Paradigm

Chapter IX

Incheon, South Korea, February 1998.

Seonghwa rather felt like a hostage at this point. He was more afraid than he would willingly admit.

They had taken a taxi to Incheon. The chauffeur had asked an outrageous amount of money when he dropped them off at their destination, which Paul had paid without batting an eye. For the hundredth time of the day, the editor wondered where that money came from.

Afterwards, they walked at least forty minutes until they found the port where they would allegedly find those so-called Japanese shady friends. The night had fallen a long time ago now, and it was freezing cold. Every single respiration drew a cloud of steam from their mouth and nose. Paul had gotten rid of his fake mustache, only keeping his grayish hair that contrasted strongly with his youthful features. The area around his jaw where he took the hit was now a bit swollen and covered in dried blood, which did not make him look more trust-worthy than those Japanese bandits.

They were roaming around the hundreds of meters of docks full of huge containers for the merchandise. There was a number on each of those, which Paul checked out every single time until he suddenly stopped and whistled a few notes. Then, he replayed the melody by knocking at the metal wall until other men with caps and face masks opened the door of the cargo container. Seonghwa carefully remained outside while Paul was negotiating with the guys in Japanese. All he did was peek inside from time to time and that was already enough to see them exchange unreasonably plump wads of cash.

Without noticing, he had already started biting his nails.

Later on, some tattooed Japanese dockers took them to a small ship and showed them the tiny compartment where they would sleep. Honestly, that boat did not look like it could resist a storm in the sea but Seonghwa preferred turning a blind eye. Apparently, the departure was planned for 3 AM, so they would remain at bay for the time being.

In spite of the late hour, the editor could not bring himself to just lie down and sleep so he fumbled in his backpack looking for a letter he had received from Yeosang that very morning at the hotel. Since he would be at sea for a certain time after that, he would not be able to send a reply until they would arrive in Naha.

"Dear Hwa,

You were right, that book is really phenomenal. I just finished it yesterday.

I am glad to hear you're enjoying your stay in Seoul, even though I can't help but worry about the risks you're taking for this author. Please, make sure you always stay safe.

The flat is a bit too tidy now that you're gone.

I can't wait to see you again,

Yeosangie. "

-Aren't you sleeping ?

-Mmmmh...given that I am currently in the same room as a man who actually thought that killing three people was a good idea, I shall abstain, Seonghwa replied a bit more sassily than he intended.

Paul smirked discreetly. The yellowish light of the dysfunctional neons in the compartment reflected in his feline eyes. The editor avoided looking any longer in his direction, suddenly uncomfortable.

The smell of rust that impregnated the compartment convinced the editor to write a short response to Yeosang that he could send if they ever arrived in Naha with this peanut shell of a boat. He took a pen and started scribbling on a slightly crumpled postcard he had bought in Seoul, trying to forget the bad feeling he had about those Japanese smugglers.

"Dear Yeosang,

I'm glad you liked the book, I am even more convinced that this novel is sensational, now. You've always had great taste.