Unfortunate and Woe (2)

Warning! This chapter has adult-restricted contents such as the use of vulgar languages, violence, intercourse, and might even show the portrayal of harmful activities. Continue at your own risk.

...

Lifting the bodies from the house to the truck, Young Mirae felt her arms were giving in. 

Hm, well, perhaps not really. Young Mirae had the thought in herself that she needed to leave a formal farewell to her second mother, the underboss's mistress. But it would look odd to the Nam siblings.

Why would a cleaner mourn at a stranger's dead body?

They would label her as yellow-bellied and 'soft' for mourning, or worse, suspect her for knowing the identity of the dead.

Stating her excuses to Nam Hiah, bringing in the reason for her chest tightening and the pain which her healing ribs were giving, Young Mirae received a quick break.

Young Mirae leaned on the van's door. She took a cigarette from her pocket and lit it up with a lighter. Inhaling, holding it in for a few seconds, she soon puffed the smoke along with the unexpected news she found out.

"Hah, what time is it?" Fuck, right, she did not have a smartphone or a watch. 

"I mean, why won't that fake gran-gran give me a smartphone? Or even allow me to use one?" Young Mirae babbled, "What does he think I'm going to do with a phone other than posting a picture on my social media? God, I am so left behind with posting my daily pics to everyone."

Her hands were shaking; she tried to distract herself. She was escaping to the thought that she had no one beside her anymore.

Young Mirae smoked her cigarette when she heard voices from the parked car close to her position. 

Hm, parked car? Was it there the whole time? Young Mirae could not notice it since her thoughts preoccupied her the whole time.

"That looks scary as hell. It was like it popped out of nowhere. Maybe, that is the client's vehicle?" Her wonder brought her somewhere else.

'The, the client!' 

Young Mirae threw her cigarette onto the ground and marched toward the car. A black Mercedes-Benz B-Class, similar to what her mafia family would buy.

"This is cheap. It tastes disgusting like your fucking nut," growled the man's voice in anger.

Young Mirae tip-toed behind a bush. That bush separated the van and the car at the parking lot of the house. She deep squatted on her heels, listened to the voice talking while she was hiding.

"...You've done it, again," the man spoke in a troubled tone. "Why can't they find someone more, more relying? I am done with these stupid recruits."

"I, I am sorry, Leader! I will l-look for a convenience store who sells g-good cigarettes—"

Bang, a deafening gunshot came into Young Mirae's ears. A body slumping on the concrete followed it.

"Yeah sure, boy. Try looking for a convenience store in hell for me," growled the man. "Tsk."

Click after a click from a person's high heels, followed by a voice — it said: "You, stop killing the recruits that the Underboss is sending you. You are wasting what my people trained, Geum Il Hwa."

"Ah, so that person is trained?" the man named Il Hwa scoffed, "I don't need them. I only need one."

"One, yup. That one doesn't even want to breathe the same air with you," replied a woman's voice. "Tell me about it."

"...Why are you here, Ae Chan?"

"Because I am? My feet brought me here, and you seemed lonely, you know. I can always offer you a cuddle you, Il Hwa."

"Fuck off, you're aware I don't like girls. Get away from me."

"Hey, we all know why we're here. To see if the runaway princess of the Young family will bite the bait. We have been waiting for her arrival since the day we killed these people. But we have seen no one, not even a shadow of her. Do you think we're wasting time here?"

The whites of her eyes flashed evidently; Young Mirae forgot to breathe after hearing the woman's words. Inhaling once, she choked. She tried to gasp for air again but failed. The pictures of what happened that night played in a thousand frames per second.

'These, these are the people who killed my family. They are the ones who—'

"Sunhi, what are you doing down there?" The question snapped Young Mirae from her thoughts. It was from Nam Hiah.

"H-Huh?" Young Mirae seemed in a state of shock. She raised her gaze and saw the Nam siblings standing in front of her.

"I asked you, what were you doing," Nam Hiah recited her question, again.

What was Young Mirae doing? She was listening to the two people who were talking while she hid behind the bush.

After snapping out completely, she stood from deep squatting on the concrete. Young Mirae's eyes hurriedly strived to find the man and the woman, but they were nowhere to be seen in the parking lot. 

"I, ah, um," she stuttered. 

Young Mirae failed to say a word after her unforeseen encounter with the people who killed her own.

"Oh, look. There's a dead body here, too. This one looks freshly taken out from the refrigerator," interrupted Nam Hana. "But who's going to clean this?"

…

While driving, his smartphone rang, and the screen flashed the name of the person calling: Underboss. Park Wonho answered it in an instant after his ringtone rang for a second and greeted the person.

"Good evening, Underboss. What brings you to call this number?"

"Any news about the granddaughter?" the voice from the other line queried.

"Unfortunately for us, no. There is no news about the whereabouts of the heiress. Nothing to see in the mansion for clues. Surveillance cameras of the area have no records — not oddly enough for Young Soojin."

"So, she's not just talented, but also intelligent? Do you think Soojin hid that fact about her granddaughter?"

"Certainly, or maybe," Park Wonho paused before finishing his statement. "Or someone is helping the heiress."

"Impossible," was the immediate answer from the underboss.

'If you say so,' Park Wonho replied in his head while his eyes were on the road.

With a moment of silence and a minute for Park Wonho to build his courage to ask a question, he followed, "Is your finger okay, Underboss?"

"How do you define 'okay', Park Wonho?" The underboss's response seemed like a growl, but a laugh came after. "I'm kidding, boy. Don't sweat it. It's just a middle finger. I still have nine more for my wife to use. Just send me a report when you see a shadow of her."

The underboss cut off the line after that. At the simultaneous time, another call rang in. Park Wonho thought the underboss forgot to leave a word for him, but he was highly mistaken.

When he slid the green button, he read the name flashing on the screen of his smartphone. "Fuck," Park Wonho muttered, and he ended the line in a blink.

Seconds later, the same name flashed again on the screen. Park Wonho waited and waited for the person to stop calling. However, that person continued pestering him.

Eventually, he answered it. "Sorry, I hung up on you. I didn't mean to answer your call."

"You're not a fan of phone calls, aren't you?"

"If the caller is you, Il Hwa. I will never be a fan—" Park Wonho ended the call, again.