33: Incheon (8)
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Hudson and Vin Jin stood tall at the edge of the rocky waterfront. The waves rolled in, crashing against the jagged stone with a hollow roar before pulling back into the sea, leaving behind streaks of white foam. The wind carried a briny sting, tossing strands of their hair into the air, brushing them across their sharp expressions. Above, the sky was undecided—sun and clouds locked in a quiet war of dominance, flickering between light and shadow as though the heavens themselves were waiting for someone to make the first move.
Hudson's expression was carved from stone, unflinching and unyielding. His stance—shoulders squared, hands in his pockets, chin slightly raised—radiated a presence that gnawed at the edges of the Dark Crocodile members' nerves. There was something about him, something unreadable and quietly terrifying, like an executioner who hadn't yet swung the blade.
A ripple of unease spread through the group of Dark Crocodile men. Their whispers faltered. Their confidence thinned. Among them, a smaller man with twitching fingers and darting eyes finally broke the silence. He looked at Vin Jin, his voice trembling as though every syllable scraped his throat raw.
"S-Sir… who is he?"
Vin Jin turned his head slowly, the strands of his long hair shifting with the wind, momentarily exposing one sharp eye that gleamed with restrained mischief. He looked at the trembling man first, then deliberately let his gaze slide across the rest of the group. His lips curled into a smirk, the kind that said he already knew they wouldn't like the answer. When he finally spoke, his voice carried deep and unshaken, resonant against the rhythmic crash of the sea.
"Who don't you think he is? Blond hair, lean build… and he's standing with me."
The Dark Crocodile members leaned forward, their silence loud, their ears pulled toward every word.
Vin Jin let the weight of anticipation stretch out, then his tone shifted colder, sharper, slicing through the salt-filled air.
"He is…"
A pause. The ocean itself seemed to hesitate, the waves stalling before retreating with a hiss.
"Joongoo Kim."
The name dropped like a hammer.
Hudson didn't flinch. His expression froze into something unreadable, as if his face itself had been cut from steel. His jawline sharpened under the shifting light, so razor-like it looked capable of splitting the air it breathed. [A/N: A pun, but also true.]
Hudson leaned his weight back slightly, posture still effortless, his hands refusing to leave his pockets. He didn't need movement to intimidate—his stillness alone screamed authority.
The small man's demeanor snapped instantly into a mask of obedience. His mouth tugged into a nervous smile, his voice wobbling between awe and fear.
"Ohhh… Sir… Nice to meet you."
Hudson tilted his head just slightly, his eyes narrowing with the barest hint of irritation. His words came out low, his tone flat, almost dismissive.
"You should take us to Chinatown."
The cold in his voice washed over the small man like ice water down his spine. It drained the blood from his face, yet forced his body into compliance. He stepped back, shoulders slouched, smile plastered nervously across his lips as he gestured toward the path behind him.
"Yes… Certainly. Let's go."
But before the group could move, another voice cut across the air—steady, broad, and confident, unlike the others. A different man from the Dark Crocodile stepped forward, his chest squared, his eyes flicking between Hudson and Vin Jin.
"Sorry to interrupt you… but will those men behind you not go with you?"
Vin Jin's gaze snapped toward the man like a blade being unsheathed. His face remained unreadable, but the sharpness in his eyes made the air heavier. He turned slowly, his expression unreadable, until his gaze found Zack.
Zack exhaled, a long steady breath that seemed to silence the moment.
"We will observe Incheon and its condition!"
The voice didn't come from Vin Jin, but from behind. All eyes shifted.
It was Zack Lee.
He stepped forward through the quiet tension, the waves seeming to bow in their rhythm at his presence. The suit and tie wrapped around his frame caught the flicker of sunlight in a way that elevated him beyond casual authority. He didn't just look prepared—he looked inevitable. Majestic, even.
Each step was deliberate, neither rushed nor hesitant. He stopped when he wanted, and when he raised his head, the calm in his voice poured out like smooth whiskey, slow and controlled.
"We will not go to Chinatown. Instead, we will observe the condition of Incheon and its people."
The Dark Crocodile members exchanged wary glances, their eyes flashing with restrained hostility. Uneasy whispers rippled through their ranks. Shoulders tensed. Fists clenched. The atmosphere thickened, pressing down like a brewing storm. It wasn't just tension—it was the suffocating pause before a brawl.
Zack's lips tilted upward into a smirk, the kind of smirk that mocked the idea of resistance. His words dripped with arrogance, yet were so smooth they came off as undeniable.
"Do you have any problem?"
The tone was cold, almost playful in its cockiness, like a predator daring prey to step closer.
Vin Jin's grunt cut through the silence like a thunderclap, his tone oppressive, vibrating with authority.
"Do you have any problem!? Huh!!?"
The sheer force behind his voice rattled the weaker members of Dark Crocodile. Their bravado faltered. Their steps shifted back, reluctantly surrendering space. Their scowls remained, but their bodies told the truth: they weren't ready to test these men here, not now.
Zack allowed the tension to breathe just enough before leaning back, his smirk widening.
"Well. We don't need any guide. We've got our Google Maps, don't we, Vasco?"
He tilted his head lazily toward Vasco.
Vasco, who had been quiet until then, finally stepped forward. His stance was broad, his arms crossed, his voice carrying like thunder rolling over an open plain.
"Yes! Our Google Maps!!"
The declaration rang loud and authoritative, echoing with a weight that pulled the last threads of confidence out of the Dark Crocodile members. Their silence confirmed their defeat.
Zack smirked once more, then shifted his eyes back to Vin Jin.
"You should go. We will be on our way."
Vin Jin didn't respond immediately. Instead, he let the smirk creep back onto his face. His eyes narrowed slightly, a glint of mischief flashing in them, before he turned. Without hurry, he began to move, Hudson at his side and the small man trailing nervously to lead them. As he walked, he raised one hand lazily in the air, as though mocking a casual farewell.
The sunlight broke through the clouds again, casting a glow over their path. Vin Jin's silhouette stretched across the ground, moving steadily toward the light.
Hudson leaned closer, his whisper barely cutting through the sound of the waves. His tone was soft, quiet, but laced with reproach.
"Is this worth it? You want to look cool?"
Vin Jin's hand still hovered in the air, his steps never slowing. His whisper came back calm, detached, yet strangely reflective.
"I don't know. I just felt that this is the right time."
Behind them, Zack muttered under his breath, his voice dripping with low disgust.
Auhh, why Vin Jin?" Zack muttered, his voice low, his tone heavy with disgust. His jaw tightened as he tilted his head slightly, his sharp eyes following Vin's back. The faint hum of the waves echoed against the rocks, but to Zack it was nothing more than static. His irritation pulsed louder than the ocean.
Vasco, who had been silent for a while, exhaled long and heavy. His eyes narrowed, then closed altogether as if shutting himself away from the ridiculous situation in front of him. He wasn't just annoyed—he was exhausted. His metaphorical eyes bled at the unnecessary dramatics Vin carried around like a badge of honor.
Jay, unlike the others, didn't waste his breath. He turned away, quietly and gracefully, as though the world outside their tension still existed. His eyes drifted across the stretch of ocean that reached far into the horizon. The water glistened faintly under the dim play of sun and cloud, silver light weaving between restless waves. He let the breeze brush through his long hair, strands flickering against his pale face. If he was bothered, it never showed. His gaze was a painting, distant, detached, yet calm.
Zack cleared this throat, adjust his suit. Then said with a calm and cool composure.
"So, shall we move too?"
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[A/N: From now on, this will the word count]