know something? Does it have to do with your assignment in the Tower?”

  He can read me so well. “Whatever’s happening with Red Moon,” I say, “don’t get involved. Save the girls if you can. But don’t go looking into this more than you have. You’ll only get yourself killed.”

  I don’t believe this, but it’s something Young would expect me to say. After all, my father was investigating the disap­pearances before he died. And if Young can believe anything, he can believe that I do care for him. He betrayed me, but he was once my closest friend. We share so many memories that are good, like playing basketball in the yard, that remain untarnished by time or distance or betrayal.

  “Jaewon-ah . . .”

  “I have to go.” I stand and head back in the direction of my apartment. I take out my phone to send a quick message to Alex.

  “Hey, Lee Jaewon, wait up.”

  I turn to see Daeho running to catch up.

  I remember that night I’d visited Young on his turf, and Jinwoon had given me a talk. I brace myself for another. Instead, Daeho hands me a rice ball.

  “Thanks.”

  “I warmed it up in the microwave. I had two, but I gave you the one with more seasoning.”

  “Uh, thanks.”

  “Don’t worry. Jinwoon and I will look after Young, since you can’t right now.”

  I stare at him with suspicion. Daeho’s so friendly, I can’t tell if he’s mocking me or not. “It’s not about timing.”

  “No,” he says, adamantly cheerful. “It’s about forgiveness. You’re not ready to forgive him, just like you’re not ready to forgive your father or yourself.”

  “Forgive myself for what?”

  “For not forgiving them.”

  “Jeon Daeho, please don’t speak to me anymore.”

  He backs away with a grin. “See you later, hyeong!”

  For some reason, I feel like I’ve just been given another talk. I shake my head. God, Young has a pair of meddling old ajummas for gang brothers. Still, I’m glad for them. Daeho’s right; I can’t be there for Young, and he needs people if he’s involving himself in anything dangerous.

  A ping on my phone signals a message. Alex. Meet us at Gangnam Station East Exit in an hour. We’ll pick you up.

  We? I hold back from asking if it’ll just be Tera, Ama, Alex, and me, no guards. If Alex is baiting me on purpose, I’m going to m
urder him.

  If this does end up being a date, I don’t want to look like I’ve just been beaten up.

  20

  Double Date

  “You look like you’ve just been beaten up,” Tera greets me when I climb into Alex’s car outside the station.

  I scowl at her, except she’s not the one who can read minds.

  “No, that’s me!” Ama says. The girls are seated together on the stretch part of the car, while Alex sprawls on the two-seater. I move to the back and squeeze in next to Tera.

  I went home and changed my clothing after the fight, and now I wear a gray sweater and black pants. Also a beanie and scarf, the latter of which I begin to unwrap around my neck.

  “Jaewon,” Tera says. I hold still as she drifts her cool fingers over my cut lip. “Who did this to you?”

  “Just some thugs.”

  Her hand lowers. “Where?”

  “Why? Are you going to go after them?”

  “I could.”

  Her expression is serious as she waits for me to name the location of my attackers. Maybe I’m a sadist, because I find the idea of her avenging me really hot. “I’d like to see that, but it’s all right. They got what they deserved.” From Young and his crew more than from myself, but she doesn’t need to know that.

  “Why were you fighting?” Alex asks. He’s tapping his finger against his knee, a nervous habit he usually shakes with a cigarette, but for some reason he isn’t smoking.

  “I don’t know.”

  All three of them stare at me in disbelief.

  “You don’t know why you got into a fight?” Tera asks.

  I consider telling them about the kidnappings, but I’m still unsure if it has anything to do with the project. I need to get more info, either from Park Taesung, or by investigating the project in the Tower myself.

  I quickly change the subject. “How was this possible?” I gesture vaguely at everyone in the car, the fact that we’re all together, alone, outside the Tower.

  Alex leans forward and lightly taps Ama’s ankle. She moves her legs, and he grabs four bottles of water from a cold-storage case beneath the seat. He hands one to each of us, then flips the cap on his bottle and takes a long pull of water.