My Songbird's Dream

39. Trying again

Occupied Seoul
March 1945

Elsewhere disorder brewed for itself as the vibration fell over skin —Backhanded with stunning force, Yong-su staggered several paces before regaining footing. He worked his aching jaw, eyes watering yet still defiantly meeting his brother-in-law's blistering glare.

"How was I to know the vagrant actually held ties to the fallen dynasty?" Yong-su burst out angrily once he could speak clearly again. "You were the one who chose playing violent interrogator that night without thought for consequences!"

He made to spit a globule of blood onto opulent carpet but caught himself under Dachi's murderous gaze. Instead Yong-su reached gingerly into his mouth to withdraw the damaged back molar sent flying by the other man's punch.

Sneering through split and swollen lips, he continued goading. "YOU told me information pried from that woman about some Chang meant opportunity securing your father's approval." Yong-su let the extracted tooth bounce wetly atop embroidered silk rugs without blinking. "Your ambition ordered the beatings to satisfy your own ends."

"Yet now in your staggering idiocy, that Mr. Anderson beggar proves to have been a direct descendant of Korea's last imperial bloodline!" Rage colored Dachi's knuckles white where fists remained clenched. "A royal heir who could have set our gain even higher had your impatience not murdered a valuable political bartering piece!"

They hovered nearly nose to nose now, past camaraderie as tenuous brothers long burned away by recent jealousies and schemes. At last Yong-su scoffed bitterly through the blood still welling inside his mouth. "Put your own house in order first, old friend. For I've played devoted brat catching blame over your sister's harlot missteps long enough..."

He gestured crudely over one shoulder with a sneer. "Isn't Miyoko warming your bed these days while I cravenly cling to some Korean's table scraps because of your mishandling?" Dachi asked.

" It's not my fault your sister's a whore and your father regrets having you as a son." Casually vicious, Yong-su twisted that knife deeper with careless skill.

Screaming Dachi shoved him aside "Face it - you've always been more dog than wolf sniffing after Ji-tae's leftovers. No wonder your Father has lost faith and funded his ambitions first."

Dachi's enraged roar propelled him across the opulent parlor in a heartbeat, tackling Yong-su bodily over an antique leather ottoman. They crashed to the polished floor in a tangle of flailing limbs and fury. Any pretense of civility vanished now as the men pummeled and clawed at each other with vicious abandon, expensive silk suits ripping under the onslaught.

Yong-su landed a solid uppercut to Dachi's jaw, snapping his head back with a sickening crack. Dachi retaliated by driving his knee viciously into Yong-su's stomach, making him double over retching.

Drawn by the commotion, stunned staff burst into the wrecked sitting room. Their stricken faces quickly morphed into shouts for police intervention upon taking in the utter devastation. Priceless vases lay shattered, paintings askew on the walls, furniture overturned and splintered by the brawling pair. 

It required several uniformed officers bodily dragging the men off each other with pry bars and colorful curses. Dachi thrashed against their hold, still snarling and spitting blood, his right eye swiftly blackening. Only the cold bite of steel restraints finally reestablished some tenuous order.

Hours later, squinting through his one unswollen eye under the harsh fluorescent lights of the precinct holding cell, Dachi watched blearily as his father's guard's grim-faced retainer spoke at length with the corrections captain.