Chapter Text
When she’d stepped into the shower after that unexpected interaction, when she’d crawled into bed and then woken up the next day, when she’d been Airpodless and alone with her thoughts in the train carriage, she’d regretted that, “See you soon.”
The good twenty hours that had passed welcomed plenty of overthinking, which was evidently necessary as she had clearly been underthinking . Hello? Bambi? What the hell was that?
Sure, he’d looked dismal crumpled like sheet metal in the shadows of his own student council room, like a king slain by his throne. But enough to warrant her dropping her first-aid kit by his feet? Perhaps the lowlights did a commendable job of painting the planes of his face, and he’d looked incredibly solitary emerging out of the darkness. But she’d sat with him? And not only that, she’d talked to him? And dressed his wounds? Like some idiot lovesick yearner might with her hotheaded boyfriend in a tender yet useless petition for him to learn some fucking civility.
She remembered the foreign sensation of compassion that had briefly overtaken her, taking a sight that was otherwise ‘pathetic’ and rendering it into ‘pity’. What was it that had induced it? Surely Wolf Keum wasn’t that piteous? She’d orchestrated and observed the beatings of so many bastards that violence wasn’t even a spectacle to her anymore. Regardless of the vacuum of self-chastisement that she’d been siphoned into, she was unable to decipher her own odd logic. But it didn’t even matter if she had a reason. There were no excuses.
Walking into Donald’s office and seeing a suitcase filled to the brim with money propped against his desk was like a deliberate taunting that caused her to cast her gaze to the carpeted floor. It felt like overkill at this point. Though unmarked, the blood spatter on the otherwise indiscrete brown leather might as well have been a signed note— Xoxo, Ganghak. The cash had accompanied a message on KakaoTalk detailing Jared Sun’s beating as well as a photo of his satisfyingly swollen face, courtesy of Wolf Keum. She’d only interacted with the boy a few times in her life, but he’d caused the Union enough trouble for her to take a grim gratification in his suffering.
Donald had barely looked at her when she’d tread into the room, but his stare was pinned on her now as she began to approach. No, not on her. The stack of notes in her hand that she retrieved out of her suitcase, heavily detailing Jared Sun’s misdeeds. It was designed to unnerve, the way he made the switch from behaving as if your presence was too insignificant to warrant any acknowledgment to hyperfocus, eyes baring past any facades you might be putting up. Not for her though. They were too well-acquainted for it to deter her from parking herself before him, though she made a note to venture warily. He seemed genuinely dangerous tonight, even if it weren’t a threat to her.
The problem of Wolf surfaced again and she shoved it to the back of her mind.
“You already know this, but Ganghak is under fire for academic corruption. One of Jared Sun’s classmates, who was a victim of his bullying, wrote an essay online exposing his participation in academic corruption with familial ties and made the whole thing erupt into a big deal.” The papers she laid down gently on the table were suddenly ensnared under Donald’s fist with all the grace of a cheetah pouncing onto an antelope. She continues without faltering. “Most of the backlash has been centred on Jared and his family, but that doesn’t eradicate all the news coverage on Ganghak, which might hamper our activities. My biggest worry,” She ceased from talking momentarily as Donald skimmed over the printed article, inscrutable aside from the creasing around his eyes.
“Is that this will inspire other investigations, or that someone else will feel motivated to write their own little exposé, covering us. Wolf has reported difficulty collaborating with the teachers, collecting and delivering for the companies with this attention, and uh, ‘using their rec funds’.” She finished, rolling her eyes as she conveyed the last line. That was so obviously code for underage drinking.
“And?” A fingernail pushed a crescent-shaped dent in the paper.
“I’ve shifted the operations to their usual warehouse for the time being, and forbidden them from possessing any of the money or documents in school. I doubt anybody will check past there. And I told the boys not to moderate their behaviour.” Unconsciously, she shook a lock of hair that escaped her half-up behind her shoulder. Whenever she did that she felt like a horse tossing its mane, but the habit was too ingrained in her.
“You didn’t tell them to tone it down?”
“If we reinforce our strength rather than exemplifying the impact of backlash on our organisation, the message we spread is that we can’t be made to back down. It’s clear that the incident with that boy was a total anomaly. At least, it will be, as long as the fear of the Union stays above anybody’s belief that they could fraternise against us.” The last part of her message was transmitted with wholehearted confidence. Bambi had seen the mighty crumble under societal repercussions. But she’d also seen—much more frequently, might she add—an entire room of students cower under the force of one bully. As long as she maintained the notoriety that the Union had accumulated over the years, an event like this would never transpire again— she was sure of it.
Donald seemed to consider this too as he processed her relayed information, tension welling up in the room as his hand curled into a fist on the side of his desk. Finally, after a few seconds of inaudible pondering, his frame relaxed, and he placed a hand on his forehead, his other hand sliding her report to the side of the table for future consideration. “Very good.” Bambi had expected this reaction. Good meant she’d done her job, Very meant she was exemplary. “Is that all?”
“Hyeongshin got the indemnity agreement stamped by the subcontractor in charge of site preparation. It’ll be on your desk by tomorrow.” Now that news got a laugh out of him, no matter how mirthless it was. All of a sudden, he seemed energised again. His tolerance for incompetent and imprudent adults had always been fatally low, especially after he’d gotten involved with Chungil Lee.
Chungil was a neat-looking man whose high-collared shirts brought to her mind an image of a priest, though from what she’d discerned, his business was far from saintly. Everytime he frequented Donald’s office, she was conveniently dismissed, with nobody left but Kingsley to bear testimony to their meetings. Regardless of this, she was still aware that it regarded Chungil, her employer, and other powerful men coercing (or intimidating) people into handing them power over business sectors while bribing government officials to either contribute or look the other way. The entire system ensured that redevelopment projects only fell into the hands of those in their network.
On paper, bidding for projects was entirely fair and transparent. In reality, however, the winner of the bid was pre-decided to be whichever supplier was in the network, usually one whose prices were hitched much higher than the quality of their materials were worth. This way, money earned stayed in the system, and everyone won.
This particular subcontractor had been reeled in with the money, and failed to consider that with every easy bait, there came a hook. He’d profited from their system but faltered when handed an indemnity agreement, which would transfer the responsibility for resulting damages onto him. And considering the measly quality of materials and unethical manpower being utilised, damages were definitely in the picture. The delay that this brought upon the operation was not taken graciously.
“Only a moron would think they could make money in our line of work without its risks. Once you’re in, you can’t back out. That braindead fucker should have thought of that before he got cold feet.” As always, Donald was correct. Nothing about their work was ethical, or even legal, so any involvement should’ve been contemplated with finality. You had to be outstandingly thick-headed to entangle yourself with the most affluent people in Seoul and then believe you could withdraw. Somehow, she discovered herself experiencing zero sympathy for what she knew befell the sub-contractor.
Hmm.
Finding that she had nothing else to add, Bambi turned to face the door. “I’m gonna go now.”
From behind her, she heard a page flip, before a disinterested voice implored, “Where to?”
“I’m meeting with Hyeongshin. The indemnity agreement?”
“Hmm. Have you eaten?” Same bored tone.
“Not yet. I’m not sure when I will.”
“What’re you getting?”
Bambi frowned. What was with this sudden interrogation? “Anything that can be microwaved.”
There’s no response now and she thinks he’s tired of the meaningless small talk. Taking the cue to excuse herself, she approaches the exit, ready to finish her last task and conclude her day when she hears metal jangling behind her. Her head turns quickly enough to catch a head of fine blonde hair rising and Donald shoving his keys into his front pockets.
“What’re you doing?” To her horror, her accusing tone does nothing to hinder him from striding past her, his arm plucking his hoodie from the rack in one swift movement as he marches by.
“I’m walking down with you. I’m going to the bakery. You said it yourself. I could benefit from some fresh air.” He flicked the light off, bathing the room in darkness before cracking open the door. A sliver of light washes over her face as he shoots her a practised sphinxlike smile.
“Are you coming?”
***
Surprisingly, it was him who initiated the conversation after five short-lived but awkward seconds of silent walking down the hallway. “You don’t have to do that right now.” Casually, he addressed Bambi, who had been trailing two steps behind him. “Walk next to me.”
She shot Donald a curious glance before matching his pace. What was up with him today? Usually she lagged behind him out of respect, but she assumed that didn’t matter when no one was around, though she doubted he extended the privilege to any of his executives. Still, it was an odd experience, as if she’d encroached on his boundaries and was now directly in the range to be blasted into a smudge on the carpet. At least she wasn’t dwarfed by him.
“What was it you had first thing in the morning? That student council gathering, right? You should get home quickly and rest.” He flashed that same elusive smile as if he hadn’t just spoken utter bullshit and knew it. Get home quickly? Rest? As if.
“It’s just a stupid joint school meeting about school bullying.” She spat the sentence out, causing Donald, who she was vaguely aware was regarding her a lot more intently than regularly, to snicker. Her eyes skirted his gaze just the same, rather tracing the flashes of pink and black against the grey carpet as their clashing footwear marched side-by-side. “I’m pretty sure it’s just a photo op with that old guy, Oh…” Fuck, what was his name?
“Oh Byung Sook.” Donald finished, coming to a halt as they approached the elevator, jabbing the ‘down’ arrow button. “He’s on the Ministry of Education’s Board of Directors. He’s close with Chungil Lee. See if you can coerce him into meeting with me. Apparently Chungil’s halfway there.”
It took a few seconds for Bambi’s brain to register which specific senior man Donald was referring to. She was aware that portly and flabby were both synonyms for Oh Byung Sook, but that could apply to at least half of the men who did business with Donald. Finally she landed on a specific man as the elevator bell dinged and the two of them slipped into the lift.
Oh , that guy. He reminded her of a fish bursting out of a barrel, with the way the seams on his supposedly Italian suit were snapping. He’d also been distastefully lecherous. She could distinctly remember his leathery grip on her shoulder, suggestively informing her that he didn’t mind signing on if Donald’s ‘secretary’ was “that beautiful”. She was pretty sure she’d been in her uniform during that exchange too. She supposed the distaste had manifested itself on her face because Donald broke the silence once again.
“I can see the look on your face. Speak your mind.”
“I think he’s a fucking creep.” Short and simple. She dared to peek at Donald, whose face she’d been ignoring since they left the office, and the slight crease in his forehead indicated he hadn’t considered that. Typical male-dominated workspaces.
His tone was casual enough, but if it wasn’t Donald Na that she was speaking to, she’d have nearly imagined that she picked up a hint of regret there. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll have Kingsley handle it instead.”
She shrugged it off. “It’s fine.” It really was— it wasn’t anything she wasn’t used to, being young, beautiful, and female. Though she was thankful she’d never experienced that behaviour from the Union boys; they seemed to classify her as some sort of Eldritch being and were too terrified to even consider attraction.
Another awkward pause, though she was sure it was only awkward for her. Donald was the type to bask in the discomfort of his subordinates, and judging by the subtle upward quirk of his lip, that was exactly what he was doing at the moment. With this in mind, she attempted to keep her face as still as possible like she’d had one too many Botox appointments, but the inerasable furrow of her brow probably gave her away.
The elevator finally slowed, and its doors trembled open. The streets of Seoul were now visible, neon lights and cars just in reach past the double glass doors. The foot traffic was especially bad by the office since Donald had insisted on renting right next to the train station. Now, especially, on a Friday night, pedestrians were pouring right in and out of its gaping maw.
“You know, you’ve lost your edge.” The unanticipated insult caused her head to swivel around incredulously.
“What?”
“When I first met you, you were much ruder.”
She scoffs, which made him chuckle.
“Like that.”
A hazy memory of their first meeting briefly materialises. The both of them alone, in an empty classroom, her back to the window and his to the doorway. When the first words she uttered to him were, ‘Are you here to beat me up?’
She takes his statement as permission to scoff again, this time more boldly. “I don’t even remember that. Do you want me to be rude?”
“I’m just saying.” Donald hummed lightheartedly. He shifted forward slightly to push the door open, propping it open for her to pass. She could see his bicep stretching against the constraints of the fabric and she rerouted her gaze, stepping out of the building and into the discordant noise of the city.
There’s a certain look on Donald’s face now, that Bambi just can’t place. He was acting rather outlandish tonight, with the banter and walking and the door-holding and whatnot, though it wasn’t necessarily unpleasant. If he wanted to act as if they were friends, she could match his energy.
“What a gentleman.” The comment is sly, and draws a smirk on his face.
“You should go now.” There he went again, being considerate. “Come with me and Kingsley for dinner next time. It’ll be better than microwaved food.”
***
Stepping into the bar right after a debrief in Donald’s sterile and insipid showcase of an office was like having a tub of ice water flung onto you just as you were exiting a steam bath. The door to the private room had swung outwards just as she was about to rap on it, and she’d had to step back to avoid the flock of boys who were ambling out, submerged in a fog of cigarette smoke and alcohol.
“Hey, Bambi!” From behind the throng, Forrest Lee raised a large hand at her. “I was just sending ‘em out. Didn’t know you were gonna be early. Put ‘em out, boys.” He stubs his cigarette out on the side of the table, and his two subordinates, Grape and Robin follow suit, echoing their leader’s greetings. At her appearance, the troupe of men were now avidly intrigued by the flooring as they hurriedly plodded down the hallway. She nodded approvingly. Hyeongshin, ever the gentlemen.
“Hey.” She strode into the room, which she imagined could only be located in the shadiest corners of Yeongdeungpo, or the most traumatising nightmare that would haunt an epileptic’s mind. A projector dangled from the ceiling, casting rainbow spheres down onto the room and its occupants. Half-eaten platters of expensive meat and other cuisines were stacked next to shots of soju and glasses of beer over a laminate table top sticky from the rims of alcohol bottles and ashes, and folded cigarette butts were crammed in between seat cushions. “Damn, the staff must fucking hate you.”
“Nah, this is regular. C’mere.”
She deftly sidestepped a puddle with her heels before sliding next to Grape, who grinned. “Yo, Bambi! It’s been too long!” This sentiment was echoed by Forrest and Robin, who busied themselves with the dishes on the table.
“We knew you were coming, so we saved some for you. You have dinner yet?” The red-head slid a plate of meat and kimchi over to her, along with clean chopsticks which she greatly appreciated.
“Nah, I never have time for that shit.” She ignored the concerned looks exchanged among the boys as she declined a shot glass that Robin offered her. “You know I don’t drink.” The boy shrugged before downing it himself, inciting laughter from his friends.
“Fucking Robin, man. Look at him fucking go. That’s his, what? Twelfth one already?” Forrest slapped his second-in-command on the shoulder, who smirked.
“Thirteenth.”
“Fucking heavyweight, man. Look at this guy, drinking away all our rec fees.”
This spurred another round of laughter from the boys, and Bambi permitted herself to join in. She’d rather get straight to business, but the mood that day was especially jovial, and they deserved to have that, after everything that had occurred.
“Come on, Bambi. Have some food. We bought the good shit today, you know?” Grape thrust the dish in her direction, his tie loose and cheeks flushed. There was a glimmer in his eye, which she recognised as being derived both from the alcohol and camaraderie, as well ego-boost of his association with a high-profile Union member. She’d let him have that. It was refreshing to see him acting as himself, rather than cowering under the fist of some tyrant, which he so often seemed to be doing nowadays. “I know you’re busy being Donald Na’s, like, top informer, but you need to eat.” Suddenly, he swivelled his head to yell at the corner of the room.
“Yo, Seongmin! Go get us a refill!”
Bambi nearly flinched right out of her skin. A boy knelt in the corner of the room, shrouded by the darkness. How the fuck had she not seen him? The welts and bruising that rendered his facial features indistinguishable were apparent even in the poor lighting. The boys had really done a number on him. He quivered into the protection of the shadows, ignorant to Grape’s command. Forrest and Robin chuckled at this.
“That bastard’s fucking ignoring you.” Robin called out, and Grape rose from his seat, his jaw clenched. Bambi shot Forrest a look. Did they have to be doing this around her? Unperturbed, Forrest elaborated. “We’ve caught him being a little too loose with his tongue and the money recently. Grape’s been trying to teach this bastard a lesson.” The aforementioned boy gave a resounding smack to the back of the delinquent’s skull before yanking his head back by the hair.
“Hey, get up man. Didn’t we say we were gonna make you our shuttle? Huh?” He grinned savagely down at the sight. “What’re you bopping your head around like a fucking bobblehead, huh? Haha!” He pivoted around. “Hey Bambi, watch this!” Without much effort, considering that his victim was nearly unconscious, Grape flung Seongmin to the ground, lifting his leg in a high kick and then slamming it onto the boy. “Door mat!”
“Hey, tone it down in front of the lady!” Forrest barked.
“That was a pretty good one.” Robin laughed cruelly, before turning to Bambi. “He thinks he’s Hwoarang.”
Bambi leaned back into her seat and crossed her arms, regarding the scene before her. Seongmin…She’d seen him before, lingering at the back of the group. Hmm. Perhaps he’d gotten a little too cocky. Still, this seemed too harsh. She’d just been unfortunately reminded of what the consequences of pushing a misfit to the edge could entail. Cleaning up the mess at Ganghak was enough work already.
“Hey, let him up.” The three gangsters turned to face her hesitantly, but she paid no heed to this, snapping her fingers at Seongmin. “You can go.” The boy stumbled to his feet, staggering to the door, blood trailing from his…well, everywhere. The room fell silent as the door snapped shut, and she addressed the boys and their expectant expressions. “We’re still sorting through the trouble caused at Ganghak because a vengeant loser decided to take revenge on a Union member. Seongmin can’t exactly go to the media or the police, but I still don’t want him grudging against Hyeongshin.”
At the broaching of the Jared Sun incident and the punishment it had brought upon Ganghak, the boys exchanged a solemn look.
“Yeah, all right. I’ll keep ‘em in check.” Forrest mumbled, sinking the room into subdued silence, though it was quickly broken by Robin standing up and shuffling towards the door.
“I’ll get the refill then.”
With that, the room sobered up. The two remaining boys turned back to the table with a grim look on their faces. Bambi almost felt bad for dampening the mood, but stupidity was to be corrected. She turned towards them, deciding it was an appropriate time to breach the matter of the indemnity agreement now that the atmosphere had taken a more severe turn. She didn’t need to, however, as Forrest did it for her.
“You’re here for this, right?” He laid a manila folder that he’d conjured out of thin air onto the laminated table top, taking care to avoid the food and alcohol spills, though she didn’t see the point as the manila was so bloodied it looked like red was part of the original colour scheme. “Sorry for making you wait. Cause you’re so busy and all. If you need to go, you can go.”
Bambi paused, catching the sincere apology in his tone, and it reminds her why he’s the only Union executive she genuinely enjoys being around. She takes a quick glance at her watch. 10:07.
“It’s fine. I can stay a little longer. I need to go soon though.” Like a queen lounging, flicking her hand to permit the court to chortle at a joke, Bambi reclined back on the seat, feeling the short-lived sternness dissipate to nothing at her authorisation.
Robin returned to the room at this point and sensed the energy change, setting the food down on the table, and she allowed herself to indulge in some. Leaning her head against the wall, she watched the boys. She learned that Grape’s mother (who he refers to as a ‘stupid bitch’) is pressuring him to attend weekend cram school lessons. At this point she interjects and tells him not to use that word to refer to women. Robin has his eye on the college girl who works the counter at his favoured PC cafe, who his two friends goad him into making a move, though she can’t remember the last time he got a successful date. But soon enough, the conversation redirects back to her, as it always does.
“So, Bambi.” Robin addressed her casually enough. “Things have been hell with Eunjang, but it must be worse for you guys.” The other boys lean in too and she nearly rolled her eyes at how obnoxious their gossip fiending is. She lets them sit in their wide-eyed expectancy a little more before she ruins the anticipation.
“It’s been fine.”
This incites a groan of frustration.
“What about Ganghak? I heard that bastard Wolf Keum got beat half-to-death by Donald Na the other day. I bet they’re screwed.” Grape butt in.
Wolf Keum lying on the floor was not an image she wanted to summon when she was with her friends. “Why do you need to know? Mind your own business.”
“Weren’t you there?”
“Yo, quit speculating. If she wanted to tell us she would’ve already.” Forrest cut the exchange off before the questions could escalate further, and for the second time that day Bambi was grateful towards him. His boys looked reluctant to drop the topic, but Bambi didn’t want to give them the opportunity to ask again. Besides, she’s overstayed her welcome, and the stuttering multi-coloured lights were giving her a throbbing headache. She wondered just how badly the nicotine and alcohol is going to cling to her clothes.
She rose from her seat, folder secured between her slender fingers. None of the boys looked startled by her sudden departure— that’s just how she was. Always coming from somewhere, and always heading somewhere else. She’d actually devoted more time to this impromptu gathering than expected.
“I’ll be going now.” She tossed her hair behind her back, which was originally supposed to fall in a glossy wave, but has come into contact with something sticky. “I’ll see you around.”
The three boys echo their goodbyes again, already fading back into unrestrained laughter and conversations of their exploits and pursuits. When she shut the door, she heard the faint click of a lighter.
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