Dongcheon's Dagger [Choi Mujin x Reader]

CONTACT [접촉]

하리항부두 부산시 (Harihang Pier, Busan), 7PM

An unusually gentle breeze blew across the harbour basin, a stark contrast to the harsh gusts that would come in from the open waters on any other regular day. The night had already settled like a heavy blanket, only the city's lights reflecting in the mellow waves and the occasional lights of a fishing trawler passing through.

The shuffle of a multitude of shoes on concrete could be heard as you snuck along a wall cloaked in shadow, avoiding the floodlights at all costs. You felt as if you were carrying the weight of the world in your pocket, clutching the fabric in one of your hands securely while the other felt along the corrugated iron behind you. In fact, the object was so small you could have easily swallowed it, a miniature glass vial containing what you suspected was a more concentrated version of the other narcotic that you had slid into your bag. No matter the contents, you were in fact not too keen on testing it out, so the closest safe space was the inner pocket of your canvas jacket. Surely it was an important little thing, judging by the magnitude of shouts erupting from within the building behind you at the discovery of your robbery.

What you did not realize is that you had angered not only one gang, but two - the two largest rival gangs in Korea. Way to go with your small excursion to procure some more stock for your own buyers. But who could blame you when they had just left the sample in its very important looking case lying around in a barely secured room. You guessed they didn't count on a small criminal such as yourself to insert herself into their rivalry.

It was a shame anyway that you had to go out to steal stock from others. The gang you had been involved with since your life had taken a turn for the worse was steadily deteriorating. Pressure from bigger gangs had driven your own men to go awry, some had even tried selling you out behind your back. A reputation for harsh punishment soon followed you around since in a fit of rage you had gone after them instead, killing the ones that had betrayed you and disciplining the rest by relieving them of their right pinky finger, leaving the bastards to bleed.

A harsh change to the life you used to lead, an intact and happy family broken by the mysterious death of your father, followed by your mother going off the rails and straight into the underbelly of Busan's drug and gambling scene - alcohol was never far from her either.

The only moderately good thing that had come out of it for you was the contact with some of the nicer gang members supplying your mother and her then boyfriend. Luckily they had protected you from the worst, it was not easy being a late teenager just turning into a woman in the midst of older men. They had trained you for the inevitable and steeled you into being able to defend yourself. When you had stabbed the first bastard where it hurt most, almost decapitating the little one, a smidge more respect had been extended to you.

Still, it could not prepare you for the sight of your mother's so-called boyfriend smacking her head against the wall when you returned home one day. For the most part, the man hadn't bothered with you but something had to have gone tits up in the two days you had been gone. Always one for the best timing, you had cursed the creak of the sliding door, alerting him to your presence. Later on you figured he had probably taken something he shouldn't have as he was almost frothing at the mouth. You saw the glint of the knife too late, he had already slid the metal across her neck, eliciting a strained sob from you. While she hadn't been kind to you in the time since your father's death, you could understand why your mother had been so broken - you felt it too. Though you had no time to mourn as the abusive boyfriend turned killer was now focussing on you, still lucid enough to realize that you were now a thorn in his side.

You had never run as fast, smacking into the corners roughly in trying to escape his wild swinging, scrambling over furniture and finally narrowly slipping through a window. Still, the knife had caught the back of your calf and you had to bite your cheek so hard it had bled for days so as not to scream and alert anyone.