Archive of Our Own ^beta

The man on the beach was lying face down on the sand, one hand outstretched in front of him, legs straight and slightly apart. The waves lapped at his designer shoes and tailored slacks, soaking into his suit jacket and white dress shirt.

Donghoon licked his lips, tasted sweat that was beading on his upper lip and said weakly to his daughter, “You weren't kidding.”

“Why would I joke about something like this?” Jiwoo answered crossly. Then in a much smaller voice she added. “What should we do?”

Donghoon exhaled. Twenty years as a cop meant he had seen his fair share of bodies but that didn't mean he wasn't affected by the sight of one just lying there like a washed up bottle. "Stay here," he said firmly, waving her back.

Crouching over the body, Donghoon felt for a pulse. His eyes widened. Then he quickly turned the man on to his back and saw the red stain spreading on his shirt, the sand under him a dark color of rust. “Hey,” Donghoon called, slapping the man's cheeks, icy cold to the touch. There was no reaction, not even a flicker of an eyelid. “Shit,” said Dognhoon under his breath and then loudly, “Jiwoo-ah, come here.”

He started loosening the man's tie and belt, hoisting him up into fireman’s carry with a grunt. “Grab his things. We need to get him to a hospital.”

"He isn't dead?" asked Jiwoo, scrambling after him, relief and disappointment warring in her voice. "He's bleeding a lot."

"You run along first. Get some towels and the first aid kit ready. And boil some water." Donghoon directed while panting..

Jiwoo nodded and ran ahead up the beach while Donghoon laboured after her with his burden. The man was not light and through his wet clothes Donghoon could feel that the solid mass of him was almost all muscle. Either he was a gym nut or something else entirely.

Donghoon's house was about five hundred metres away from the beach but it was up a slope which made it feel like five miles. The early winter winds did nothing but slow him as he struggled, seawater from the unconscious man soaking into his own clothes. Jiwoo, bless her little heart, had left the sliding doors wide open for him and had the first aid kit ready and some towels laid out. Donghoon huffed and puffed his way in, dropping the man onto his couch.

His daughter stood to the side, wringing her hands. "Jiwoo, get me a basin of hot water and a washcloth," Donghoon said, sitting down beside the slumped figure and unbuttoning his shirt. He felt his jaw tighten when he saw the wound on the man's left side. "Shit. You need a hospital." Gunshot wounds were tricky and this one did not look good.

Cold fingers wrapped around his wrist in a surprisingly strong grip. Donghoon looked up into the unfocused eyes, his heart lurching. "No”, the man rasped. “No hospital.”

“But,” protested Donghoon, then his eyes landed on the tattoo on the man’s chest. It looked vaguely familiar but he couldn't place it.

“No hospital,” the man repeated, then went laxed, slipping into unconsciousness again.

“Appa?”

Donghoon shook himself and turned to Jiwoo. She had a basin of steaming water in both hands and a number of towels draped over one arm. “Ah, good girl. Give it here.” He took the basin from her and snagged a towel.

Jiwoo made a sound of distress. “Oh! Not that one!” But it was too late, Donghoon was already wiping at the blood. The light green cloth turned a dark red “Appa, that’s my favourite one!”

“What?” asked Donghoon in dismay, staring at the stained fabric in his hand. “Why'd you bring it then?”

“I just grabbed everything I could see!”

"I'm sorry, Jiwoo, but you have too many towels. A man is dying here. Don't distract me. Here, help me take off his clothes, he's freezing." He peeled the suit jacket off, then the wet shirt and handed both to Jiwoo. Donghoon cleaned the wound as best as he could. The long exposure to cold and seawater probably did not help. He debated with himself. Donghoon knew basic first aid and in a pinch, he was alright with a needle and thread. But this was something quite out of his expertise.

"Okay, Jiwoo, come here. This isn't going to be pretty but you're going to have to help me, alright?"

“What are you going to do?”

"I'm going to try and remove the bullet. Once it's out I want you to press hard on the wound. It's going to bleed a lot." He smiled shakIly at her worried face. "I hope you're not squeamish."

Jiwoo pulled a face. "Appa, shouldn't he see a doctor?" Donghoon shook his head and motioned for her to be quiet. Jiwoo's hands shook as she got on her knees beside the man, a towel ready.

"Okay,'' Donghoon swallowed and got to work. When was the last time he had to do such an intense ad hoc first aid? He couldn't remember. Years ago. His hands were slippery with blood in seconds, making it hard to grip the forceps steadily. He could feel the bullet but -

"Wipe the blood, sweetheart, I can't see."

Jiwoo whimpered as Donghoon dug in, trying to get a hold. The man barely stirred, thank god. "Almost there…," Donghoon muttered. "Got you," he shouted, triumphant as he plucked the small crushed metal out. It looked whole and there was even a bit of material from the man’s shirt stuck to the tip. The wound began to bleed sluggishly. "Now apply pressure, apply pressure, Jiwoo," Donghoon instructed, breathing hard, wiping his bloody hands on a towel.

"Oh god,'' groaned Jiwoo, pressing with both hands on the wound, the towel turning steadily red.

"It’s ok, sweetheart, just keep the pressure on… keep the pressure on,” Donghoon babbled, working fast. Then he cleaned the wound again. It would scar badly if it healed at all. He dug out bandages and gauze. "Alright," Donghoon nodded, a fresh towel in hand, swapping places with Jiwoo to press down on the wound. “Lift him up." Jiwoo scuttled behind the couch and did her best to shove the unconscious man upright. She managed - not by much - but enough that Donghoon could quickly wrap the bandages tight keeping the towel in place. "That should hold for now," Donghoon said, taking the weight off Jiwoo. The man’s skin was still deathly cold. "We will have to change it later."

Appa,” Jiwooo said, voice tight. “His head is bleeding.” Her fingers drew away fresh blood from the man’s matted hair. Donghoon bit back a sigh.

–

All in all, it took two hours before he finished patching up the stranger. By the time Donghoon had stripped him of all clothes and wiped him down with a warm cloth, the man was shivering badly, teeth chattering.

“Why aren't we taking him to a hospital?” asked Jiwoo again when Donghoon told her to bring as many blankets as she could to their small guest room.

“He told me no,” Donghoon hedged. “Here pass me a blanket and turn around.”

“And you listen to a half dead man?” Jiwoo snorted, she didn't turn around but jerked her head aside, staring determinedly at the wall as Donghoon slid the damp briefs off and wrapped the man in a blanket. With a grunt he hoisted the shivering man up and carried him to the bedroom.

Placing the man down as gently as he could, Donghoon heaved, “Jiwoo-ah, go shower, leave the mess I’ll clean it up later,” and started stacking blankets, one after another, atop the shaking man, curled up inside.

“No, it’s okay. Tell me what to do.”

“Soak all the bloodstained towels in soap water and just leave it. Go bathe after that, alright? We’ll figure out dinner later.”

Once Jiwoo had left the room, Donghoon climbed under the covers as well. The man needed body heat; he was still shaking so badly and freezing to the touch. He wrapped his arms around the stranger and pulled him close, chest to back, knees tuck under each other. “You’re okay. You’re going to be just fine,” Donghoon whispered, rubbing his arms up and down in what he hoped was a soothing gesture as the man made a small hurt noise, teeth rattling and whole body trembling in his wrapped up blanket. Donghoon pressed his face against one cold cheek and kept murmuring soothing nonsense the way he would for Jiwoo when she was upset or unwell, hold her close and murmur in her ear.

It had been a long time since he held anyone who wasn't half his body size; a long time since he held anyone at all. Jiwoo was almost fifteen, now self-conscious and more withdrawn. She had long outgrown the hugs and kisses he showered on her when she was small.

Donghoon sniffed, his breath ruffling the damp hair on the man’s nape. Now that the urgency had passed, Donghoon could see the strong jaw under the scruff and fine curve of a cheekbone. A good looking man. What a sad thing to have gone through being shot and dumped into the ocean like that. But the stranger was clearly a tough son of a bitch who refused to give up on life. He would pull through, hospital or no.

“Appa, what are you doing?”

Donghoon nearly jumped out of his skin. “Jiwoo-ah, don't sneak up on me like that,” he said, turning his head around to look at her.

“It's been an hour.”

“Ah really?” he glanced back at the stranger, who was no longer shivering and seemed to have fallen asleep, breaths shallow but even. Gingerly, Donghoon rolled out of the bed, tucking the covers back before straightening. “C’mon, Jiwoo,” he said, guiding her out. “We will check on him later. Dinner first.”

--

"Do you think he'll be okay?" Jiwoo asked, chewing around her chopsticks.

“I'll watch over him tonight. He might get a fever. And if things get worse then we"ll take him to the hospital.”

Jiwoo pursed her lips clearly questioning the sanity of his decision but she held her tongue and said instead, eyes gleaming, “Appa, what do you think happened? From his clothes… I'd say he's probably rich. Maybe he’s some rich guy someone tried ro murder for his fortune and he fell off a yatch?”

“There wasn't anything in the pockets? ID? Wallet?”

Jiwoo shook her head then leaned forward conspiratorially. “Do you think he'll be so grateful when he wakes up he would reward us with a few million won?”

Donghoon chuckled, placing some meat into her bowl. “Nice. He'll also be childless and in need of an heir. He'll adopt my precious Jiwoo and we will move into a large house in the suburbs of Seoul and I'll get a Ferrari as a bonus. I’ll be set for life.”

Jiwoo giggled and nudged him under the table with her foot. “Yeah, right.” She sobered and said. “Will he be hungry, do you think? I mean hospitals have IV drips and stuff. What if he doesn't wake up?”

“Then we'll take him to the hospital,'' Donghoon repeated. “Finish up your dinner, Jiwoo. We need to change the bandages soon. He didn’t tell her all the reasons why their new house guest would most likely not want to be in a hospital. Donghoon had to respect his wishes for now. If the stranger didn't wake up by tomorrow or if his condition worsened, the hospital it would have to be.

--

Winter meant less tourists and less business for Donghoon’s little restaurant/cafe - call it whatever you want. The perks of owning your own business were the flexible hours. Since he had almost no customers at all, and with the beach mostly cold and empty, Donghoon closed up and took on odd jobs, repairing this and that. It wasn’t much but he got by and it was something to pass the time. He always had enough put aside during the tourist season, especially the peak of summer, to cover the expenses.

This also meant he had time to play nurse to their new strange friend once Jiwoo had gone to school.

The man did wake up briefly while Donghoon was sponging a damp cloth over his feverish forehead. “Where am I?'' was the first thing he croaked, voice barely a whisper, eyes a slit.

“Safe,” Donghoon assured him. “You have a fever,” and helped him to get some water from a sippy straw. He had a watery juk keeping warm in a pot but the man could not manage more than a few spoons. Donghoon would have asked him more about himself but the man dozed off almost immediately.

Each time he woke up, Donghoon fed him some water, then some broth or juk, coaxed him up so he could change the bandages and inspect the wound for any infections.

When Jiwoo was home, she would help. They had washed all the bloodied towels, along with the man’s clothes, all cleaned and dried.

On the third day, the man didn't fall asleep immediately after Donghoon wiped him down. "What is this place?" His voice was weak but clear and the dullness had faded from his gaze.

"You're in my house. I'm Donghoon. My daughter found you on the beach, do you remember?"

The man didn't reply. “How long was I out?"

Donghoon squeezed water out of the washcloth. “You drifted in and out. But this is the first time you seem to be properly lucid. Actually, this is the fifth time you’ve asked me the same question.” He chuckled. “Your fever broke at least. How are you feeling? Any dizziness? Headaches?”

“No,” the man replied, blinking slowly.

“That’s good. I was worried you might have a concussion. There’s painkillers if you need them. Try not to move. Go back to sleep. I’ll have to change your bandages again in another four hours.” He patted the blankets and adjusted them, tucking the man in.

“Donghoon… I’ll remember this time,” the man said, eyes drifting close. “Thank you, Donghoon.”

Donghoon chanced to ask, "And you? What's your name?"

The stranger's eyes remained closed for so long Donghoon thought he might have fallen asleep. But then the furrow appeared and the man opened his eyes, half masted, thoughtful. He didn’t look at Donghoon.

"I… don't remember."

–

"What do you mean he doesn't remember?" asked Jiwoo, eyes wide as they worked on an old motorbike engine together. They were both seated on low stools, Jiwoo holding up a torch for Donghoon, crouched beside the bike in thick sweaters.

"He doesn't remember anything. Not his name. Not what happened, where he came from, who he was. Nothing." Donghoon grunted. "He did hit his head. Pass me the pliers. The needle nose ones."

"Okay… shouldn't he go to the hospital now? You’re clipping the wrong wire, appa."

"No, I’m not. Look, this is the one you need to connect. He should go to a hospital. You’re right. But I’m not sure if that would be wise. Hopefully it's just temporary.” He didn’t tell Jiwoo that he had already contacted an old friend in the force to look into the tattoo. The man wasn’t from the Narcotics Unit but Donghoon wanted to keep this on a low profile.

Jiwoo puffed her cheeks and pursed her lips. "Sounds like a movie. You believe him?"

Donghoon raised his eyebrows at her. "You have engine oil on your cheek, Jiwoo. He didn’t seem like he was lying." At Jiwoo's skeptical grimace, he grinned and added, "Trust your appa. I have an instinct for these things."

"Well, if he doesn't remember his name… I guess we could give him one for now. We can't keep calling him our guest or that guy." She thought about it. "Let's call him Oh Daesu. He looks like one."

"Oh Daesu was not an amnesiac. No, no. When I was on the force we called all our unidentified victims or perps Hong Gildong."

Jiwoo rolled her eyes. "Boring. Isn't that too generic?"

Donghoon smiled. "You don't want to get attached. Besides, I think it suits him."

A loud crash from the house had both of them turning around in alarm. Jiwoo shot to her feet, always the faster of them to react but Donghoon caught her arm before she could sprint back in.

He forced her behind him as they made their way back into the house. Not because Donghoon thought there was any real threat but old habits die hard.

They found Hong Gildong slumped on the floor against the bed, breathing hard, an overturned chair beside him. He looked up when he saw them. "Sorry," he winced, trying to sit up. "Needed to piss."

Donghoon tucked an arm around him and hoisted him back onto the bed. Jiwoo picked up the chair, biting her lip, eyes darting around the room, wiping her oil stained cheek with one hand and spreading more oil. "Ah, right. This is my daughter, Jiwoo," Donghoon said after a moment as Jiwoo bowed quickly and excused herself. "I guess she's shy," he said, watching Jiwoo's retreating back. Gildong looked confused. "Alright, let's get you up. Sorry about the grime. I was fixing something. One, two, three."

Since Donghoon was already a mess he supposed he could give Hong Gildong the first proper bath he had in a while. It was tricky. The water chilled quickly in this weather and Hong Gildong was still too weak.

“Look at that,” Donghoon exhaled, checking the wound and all the other minor cuts and bruises. The wound had stopped bleeding at least but it would scar badly. He cajoled Gildong into a steaming tub of hot water and unwrapped the bandages around his head. The head wound was doing much better and healing nicely. Gildong withstood all his ministrations with stoic calmness, not even flinching when the water stung his wounds - a man used to pain. Donghoon tried to be as gentle as possible, washing his hair.

“Sorry, if it hurts. The last time I had to bathe someone was Jiwoo… she must have been six? Seven? Time really does fly.”

“It’s alright,” Hong Gildong replies softly as Donghoon pours water over his scalp, massaging lightly. “You have been… very kind to me.”

“I’m sure you would do the same if you found a man half frozen to death. Any luck with remembering anything?”

The man shook his head, blinking slowly. “It’s odd,” he said. “It’s an odd feeling.”

“What’s the last thing you do remember?”

Hong Gildong’s eyes flickered to Donghoon, head tilted back over the edge of the bathtub, “You.”

Donghoon paused. He was suddenly fully aware of his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, shirt and pants covered with streaks of oil. And for the first time, he really noticed the man in his bathtub that he had so easily named - at least in his mind - after a historical outlaw. He couldn’t explain what brought on this awareness but looking down into the man’s clear dark eyes, he was struck by the strange circumstances and even stranger predicament they were both in.

“I should have taken you to the hospital,” Donghoon sighed. “I can still take you. But if you go, we will have to report that gunshot wound to the police. Standard procedure. I’ll be honest, it’s the best bet to finding out your identity. They run your prints and chances are you’ll turn up in a database somewhere.” He studied the tattoo on the man’s chest. Two snakes intertwined eating each other's tails in a never ending circle of life and death. An ouroboros. It didn't seem like just any tattoo. The man could be an ex-gang member or an active one. There could be a warrant out for his arrest for all they knew.

Gildong didn’t reply, he looked tired but thoughtful again. “What do you think I should do, Donghoon?” he asked, catching Donghoon off guard.

“Well, uh,” Donghoon poured more lukewarm water over his head, unsure. He reached blindly for some shampoo, squeezed a small dollop and rubbed his palms together, running his fingers through wet hair. He swallowed. “I suppose you should… just - just stay here. For now. Until you’re better. Then we’ll figure it out. Maybe your memory will come back in a day or two. And if it doesn’t then - then, we’ll, ah. We’ll figure it out,” he added. “Don’t worry.”

Gildong nodded, eyes closed and relaxing a fraction. Only then did Donghoon realise he was tense at all.

He applied fresh bandages, helped Gildong into clean clothes - they were Donghoon’s and were at least two sizes too big. Then he fed the man some painkillers and tucked him back under the covers, promising to wake him up for dinner.

Jiwoo was watching television in the hall with the volume turned down. “I cleared away the tools in the garage,” she said, not looking away from the screen.

“Ah, yes. Thank you, sweetheart.”

Her gaze fell on him. “Are you okay?”

Donghoon stood for a moment, looking outside at the distant waves and the grey skies, drying his hands on a towel and muttering, “I guess we should buy some clothes tomorrow, huh?”

--

As the weeks wore on, Gildong started moving around more. He was strong enough to bathe by himself and walk around the house though he still needed help with changing his bandages. Donghoon was worried he would reopen his wound. His worst fear was that Gildong had internal injuries undetectable to the naked eye but the man’s health seemed to improve without any setbacks growing less sallow and gaunt.

As Gildong sat down for dinner for the first time, Donghoon said, “Gildong, would you like some extra rice?”

“What?” asked Gildong, pausing midway through a bite.

“Oh,” said Jiwoo and quickly stuffed a kimchi into her mouth.

Donghoon realised that up till then he and Jiwoo had only ever referred to him as Gildong between the both of them. He had been careful so far but he was extremely pleased Gildong was out and about and well enough to eat with them.

“Ah,” Donghoon hurried to explain. “We couldn't keep just referring to you as Mister so we uh… We can change it if you don't like it. Maybe you can choose your own.”

“No, Gildong, is it? Gildong is fine.”

“Do you know who Hong Gildong is?” Jiwoo asked tentatively.

“Yes,” Gildong said but he didn't elaborate so they would just have to take his word for it.

“Alright, then. It's settled. Today appa has cooked a lot of food because today is the day Gildong is well enough to eat our table officially,’ Donghoon announced, piling both their bowls. “I’ve really outdone myself, I think. I expect no leftovers.”

“Appa, this is too much,” Jiwoo complained, staring at her bowl while Gildong just said, “Thank you,” and started eating. Bed ridden or not, Gildong wasn’t much of a talker. Donghoon couldn't tell if this was just how the man was or if it was the memory loss. He heard head injuries could cause changes in one's personality. Not having any memory of one's past probably made it difficult to converse much.

That was alright. Donghoon and Jiwoo kept up a friendly chatter about the minimal work he had and her school activities. Occasionally, they would ask Gildong’s opinion on this or that while subtly checking if he was all there. The answers were polite and concise but clear.

Donghoon was relieved.

It was nice to have a guest to break their routine. But even though Gildong was quiet and unobtrusive, Donghoon could see he was getting restless. Judging by his physique, he was a man used to physical activity. And there was only so much that could entertain a grown man in Donghoon’s house.

Jiwoo was around more often than not during winter break and sometimes she and Gildong would go for walks along the beach. She had overcome her initial shyness, both of them trudging along wrapped up in puffy coats, heads down against the evening wind. There was a time when Jiwoo had begged relentlessly for a dog that she could take for walks on the beach. Donghoon snorted and stopped the train of thought. It was not the same thing at all.

When Jiwoo was busy doing teeneager things like holding up in her room, Gildong could be found doing some light exercises on the open air back porch. Donghoon stopped to watch him carefully, just in case he overexerted himself but the man seemed to know his limits.

Once Donghoon caught him air boxing. His stance was good and his jabs were quick and precise. Maybe a little too quick. “Hey,” he said, striding over. “You’re going to pull something.”

“Donghoon-ssi.” Gilsong was sweating

“You're going to get a chill. Aren't you cold?”

“I'm fine.”

But Donghoon insisted he go back in.

“So… boxing, huh? I used to box too,” Donghoon said lightly.

Gildong looked thoughtful for a moment. “It's something that came… naturally.” He eyed Donghoon and widened his stance. “Would you like to go a few rounds with me?”

Donghoon eyebrows shot up. ”Uh… you're still recovering. And I'm, um, vastly out of shape.” The last time he boxed was - well, maybe not since he left the force.

“Then that puts us on even footing.” There was a flash of a smirk and bright challenge in Gildong’s eyes, the most emotion he had displayed in some time.

Donghoon stared and deliberated quickly. Laughing, he shook his head. “Alright. We'll go slow. And just to be extra safe let me dig out my equipment… I swear I stashed those gloves somewhere.”

Half an hour later they were sparring in the living room. Sparring wasn't quite the right word he supposed. Practicing was more like it. Donghoon was definitely the worst one, slow to react and slower to return to form but it was like riding a bicycle - you never really forgot. Muscle memory he supposed.

“Okay,” Donghoon wheezed, hands on his knees. “I think that's enough for today. You might hurt yourself.” Gildong had pulled most of his punches but some still glanced off and smarted. Donghoon was mostly winded from the ducking and weaving he had not done in a decade. His pride had taken a beating but that was all.

Gildong grinned. “You should jog more with Jiwoo and I.”

“Are you saying I need to lose weight?”

“I'm saying some exercise would be good for you.”

“Oh, you punk,” Donghoon growled and seized him by the shoulders. “Did I tell you I was a judo champion as well?” He bared his teeth. He wasn't really going to do anything. Gildong was still recovering so it was a playful threat more than anything else. But one moment Donghoon was staring into Gildong’s amused gaze and the next, his leg went out under him.

He landed on the carpeted floor with an oof, Gildong's weight pinning him down.

In a move worthy of an MMA fighter, Gildong had hooked a leg around his calf and tripped him. “Dirty bastard. I - You… just you wait,” Donghoon sputtered.

“You were saying?” mocked Gildong but he was grinning wide and it lit up his whole face. Took ten years off him. Donghoon gaped and decided to let this indignity slide.

“How can you do this to me in my own house?” He tried to roll them over but he was afraid of hurting Gildong and so didn't use his full strength. The result was as expected. Struggling, Donghoon grunted. “Ah, Gildong-ah let me up -”

“Are you guys fighting?”

They froze. Jiwoo was standing at the entrance of her bedroom staring at them. Her eyes traveled from the boxing gloves to Gildong’s arms locked around his arm and back to Donghoon’s face. Her eyes narrowed with judgment. Gildong hurriedly sat back on his haunches and pushed to his feet. “Appa,” said Jiwoo. “Aren’t you too old for this? What if you sprain your back? Ahjussi, please don't indulge him. You’re not healed."

“Sorry,” said Gildong, contrite.

Donghoon’s face felt warm as he sat up and got slowly to his feet. “Don’t worry Jiwoo, I'm alright. Did we disturb you?”

“I heard a thump and I thought you fell.” She walked over to help him up even though he didn't need it. “If you want to exercise, maybe come jog with me instead.”

Donghoon shot a warning look at Gildong who kept his face straight. Then he winced, hand jumping to his side which had both Jiwoo and Donghoon fussing over him loudly.

Gildong just laughed. He had a nice laugh. It would be nice if he could make Gildong laugh like that everyday. Didn't they say laughter was the best medicine?

--

Boxing, Jiwoo decided, was not a proper exercise for a man who had been shot. Gildong did pull a few stitches and she held Donghoon wholly responsible although she didn't voice it out.

To fill his time, Gildong began asking Donghoon if needed help in his projects. He was not particularly skilled at repairing things though he made good company in the workshop. “I think we can put engineer or mechanic out of your past jobs,” Donghoon laughed when Gildong failed to solder a wire properly.

Perhaps it was best that Gildong learned his way around the kitchen. Donghoon planned to open his restaurant early. Business would be slow still but there wasn't much repair work either and Gildong could use something to fill up his time.

He explained all this to Gildong. “And you can rest a lot in between since I doubt there will be many customers.”

“Right,” said Gildong in his usual calm confidence. Donghoon eyed the way he was grasping the knife warily. He was holding it just a little too firmly but his movements were fluid and sure. Donghoon had noticed the gun and knife calluses on his hands, both left and right, more pronounced on the right which only solidified his opinion on the man’s history of violence.

“We're just doing prep today. Let’s have a go.” He stood back and watched Gildong select an onion with care.

Turns out being skilled in handling knives didn't translate into slicing onions evenly. “What do you think?” asked Gildong sniffling, rubbing his teary eyes with one sleeve looking the least composed as Donghoon had ever seen him.

“You'll improve with practice,'' said Donghoon, examining the mess on the board. He laughed. He couldn't help it.

Gildong pulled a face and shrugged.

“I'll show you alright. Watch carefully, Gildong-ssi.” Donghoon rolled up his sleeves. He wasn't above showing off. Jiwoo would have mocked him but Gildong just watched with a frown of concentration. “Tuck your fingers in like this when you slice. Go slowly.”

Gildong nodded. He was a fast learner and highly analytical. The next onion was sliced with careful deliberation and although he was slow, he was getting the hang of things.

Donghoon put him to work after that, menial things like peeling garlic onions, and potatoes. There was lots of dicing to be done. He taught Gildong how to toss with a pan, taking his wrist in a lax grip and guiding him through the motions.

“Where did you learn how to cook?” asked Gildong, giving up and reaching for the knife he was clearly more comfortable with.

“My mother taught me the basics. I was the youngest and helped her out the most in the kitchen. Then well, when it was just Jiwoo and me, there wasn’t much choice but to learn.” That had been a struggle in the beginning. It wasn't that he was a bad cook, he just wasn't a good one. Jiwoo thankfully wasn't a picky eater. She just gobbled up whatever Donghoon put in front of her. Time had led to much improvement. “To think a lousy cook like me would one day run a restaurant,” Donghoon marveled aloud. “Pretty amazing, huh?

“Yes,” Gildong agreed. “When will I get to see this fabled restaurant?”

He was getting cheekier although you couldn't really tell since he had such a deadpan delivery. “Very soon. Enjoy your free time now while you can Hong Gildong. The name still felt weird to say outloud but in a fun way. Like a private joke.

“I see you only saved me for the free labour,” Gildong sighed

“Damn, right,” but he cuffed Gildong on the back of the head, earning a surprised yelp. The man stared at him wide eyed like he had never been hit in his life. Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he was the guy who did most of the hitting. Donghoon grinned and ruffled his hair as a Gildong scowled.

--

Business as he suspected was slow but not as slow as expected. A few people dropped by. Mostly Jiwoo and her classmates after extra classes. Then there were the ladies - mothers to Jiwoo's friend. Donghoon could not help but notice the significant increase in female customers despite the weather still being as cold as it was. He served hot dumplings and jigae, simple fare that the women were more than capable of making on their own at home.

“Donghoon-ssi, who's the new man?”

Donghoon smiled knowingly. “A friend from out of town. He's a little down on his luck so he's staying with me for a while.”

The women glanced surreptitiously at the counter where Gildong sat on a high stool. Donghoon had taught him how to work the cashier and wasn't above sticking him out front to attract customers. He understood the appeal. It wasn’t just that Gildong was handsome, he had an aura to him that drew the eye. What was that called? Charm? Charisma? Even in a simple flannel shirt and a thick jacket, he stood out.

“Aish, Donghoon-ssi, would you introduce us? What's his name?”

“He’s very sensitive about his name. You might laugh.”

Mrs Beom tugged him closer from where he was putting a bowl down. “What is it?” she asked conspiratorially.

Gildong was looking at their table with a frown.

Donghoon told them and they all giggled, telling him what a joker he was. He managed to escape with a few good natured swats.

“You're very popular,” remarked Gildong thoughtfully when Donghoon came round to check on him.

“Nah, I’m not the one bringing in customers.” He grinned at Gildong but the man didn't smile back. Donghoon eyed him with a critical once over. “You feeling alright? If you’re hurting or tired, you need to let me know.” The silence stretched a little longer than comfortable. Donghoon followed Gildong’s line of sight back to the women at the table. “Most of them are married. I know their husbands. Except for Jihyo-ssi who is a single mother and Mrs Jang who got divorced last year. It's a small town.” He felt compelled to add just in case Gildong thought he was the type to butt his nose into other people’s business.

Gildong simply said, “I see.”

When the women had paid, dithering at the counter to introduce themselves and then left in a cloud of chatter and perfume, Gildong asked, “If you don’t mind me asking, Donghoon-ssi, what happened to Jiwoo’s mother?”

Donghoon's eyebrows went up.

“Sorry, if that was intrusive,” Gildong added quickly, face tinged red.

“Ah, no. It's alright. She left.” He smiled at the look on Gildong’s face. The man really had the most expressive eyes. “It was a long time ago. My fault really. It’s a bit of a cliche. I wasn’t home much. Too busy with work. Came back one day to find she had packed her clothes and was just gone.”

“I’m sorry.”

Donghoon waved off his apology. “I wasn’t a good husband. I hope she’s happy wherever she is. But I thank my lucky stars every day that she left me Jiwoo.”

“Have you ever thought of marrying again?”

“Yes. Sometimes. But it wasn't anything more than a passing thought. Just Jiwoo and I are enough.”

Gildong’s eyes soften. He swallowed a few times. “Donghoon-ssi -” A customer appeared, interrupting them.

“Later then, yeah?” Donghoon mouthed. And stood to greet the customer.

--

Things moved at a strange pace in the wintertime. The days felt oddly long even when it seemed to grow dark so much quicker.

At Jiwoo’s insistence, Donghoon eventually went for a jog with her at least twice a week in the mornings. She and Gildong kept up to their daily evening walk still, two lone figures stuffed into puffy coats and traipsing along the beach in weather most people would avoid. They were rather similar in temperament, both had a tendency to be moody and reserved but when least expected, could also be bright and talkative.

“Whose child are you?” Donghoon grumbled, watching from the porch. Unexpectedly this evening, he spotted Jiwoo attempting some sort of punch kick combo with Gildong correcting her stance. He watched them for a few long minutes. The dormant cop part of himself recognised those moves as a mixture of boxing, karate and jujitsu and was immediately interested. The parental part of himself was immediately apprehensive.

“How were classes today?” He asked Jiwoo after dinner. This wasn't Seoul where students could fill their holidays by signing up for hagwon but Jiwoo's school did offer extra classes a few times a week for interested students.

“The usual. Oh, a bird got into the classroom. So that was interesting.”

“Good, good….” Donghoon nodded wondering how else to breach the topic. He peered at Jiwoo's books. She was doing algebra. Donghoon grimaced. Maths was never his strong point but still he asked, “Do you need help?”

“No, I got it.”

“Okay.” He dithered and sat down. “So uh… I saw you and Gildong on the beach today.”

“Mm hm?”

“Training.”

Jiwoo stopped writing and looked exasperated. “It’s just some basic moves, appa.”

“If you want to learn self defense, you could rejoin the taekwondo club.”

“Gildong says if you really want to incapacitate someone you have to attack their weak points.”

“Really,” he said, trying to keep his tone neutral. “And what are a person's weak points?”

She pushed her chair back and stretched towards him. “Here,” her pen tapped him on the temple. “Here,” a tap on the upper lip. “Chin, solar plexus,” she tapped his chin then poked him gently in the gut before sliding back into her seat. “And genitals.”

Donghoon froze.

“They don't teach you that in taekwondo,” she said, watching him carefully.

He took a deep breath to calm himself and said, “That's not something you need to learn. Or use. Why would you want to learn that?”

“Well, you never know…. It might come in handy.”

“Jiwoo, be honest with me, is someone in school giving you a hard time?”

“No!”

Donghoon pressed on. “You’re still friends with that girl Gyuri right? Isn't she in judo? Why not take up judo lessons?”

“Appa, I'm not interested in judo lessons.”

“I don't understand, Jiwoo. There's very few scenarios in which a normal person would need to use these moves. In what scenario are you imagining -”

“Normal people don’t run away from their home, forced to cut off ties with everyone they know. Normal people don't have to change their identities because their dad was an undercover cop whose cover got blown! Normal people don’t grow up with an overprotective paranoid adult -”

“That was just the first few years and I was being careful.” Despite his best efforts, his voice was getting louder. Jiwoo didn’t mean it, he was sure, but her outburst cut him deeply. His normally stoic daughter rarely showed her resentment. She had only been eight when Donghoon left everything in Seoul with her. He hadn’t thought it affected her this much. “Jiwoo,'' he said weakly. “We're not in danger any longer.”

Jiwoo shook her head. “This is why I don’t tell you things. You always overreact.”

That was unfair and uncalled for. Surely not always. “Jiwoo, I - “

“Bathroom's available…. Is everything alright?" Gildong asked, drying his hair with a towel. He stopped and caught the charged atmosphere a second too late, gaze flickering between them.

Jiwoo stared at Donghoon for a moment, her eyes bright and watery. Then, she grabbed her books and stormed into her room slamming the door shut.

“Shit,” muttered Donghoon with a sigh, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Gildong, may I have a word, please?”

They sat out on the porch, Gildong wrapped in an old sweater, breath misting the air.

“How's the wound?” Donghoon asked.

“Healing.”

“That’s good.” He looked around while chewing on his words. The beach stretched out to the lapping waves, sea dark enough that it blended with the night sky. In the distance, lights twinkled from fishing vessels like luminescent fish. “Gildong-ah, do you know why I stay in a house on the beach?”

“Because… you like the beach?” ventured Gildong

“There’s that, yeah, but also because you can see someone coming from a mile away." He sighed, rubbing his hands together for warmth. Gildong was huddled in on himself, hands tucked into his armpits. “I used to be a cop, you know. Way before all of this. Undercover for ten years on and off. I was in a few gangs and moving up, trying to get closer to the big fishes, the real movers and shakers. Had a few close calls. Nearly died a couple of times.” He huffed a laugh, self-deprecating and humorless. “It just got too much when Hyori left.... Then shit really hit the fan and I realised I couldn’t keep living like that. Jiwoo didn’t have anyone else. What if something happened to me?”

He expected Gildong to ask more but the man was just listening attentively, without judgment.

“I don't want Jiwoo to ever get mixed up in anything that will need her to… hurt others like that. That’s not self-defense.”

“It is if you use it right.”

Donghoon shot him a pointed look. Gildong gazed back calmly. “You trust your daughter, don’t you? There’s no harm in learning anything so long as she uses it responsibly. You can use a knife to cut vegetables or you can use it to stab someone.”

It was so close to Donghoon’s earlier line of thought that he wondered if Gildong could read his mind. “You have a funny way with words.”

Gildong shrugged. “I know you can’t help but see her as a little girl. But she’s going to be an adult someday.”

Donghoon mulled this over this, feeling deeply dissatisfied but also unable to rebut in any way. It was a solid argument and he couldn’t explain his reticence. It was just one of those wholly illogical feelings like jealousy or anxiety that upon closer look withered into nothing. “Maybe… I am overreacting,” he admitted. “You’ll let me know won't you, if she’s having trouble at school?”

“Donghoon-ssi,” Gildong said, stopping him. “You’re a good father. Don't worry too much. Jiwoo's smart. And she knows you have her back. She'll come to you if she really needs help.”

Gildong’s face was earnest. Donghoon tried to swallow past the sudden lump in his throat, feeling strangely touched by his simple words. He nodded and tried to smile. “Sorry for dragging you out here. Let's go inside.”

--

Between running the restaurant and managing his tiny household, the long winter days of December were suddenly, and abruptly, at an end. The temperature dipped further. The skies became grayer and the seas stormier. There were reports of snow but none fell.

As a special treat, they spent the new year’s eve setting up a bonfire on the beach. Donghoon prepared a small barbecue and took a portable stove out so they could have a picnic while setting off fireworks.

“Are you sure you wouldn't rather be spending time with your friends, Jiwoo?” he asked his daughter as she rolled up blankets and a mat.

“No. It's more fun with you, appa. And Gildong-ssi.” She had a small smile on her face but her excitement was evident. The last time they had a bonfire on the beach, Jiwoo had just started middle school. Before that it had been their yearly thing. Now they had Gildong to join their small party.

“Okay, then. Remember to wear a lot of layers. The news says it’ll get really cold at night.” He ruffled her hair. The house wasn't far so if they needed anything extra either one of them could make a quick run for it. For Gildong, he assigned the man to carry a box of fireworks he’d been saving. Usually Donghoon bought a bunch here and there and kept them away until each festival. He had rockets, Catherine wheels, sparklers - the lot.

Gildong’s eyes went wide when he saw the stash. “Is this one of your side businesses?” He asked, holding a box as Donghoon selected from the small pile and loaded it up.

“No. Jiwoo loves them. She never got a chance to play with any in the city so now,” he chuckled sheepishly. “I spoil her.”

Gildong didn’t say anything else, listening calmly as Donghoon gave him some instructions and reminders on wearing a lot of layers.

Once it was close to sunset. They packed everything up and headed to the beach. It was as cold as could possibly be in midwinter. Donghoon took a few trips back and forth to the house while Jiwoo attempted to scour the beach for more wood. They had piled some firewood and driftwood together earlier in the day but it was always better to have more wood. Past experience had taught them that you never could quite gauge how much wood you would burn through in one sitting.

They got a nice blaze going as the sun drifted down. Donghoon and Jiwoo battled over who would man the grill while Gildong seemed content to sit back and watch them claiming that they were already too many cooks. Donghoon let Jiwoo have half a can of beer. Despite the cold, the company of two people who were usually not keen conversationalist, and having to run back to the house a few times for forgotten items, they had a great time of it; lighting up the night sky way before midnight and filling the air with shrill bangs and hoots of excitement. Somewhere in the distance other people were playing fireworks in town and it added to the sense of camaraderie.

The cloudless night sky brought a further drop in temperature. Sparks whipped up and floated in the air from the cold cutting wind rolling off the sea. Once the fire had died down to embers and all the fireworks had burned out, Donghoon packed up and carried a sleepy Jiwoo to bed. She protested as he tucked her in but then she fell back to sleep. Donghoon closed her door gently and let himself out to the porch, sitting down next to Gildong with a bottle of soju.

Gildong handed him a cigarette in exchange for a cup of warmed soju with a grateful thanks. "Jiwoo’s asleep?"

"Just about,” Donghoon said, wondering where Gildong got the cigarettes. Donghoon had broken the habit after much effort and only smoked occasionally now. There was a hint of a moon, bright as a silver dish through a powder of stars. One thing he never got tired of seeing after all these years. “You'd never see a sky like this in Seoul,” Donghoon said, grinning as he turned to Gildong, lifting his glass.

Gildong did the same, their glasses clinking before he looked away, gazing out onto the mounting waves in the distance and taking a sip. Donghoon studied the faraway look on his face and nudged him, shoulder to shoulder. “Thanks for keeping Jiwoo company when I’m not around. I don't get to spend a lot of time with her. I was worried she might be lonely. She's been smiling more now.”

“She's a good kid.”

“I sure hope so. If not it's all on me, I guess. It can't be helped. Sometimes I wish I was a woman. Then I could be her eomma. Maybe she'd open up more.” He chuckled. “Ah, I shouldn't complain. I'm lucky. Everyday I think to myself I'm so lucky to be her dad.”

Gildong was smiling now, nodding along.” She's more like you than you would think.”

“You ever think you might have kids? Maybe a wife is waiting for you somewhere.”

Gildong rubbed absently on his bare ring finger. “No. There isn't anyone,” he said with a finality that had Donghoon pausing, choosing his next words with care.

“Gildong-ah, when you’re up for it, when you're ready, let's try to find your family. Someone out there must booking for you.” He patted Gildong’s arm and took a slow drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs. But if you don't want to…. I'm not going ro force you. You can stay here. Me and Jiwoo will always welcome you. You know that right?”

Gildong glanced towards him, eyes bright and soft. He wasn't smiling, the curve of his lips somehow vulnerable. Absently Dpnghoon noted his hair was getting a little long, loose strands sweeping over his brow as Gildong edged close and kissed him.

Donghoon didn't mean to tense but he did not know how else to react. The scent of cigarettes and soju lingered briefly before Gildong pulled away.

“Sorry,” he said, not looking at Donghoon, opting to take a nervous puff, releasing a stream of smoke into the air.

Donghoon shook himself. “It's okay.” He didn't know what else to say. His cheeks were already red from the cold and the alcohol, but now they burned hot. Gildong still wasn't looking at him as he handed the glowing cigarette back. Donghoon stuck the cigarette between his lips, puffed heavily while he gathered his thoughts. That was extremely bold. Despite his personality, Donghoon was never as impulsive or reckless. He didn't kiss his wife until their third date. Plus, Donghoon was a man. If their positions were reversed, Donghoon would never have dared.

“Sorry,” Gildong said again. “We should go inside. It's getting colder.” He made to stand but Domghoon pressed a hand to his arm.

“It's okay really. I was just surprised, that's all. Didn't think…” He didn't finish the sentence because Gildong was staring at him now, gaze hopeful and Donghoon didn't know what to do with that. “It’s fine,” he said again, withdrawing his band as Gildong slowly sat back down. “Here,” he topped up Gildong's glass with more soju.

“Thanks. Donghoon-hyung. I mean it.” Gildong was looking at his glass, swirling the liquid around until a little whirlpool formed. “You're a really good person. That's why I….” He cut himself off and downed the soju instead, ears and neck flushed.

“Yeah,” said Donghoon. “I'm the best. Who else would be this nice to a suspicious person like you?” To which Gildong laughed, breaking the strange atmosphere into something light and easy once more.

They sat pressed together in the cold, picking up a thread of conversation, talking about everything and nothing until the soju was all but gone.

--

Things should have descended into awkwardness.

They didn't.

Life carried on as usual. Gildong seemed content in his place among the Yoon household. It was odd that the man didn't seem all that interested in finding out about his past but Donghoon tried to put himself in Gildong’s shoes. Maybe it was an instinctual avoidance, his mind refusing to remember something terrible. And if he did find out, what then? Knowledge and memories were not the same thing. Wouldn't it be like looking at someone else's life instead of your own?

So Donghoon didn't push. He hadn't heard back from his old biddy on the force but that was to be expected. Those men were busy and Donghoon’s inquiry would not be a priority.

A part of him was glad that things were lining up to Gildong staying long term. He liked having Gildong around. He enjoyed his company and conversation. He noticed as well Jiwoo's growing attachment. She behaved differently with Gildong, more mature and thoughtful, she valued his opinion more than Donghoon's sometimes as if being an outsider meant Gildong had an unbiased insight into her teenage girl problems.

“Gildong takes me seriously,” Jiwoo pointed out unrepentantly when he voiced this.

“I take you seriously too!”

“All you do is tease me.”

“But I also offer you good advice, yeah?”

“Gildong’s is better,” Jiwoo said firmly. “Don't worry, appa, you will always be my favourite,” she added, patting his shoulder.

“She doesn’t want to worry you, that's all,” Gildong said later in the evening after dropping Jiwoo off at a Gyuri’s place for a sleepover. Donghoon had no idea why teenage girls were obsessed with sleeping over at each other's houses. They made a whole fanfare out of it like it was a festival.

“You don't think there's boys coming, do you?” he asked Gildong on the way home.

“Jiwoo says it’s just her, Minhee and Gyuri. We should trust her.” It took Donghoon a whole semester to keep track of Jiwoo’s friends. For a while he was even worried she didn’t have any. He shot a glance at Gildong.

“What?”

“Nothing,” said Donghoon.

Gildong chuckled. “Don't get jealous. I have practically nothing else to fill my head or my time. There's lots of empty space for details like that.”

“I didn't say anything.”

Gildong just shrugged and smiled. When they were home Donghoon heated up some simple leftover food for dinner and opened a few cans of beer. It felt strange without Jiwoo around but the night's reprieve was not unwelcomed. He turned on the television and brought the food out to the living room. Their back and forth conversation kicked off as normal, comfortable even; Gildong seated beside him on the couch, a respectable foot away.

Ever since he confessed to Donghoon, he had been careful with his touches, consciously or not. Maybe Donghoon was the same and had just been lying to himself that nothing had changed. He tried not to think about it now. They watched a baseball game, the atmosphere was fairly relaxed. Occasionally, Donghoon would text Jiwoo and receive a funny picture in return.

The game ended. Donghoon changed the channels until it landed on an old movie one that he remembered vaguely. “Ah,” he exclaimed, half exasperated at the memory and half fond. “You know this was the movie I watched with Jiwoo's mother on our first date. She was crazy about Lee Sunghyun.”

Gildong shook his head. “How very typical of you.”

“It's not a bad movie. I cried.”

“I thought you would have been paying more attention to your date than the movie.”

Donghoon laughed. “That explains a lot doesn't it? Say Gildong, do you recall the movies you've seen?”

Gildong thought about this. “I didn’t watch many movies, I think.” He settled down to watch Lee Sunghyun arguing passionately with his onscreen co-star.

“Aish, change the channel. This is bringing back too much nostalgia.”

“No. You said it was a good movie,” Gildong insisted, tucking the remote in his folded arms and doubling down with a half smile on his face.

“You're torturing me.” Donghhon waited a moment pretending to stare at the screen. Then he turned and grabbed for the remote but Gildong was expecting this and twisted away, fast and slippery as an eel.

“Hyung, please stop - we are too old for this. Jiwoo would be disappointed to see her appa behaving like this,” Gildong wheezed as they wrestled on the couch, one hand fending off Donghoon.

“Who says I'm old?” Donghoon growled. “And I'm dead serious.” He wrapped an arm around Gildong and hauled him forwards, hand wrapping around the remote at last. Gildong didn’t freeze but he went quiet, then almost immediately tried to reset the shift in atmosphere but the split second was enough to charge their proximity on the couch into something else.

Donghoon stared into Gildong’s dark eyes, his handsome face, feeling helpless and ridiculous. We're too old for this the words repeated in his mind. He swallowed.

Gildong pulled away first with the beginnings of an apology but Donghoon cut him off, tugging him back by his collar. Heart loud in his throat, Donghoon hesitated for three heartbeats before sliding a hand into Gildong’s hair and leaning forward. Gildong made a soft surprised sound, his body stiff inder Donghoon's hands. He tasted faintly of salt and beer; Donghoon didn't dare do more than press their lips together, mind blank. It had been so long he kissed someone, and he had never kissed a man before.

Gildong's nose nudged along his as he shifted, his breath warm on Donghoon’s lips as they parted. He slid onto Donghoon’s lap with easy grace, gaze half lidded but no less intense and took Donghoon’s mouth again with unexpected confidence. His palms were warm on Donghoon’s cheeks cradling his head as they kissed. In contrast, Donghoon’s own hands were cold, unsure, roving restlessly from Gildong’s hips to the small of his back.

It was different. Donghoon didn't know if it was because he was kissing a man or because it was Gildong. The roughness of it wasn’t just from stubble; he could taste Gildong’s hunger, feel how much he was holding himself in check, even as he took control of their kisses turning them open mouth, needier and more intense than the half remembered kisses Donghoon had shared with his previous lovers.

Gildong edged closer, his hard length pressed against Donghoon’s hip. That surprised him too. That Gildong was turned on by this - by him. Donghoon was far from his youthful trim days as a police officer and even then he wasn’t even close to the same league as the man currently straddling him. The undeniable proof of attraction struck Donghoon like a match to gasoline, pooling hot in his lower belly and twisting it into knots.

He gasped into Gildong’s mouth, feeling himself hardening as the man dropped his weight more firmly into Donghoon’s lap to pull his sweater off. Underneath he was wearing one of Donghoon’s old button down shirts. He had always liked the way Gildong looked in his oversized shirts but never allowed the appreciation to translate into something more before or perhaps, more accurately he hadn’t realised what that curl of pleasure meant until now.

“Is this okay?” Gildong asked. He rested his broad hand on Donghoon's stomach then drifted lower.

“Yeah,” Donghoon said, even if his stomach did loops. He was half afraid his erection would give up on him as Gildong unbuttoned his jeans and grasped his cock. But the worry was only nerves. It had been so long since anyone had done this to him that just a gentle grip had him shuddering, cock jumping in Gildong’s warm palm.

Gildong kissed him softly, hand pumping up and down until Donghoon groaned, throbbing and hot. He didn't stop even as he worked himself out of his own jeans one handed. Donghoon stared, heavy lidded and gasping at the flushed leaking shaft. He had seen plenty of cocks before, in the marines, in the police barracks, showers, locker rooms, suspects being stripped naked for a search, porn. None of them had been a subject of sexual focus.

He still had trouble wrapping his mind around how a cock could be attractive but one thing he couldn’t deny was that Gildong looked good. He always looked good no matter what he did. Even now, especially now, eyes half mast, face flushed and breathing hard while stroking himself.

“I don't have lube,” Donghoon stammered. “I mean… I have lube but it's, uh, in the bedroom. Maybe we should -”

“It's okay,” Gildong said, shifting close, eyes warm. His forehead pressed against Donghoon's, hair tickling his skin as he rocked his hips.

Donghoon groaned, hands grasping Gildong’s arm as their cocks slid together. It was a little dry but Gildong gripped them tight, smearing precome over both their lengths, the slide became slick and easy after a moment, soft pants and groans filling the room.

Gildong had one hand brace on the back of the couch for leverage as he rolled his hips, the head of his cock catching against Donghoon’s and scattering a starburst of pleasure deep inside.

“How are you so good at this?” Donghoon grumbled, holding on to his hips, trying and failing to match Gildong’s rhythm.

Gildong laughed breathlessly. “I've had experience I guess,” and he grinned wild and reckless, and Donghoon watched him move, his own face flaming, his heartbeat soaring. It felt as natural as breathing to tug Gildong down for a kiss, hand in his loose collar. Donghoon closed his eyes and followed his desire, dragged his mouth down Gildong’s neck, then even lower, plucking open the buttons of his shirt to reveal skin lightened by lack of exposure to the sun. His face was burning but Donghoon pushed aside his embarrassment to mouth the sweaty skin, tracing his tongue over the swirls of dark ink, snakes curling around one another in a sensual dance. The heat was unbearable.

“Hyung”, Gildong groaned, as Donghoon held his breath, his heart ricocheting in his chest. Daring in a way he never would have been with anyone else, Donghoon undid another button.

Gildong gasped as Donghoon kissed and sucked bruises into his skin, mouthed his nipple, feeling it harden under his tongue. The shuddering moan Gildong made shot straight to his core, a surge of electricity, urgent and demnading. Donghoon rubbed his heated face against his muscled chest, not quite believing he had done that and wanting to do it again. Above him Gildong shivered his chest flushing further from stubble burn and started to work them both faster.

He pushed Donghoon back onto the couch, looking truly wild and desperate now. “You always surprise me, Donghoon.” The drop in formality seared through him but Donghoon didn't have time to dwell on it, couldn't have thought about anything else but the hot feel of Gildong’s palm jerking him off, blood roaring in his ears.

When Donghoon came, mouth open on a groan, he felt as if the world had flattened and popped back into shape. pleasure so intense it made his toes curl. The disorientation wasn't from the orgasm itself but the revelation that sex could be this enjoyable with a man. There was spunk on his face; Gildong’s or his, Donghoon couldn't care less. He felt wholly unmoored, and embarrassed about his past preconceptions, his previous inhibitions. He couldn’t help but think back on every remark, every taunt and jest he had made throughout his life.

“Am I gay now?” he asked muzzily, staring at the ceiling.

Gildong actually laughed. “Don’t think too hard. You might hurt yourself,” he mocked and got shakily to his feet. He found the tissue box under the coffee table and handed a few pieces to Donghoon before wiping himself clean.

“Shower?” Gildong asked. His tone was casual but his eyes held a trace of unease, like he was bracing himself for rejection, like he thought Donghoon would take his pleasure and then discard him. Donghoon wondered how and when did he become an expert at reading Gildong or whether it was his own insecurities he was projecting onto the man.

He huffed, shaking the thoughts aside. “I'd like that,” and reached for Gildong’s hand.

--

Was it love?

Donghoon didn't think so. He had been in love many times. He knew what he was like when he was in love - excited, reckless, silly, a little obsessed. He spent money he didn't have buying gifts that his girlfriends appreciated but didn't need.

This thing with Gildong was different. It was quieter. Tentative.

Maybe because it was new in a way Domghoon never experienced before. Maybe he had been burned enough times that his heart was a little charred. Maybe he was just getting old.

But there was something. If they had time. If Gildong stayed. If Donghoon could keep him here in this slow and quiet part of the world he had made for himself and Jiwoo.

He could see it. In the way Gildong laughed, his eyes gleaming bright and wrinkling at the corners, the warm solid touch of his strong hands, the low murmur of his voice when he nestled up against Domghoon on late nights, just the two of them awake.

He could see it the way he used to see the beach house with him and Jiwoo.

Now Gildong was a part of it.

Donghoon was careful with such thoughts; he was a romantic at heart but he knew how unpredictable life was. How good things were fleeting and tragedy lurked just around every corner.

And he was right to be wary because late January, Donghoon got a call from Cha Giho.

--

Cha Giho had grown a lot balder and a lot paunchier in the past eight years since Donghoon saw him but his friend still carried that air of calm determination apparent in the set of his shoulders and the curve of his eyes. He smiled warmly and took both of Donghoons hands in a firm shake.

“Joonsu, you haven't changed a bit. How have you been? How's Jiwoo?”

Donghoon's smile tightened at the slip, not quite a grimace and Giho paused, apologetic. “My mistake. Donghoon, how are things?”

“I'm good. Jiwoo's growing non-stop and eating me out of my house.” He grinned and sat, bowing politely as the waitress came to take their order. They exchanged pleasantries for a while, Donghoon inquiring about all his former colleagues. He hadn't kept in touch with many people since he left the force - only a few here and there. It just didn't feel right.

"You didn't have to come all the way here, Giho. I could have made the trip to Seoul or you know we have email.” He rubbed the back of his head. “When I made the request, I was hoping not to bother you. That’s why I asked Seonkyu instead. I heard they made you Head of Narcotics. You must be busy.”

Giho smiled. Donghoon got the feeling he didn't smile often now. “When I heard you were asking for information, I jumped at the chance. I wanted to see you," he said simply. “Made sure you were doing alright given how things went… I should have come sooner but like you said I am busy and I am old and well, you'll forgive an old friend won't you?” He chuckled.

Donghooon shook his head grinning “Alright, what do you have for me?”

Giho reached under the table and pulled out a manila folder that was on the chair beside him. He shook out the papers inside and spread them across the table.

“The symbol you asked about… that tattoo. It's Dongcheon. Have you heard of them?”

Donghoon reached for the photo a shot of the left pectoral of a man, the black thick ink in stark relief over pale skin, right over the man's heart exactly like Gildong’s. "Dongcheon? Rings a bell but I don’t really remember,” he said honestly. There were so many gangs operating in Seoul, Donghoon only recalled a dozen or so that were important or violent enough to mark themselves in his memory.

“They were up and coming during your time. Still relatively small. If things hadn't gone south and you hadn’t… well, they would have been your next assignment.”

“Really?” said Donghoon with renewed interest. He skimmed through a brief report about the gang's activities, face growing more serious as he read.

"Dongcheon’s really grown since.” Giho explained. “They are major players in the drug trade. Human trafficking, gambling, prostitution, racketeering. You name it, they've got a slice of the pie. They have legitimate business contacts as well. Highly organised, highly disciplined.” He tapped on the images of several men in sharply dressed suits. The photos were taken from a distance. “But mainly it's drugs, specifically meth. The Japanese, Russians and Chinese triads are all involved. They've gone international.”

Donghoon felt the muscles in his jaw tighten, he forced himself to unclench his teeth. This was far more serious than he expected. Dongcheon was far from your small town street gang. Gildong was mixed up in some bad shit.

“Is there a reason you are looking into this?”

“Sorry, what?”

“Why the sudden interest? Don’t get me wrong. I have no qualms sharing information. I also didn't want to ask you over the phone in case this was private… But,” Giho lowered his voice. “Are you in trouble? You can tell me. I’ll help you.”

“Ah, no, no, not at all,” Donghoon assured him. He already had a story prepared for this eventuality and the lie rolled easily off his tongue. “A neighbour's daughter is dating this young man and the mother suspects he might be in a gang. She saw the tattoo. She was complaining to me about it. I just wanted to know how serious it might be. I'm an ex-cop after all and I've known this girl since she was in middle school. I don’t want her to get into trouble.”

Giho sighed in understanding. “What is up with these young girls and dating bad boys? Tell her to break it off. Dating any gangster is a bad idea.” Giho suddenly paled, eyes going wide. “This isn't some euphemism for Jiwoo is it? Donghoon -”

“No, no, no, Jiwoo would never. She's only fourteen. It’s just a small matter. That's why I didn't want you to trouble yourself, Giho,” Donghoon said earnestly.

Giho looked relieved with a smile breaking on his face. “No trouble. I hope this information can help you talk the girl down. Dongcheon is on shaky ground and word on the street is there might be an all out gang war soon.”

“Why?”

“This is all hearsay. Rumor is Dongcheon’s leader is either dead or dying. I have my men with one ear on the ground but no confirmation yet.”

“Dongcheon would want to keep it quiet of course.”

“So far it seems to be business as usual. All I know is we haven't had a sighting of Choi Mujin since November. That's been nearly two months? But who’s to say the man can't take a holiday.”

Something clicks in Donghoon’s head, his pulse starting to race. The possibility was slim. Very slim. Gangsters disappeared all the time. But Gildong’s clothes, his suit… that wasn't something a simple gang member could afford.

He sifted through the photographs until his eyes landed on a familiar face, hidden behind dark glasses, the sharp cut of his jaw in profile hair slicked back, an expensive suit under a heavy coat. There were likewise sharp suited men around him like an army ready to throw their lives away at the slightest hint of danger.

“That's the bastard,” Giho said unprompted, taking a sip of coffee. “Choi Mujin.”

--

Donghoon didn't know what to think as he took the bus home. He couldn’t ask for the file on Mujin. That would be too suspicious. Besides, he was just a civilian. Giho was already pushing his luck bringing confidential information to Donghoon but he did give Donghoon some info which would be available to the public through online news sites.

The face reflected in the bus window was expressionless, just a hint of tightness around the eyes. Donghoon sniffed, his mind flitting from one thought to another trying to make sense of it all.

He had known or suspected at least that Gildong was in some gang but to see the proof laid out in front of him and know that he wasn't just some ordinary gang member but head of one of the biggest organised crime syndicates in Korea. He still had trouble believing it.

He didn't want to believe it.

The list of Dongcheon’s illegal activities could stretch as long as Donghoon's arm. They were ruthless, vicious highly organised monsters, leaving broken lives in their wake for profit and power. Gangs like these were the reason Donghoon joined narcotics to begin with and were also the reason he had to retire early.

He felt numb as he got off the bus and began the trek home from town. It was freezing but he didn't know if it was the ice in his veins or if it really was that cold.

What could have landed Choi Mujin on that beach? A deal gone sour on a shipping vessel? Some failed hit by his own subordinates? Was he tossed overboard on purpose?

Did any of it matter?

Donghoon didn't know if he believed in God but someone up there really didn't want Choi Mujin to die.

The question was what did he do now? Muijin didn't remember who he was and there was a chance he might never remember. The cop named Song Joonsu wanted to drag Choi Mujin to the nearest police station right away and have him arrested but the man Donghoon was now was still in denial, still trying to justify keeping Gildong. After all, would it be fair to prosecute a person who didn't even remember his crimes?

A voice argued back; just because Gildong didn’t remember does not erase his past actions.

The beach house loomed ahead and Donghoon slowed his steps. Jiwoo was still at her extra classes. Good. He didn't want her around for this - whatever this was. Donghoon didn't know yet. He wished he could erase the past two hours. He couldn't make a decision. He wished he never answered Giho's call. He wished he had never tried to look into Gildong’s past.

Gildong must have seen him coming from the window because the door opened before Donfhoon was even up the porch.

“Donghoon-hyung, welcome back,” greeted Gildong.

Donghoon’s jaw tightened, pressure building in his throat and behind his eyes. Gildong looked so soft and warm in his loose jumper over worn jeans, hair mussed, beard needing a trim. He knew better than anyone the duality of human nature but his mind still protested or it was more correct to say, his heart protested.

“Hyung… are you alright?” Gildong asked slowly. He had been holding the door open for more than a minute.

“Yes, sorry.” Donghoon entered his steps heavy, his heart heavier.

“Something happened,” Gildong said, his eyes roaming over Donghoon’s face, assessing and sharp as ever.

Donghoon turned away to hang up his jacket all the while debating his next move. He should tell Gildong. He should tell him the truth and leave it to the man himself to decide. If he didn’t remember then well, it would be like learning the life of someone else. Or maybe Gildong himself suspected there was something dark lurking in his memories, and that was why he never actively pursued his past, content to let it go.

He could wait a few more days. Sleep on the information and decide when he was in a calmer frame of mind. But a part of him had already decided. A few more hours or a few more days wouldn’t matter. He could not unknow what he knew and he could not pretend either.

Donghoon didn’t like dragging things out.

He dug out his old laptop and ignored Gildong’s questions, instead he did a quick search on Dongcheon. There were some news articles. Donghoon opened them across several tabs. Information on Choi Mujin was very sparse and seemed carefully curated to reflect a businessman of some sort specialising in real estate. Articles linking Dongcheon and Choi Mujin were limited to forums, message boards and niche speculative crime websites.

“There.” He turned the laptop to Gildong and stood up, leaving him to read the open tabs. Outside the sea waves were rolling onto the beach, greyer and bleaker than ever.

“How did you find out about this?” Gildong asked after several minutes of tense silence.

Donghoon exhaled, staring out the glass sliding door. “I’m still in contact with some of my old buddies on the force. Did I tell you I was a narc? Had a few years in the OCU as well.”

“Donghoon -”

“I get it. It's a lot to take in. Don't push yourself. Just… Choi Mujin or Hong Gildong. it doesn't matter. You're not one hundred percent recovered. And your memory hasn't returned, it wouldn't be fair to you. Maybe we should get a specialist’s advice on this. But if it doesn’t return….We’ll work something out.” He was rambling. He heard the words streaming out of his mouth but he wasn't sure what he meant.

Gildong didn’t reply. The silence stretched on for so long Donghoon wondered if he had left the room. But at the same time he couldn’t bring himself to look behind, to look at the man who had come to mean so much and yet was now a completely different person.

“Are you going to arrest me if I remember?” Gildong asked quietly.

“Do you?” His voice sounded terrible, low and hoarse and shaky.

Donghoon whipped his gaze around, his heart plummeting. He stared at Gildong’s hunched shoulders, elbows pressed on his knees, his hands twisted together. “No,” Gildong said very, very calmly, “But if I start to remember… what will happen then?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

Gildong was on his feet, saying “So you can accept Hong Gildong but not Choi Mujin? Donghoon are you even listening to yourself?”

I am trying to justify having you in my life he didn't say.

“If you can't accept my past then you can't accept me.”

Donghoon crossed the room and seized him by the front of his clothes. “Do you have any idea what you are? What Dongcheon does? Have you seen how depraved addicts get? The things a child can do to his own mother for the next hit? The things parents have done to their children when they are fucking high?” His face felt hot and wet. Distantly, he realised he was crying.

Gliding was looking at him, eyes wide and bright, tinged with red. “Donghoon,” he whispered brokenly. “What do you want me to say?”

Donghoon sobbed and pulled him close. “I dont know… I don't fuckiing know.”

Gently, he felt hands cover his own and prying his fingers off. He didn't have the strength to fight Gildong. He didn’t know if he wanted to. All the emotions he had kept in check were pouring out. His vision was blurry with tears but he could hear Gildong picking up his phone and wearing his coat, the sound of him putting on his shoes. Then the door opened letting in a blast of cold air and closed.

--

When Gildong didn’t return that evening despite the numerous missed calls, Donghoon took the old truck out to find him.

He didn't think a man on foot could get far in this weather. All Gildong had was a couple of hundred, his phone and the clothes on his back. No inn or motel nearby had seen him. There wasn't a sign of him anywhere. It was getting too late to search any longer. Donghoon came home, tired and worried sick.

Jiwoo wanted to go look for him herself but Donghoon talked her out of it.

“Why would he leave like that?” she asked again. Her tone suggested that she thought very much Donghoon had something to do with it but she could see how miserable he was. She tried calling Gildong again without success.

“Tomorrow we’ll go to the police,” Donghoon said to comfort her.

Neither of them could sleep. They sat in the living room, waiting and hoping that Gildong would return. Jiwoo had school tomorrow and Donghoon tried to get her to go to bed but she refused. She ended up falling asleep against him on the couch. Donghoon stared at their reflections in the blank television screen, fighting regret and guilt.

On a whim he tried calling Gildong again. The man had not set up a voicemail so after multiple rings, the call would cut off automatically. Donghoon sighed. He was about to toss the phone aside when it rang.

Gildong was dialing back.

“Hello,” Donghoon said urgently.

“Donghoon-ssi.”

“Gildong-ah.” Eyes closing in relief, he lowered his voice as Jiwoo shifted, “Where are you? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Please don’t worry.”

“Gildong, I… I’m sorry. I wasn't thinking straight earlier. Please come home.”

He heard Gildong pause. “I think it's better if I stay away for a while.”

“Don’t - don't be stubborn. Come home and we'll talk it over. Where are you staying? Do you have a roof over your head?”

“I’ll be alright. I just need some time to… think. Donghoon, I’m sorry too. It’ll be okay.”

He hung up.

Donghoon wanted to scream and curse and run out of the house to look for him right now but he didn’t. He couldn't.

“He's not coming back, is he?” Jiwoo was awake and staring at him with liquid eyes. Her lips trembled. Donghoon held her small frame close and ran a soothing palm back and forth over her back.

“We'll find him,” he promised.

--

Jiwoo did not want to go to school and while Donghoon was usually a relaxed parent, he would not budge on this. She had never missed school except when sick and she didn’t get sick all that often so skipping school to search for a grown man was not on the list of things he deemed acceptable.

Donghoon didn’t open the restaurant.

The first day didn’t bring any results. Donghoon had half a mind to go to the police but he dreaded the explanation he’d have to give. Officer, I would like to report a missing person. No he is not a relative. I found him on the beach and nursed him back to health. Turns out he’s a wanted criminal and the head of a major drug trafficking gang. But he didn’t come home yesterday.

It would turn into a man hunt if the local police believed him at all.

Donghoon went to all the possible places he thought a man strapped for cash could have gone. His biggest worry was that Gildong had taken a bus out of town. He had enough funds for that. If that was the case, then that would make this search much more difficult.

Jiwoo on the other hand was determined to call Gildong every hour that she was home. Her strategy seemed to revolve around annoying him until he answered. So far it didn’t seem to be working but it was only the first day of their search.

Second day, he decided to fuck subtlety and just ask door to door like a beat cop making his rounds. First he hit every public bathhouse and motel, every inn, AirBnB and home stay in town then every restaurant. It was slow going and dreary. By late afternoon, Donghoon’s fingers were numb from pinching the blown up photograph of Gildong and his nose was almost blue from the cold.

He rapped politely on one more door. The bed and breakfast was a familiar one, run by none other than Mrs Ahn, Old Sui’s wife.

“Ah, Donghoon-ssi, what are you doing about in this weather? Aiigo please come inside. Do you want something hot to drink? I’ve been meaning to send you something for fixing the heater but I haven’t gotten round to it and you know my husband is just so forgetful -”

“That’s alright, thank you. Mrs Ahn, have you seen Gildong recently?”

“Your handsome friend?”

He chuckled, with forced humour. “Yes.”

“No… I’m sorry. Did something happen to him?”

“We just had a disagreement.”

“Well, I asked because there were two men looking for him too, just a moment ago. Looking for you as well. They didn’t look like locals.” At Donghoon’s shocked expression she quickly added, “I didn't tell them anything. They looked suspicious. But they were asking around.”

Donghoon's heart started hammering in his chest. “How long ago was this?”

“About an hour?”

That meant they were probably still in the area.

“Thanks, Mrs Ahn,” Donghoon said and hurried back to his truck, trying not to run. He had an inkling but he couldn’t connect the dots yet.

He rounded a street corner and spotted two men about fifteen paces. Heavy coats over business suits and ties that clashed oddly with heavy boots. They were hard to miss since the street was empty but that meant the men had a clear sight of him too. They stared at one another.

Donghoon turned and kept walking.

“Hey,” called one of the men and was ignored. “Hey, you!”

Donghoon broke into a run. His truck was just another block and damn, but he really needed to be more consistent with those morning jogs. The icy road made running more difficult too. He could hear the crunch of bootsoles quickening behind him. The men were narrowing the distance between them and Donghoon changed tactics, coming to an abrupt halt and whipping around to charge the nearest man. Clearly caught off guard and still in the momentum of his sprint, the man had no time to brace himself against Donghoon’s full bodied check and went tumbling to the ground with a yell. Donghoon righted himself, panting and took a punch to the cheek, hard enough to send him stumbling backwards.

“Fuck,” he spat, eyeing the man’s partner. “Why the hell are you attacking strangers in public?”

While his partner was groaning on the ground, trying to pick himself up, the man sized Donghoon up, focusing on his face. Then he said, “You come with us and there will be no trouble.”

“Fuck you,” said Donghoon savagely and threw a cloud of dirt and snow he had scooped up while flailing about earlier. It served as nothing more than a short distraction but it was enough to give Donghoon the element of surprise to land a solid punch into the man’s stomach. The man doubled over retching. His partner was already getting to his feet. Donghoon wasn’t going to wait around for round two.

He ran.

The engine of the truck revved to life. Donghoon slammed his foot on the gas while struggling with the seatbelt. He could see the two men chasing futilely after him through the rearview mirror but was distracted by his ringing phone.

“Hello? Jiwoo-ah, I’m on my way home.”

“Ap-appa.” Her voice was shaking. “Appa, there are some men here looking for you and…. Gildong-ssi. Have y-you,” she swallowed. “Any luck today?”

Panic slammed into his gut. His throat was so tight he couldn’t speak, couldn’t even breathe. He was sweating despite the cold, having forgotten to turn on the heater in his haste. “Jiwoo, stay calm, alright? Appa will be there soon. You just stay calm. I won’t let anything happen to you -”

The sound of rustling and then a male voice, even and calm, spoke, “Mr Yoon.”

Donghoon froze before he found his voice again. “Don’t you dare hurt her, you piece of shit. Don’t you fucking dare.” He was driving so fast, the truck nearly oversteered on the slippery road. His hand was shaking so badly he couldn't hold the phone properly.

“We won’t hurt her. So long as you come home. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to leave Jiwoo with us. I don’t think I have to tell you this but calling the authorities will not be in your best interests.”

“Ten minutes,” Donghoon growled and hung up.

He drove like a mad man.

—

There were at least three tinted cars within sight which was a hell of a lot more men than Donghoon accounted for. His little house looked like the centre of some important official meeting with all these men in suits and ties, slicked back hair and serious faces. Donghoon was led into the living room where a sharply dressed young man with a pale face and quiet air was seated. He recognised the man from the photographs in Giho’s file. Dongcheon’s second in command, Jung Taeju.

Jung Taeju looked even younger in person than in the photographs. There was a boyish quality to him that didn’t quite fit with the violent reputation of Dongcheon.

Jiwoo was in the kitchen attempting to make tea. He could see her shuffling nervously, hear the occasional clink of ceramic when her hands shook. Her face was covered by a curtain of hair. Another young man with bleached blond hair was nearby, casually leaning against the sink counter, clearly keeping an eye on her. Although he was dressed in a suit like the rest, the ear piercings and loose tie made him stand out from the rest of the ensemble. He was eyeing Donghoon with interest.

“Jiwoo, are you alright?” Donghoon asked, voice tight.

She looked up. Her face was pale with fear but she seemed unharmed and when she replied, her voice at least sounded strong. “Yes.”

Jung Taeju got to his feet and gestured to the couch as if he was the owner of the house and not Donghoon. “Donghoon-ssi, please sit.”

Donghoon ignored him. “How did you find us?”

The corner of Jung Taeju’s mouth ticked upwards for a split second. “We monitor Cha Giho pretty closely. It was a bit unusual for him to come all the way here out of the blue. Then it was a matter of asking around and narrowing down possible locations. The locals were quite helpful.”

He wasn’t giving much but Donghoon could make a few guesses, either Dongcheon had put a tail on Cha Giho or there was a mole in his unit or both.

“Please sit, Donghoon-ssi,” Jung Taeju said again. A man behind Donghoon put a firm hand on his shoulder. Donghoon fought the first instinctive reaction to send an elbow into his ribs only because he saw the blonde haired man beside Jiwoo straighten up.

He sat down slowly.

“Your daughter tells me Choi Mujin was staying with you up until recently. Where is he now?” Jung Taeju asked, settling back down as well.

“No clue.” Donghoon shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. He took off two days ago. He hasn’t been answering my calls.”

“Why?”

Donghoon felt his face heat. “We got into a fight.”

“Is that all?”

“What? You think I killed him? Kicked him out? What do you know anyway? If it wasn’t for me and Jiwoo, your boss would have died a long time ago.”

Jung Taeju’s expression didn’t change. It was hard to get a read on the man. “I don’t know the details of what transpired. All I know is that he was with you and now you’re telling me he’s not. With connections like Cha Giho, you’re either an informant or an ex-cop. So why should I believe you?”

“You can believe whatever the hell you want,” retorted Donghoon coldly. “The fact is none of us know where he is.”

“You said he wasn’t answering your calls? Will you try calling him now?”

“Appa, don’t do it,” said Jiwoo, casting a defiant glare at the whole room. “They’re going to hurt him.”

The blonde man laughed and said, “You’re clearly confused, miss.” His hand shot out and seized Jiwoo by the hair.

Donghoon jumped to his feet. “Jiwoo!”

Jiwoo rammed an elbow backwards and the blonde man let out a surprised oof. It was a good move but she didn’t have the strength to shake him off. “Feisty,” said the man, forcing her towards the kitchen counter and pinning her down with his weight as she shouted and struggled. The man slammed her hand onto the counter and pulled out a knife, poised it against Jiwoo’s pinkie.

“Okay, okay, I’ll call him. Just don’t hurt her,” Donghoon pleaded, rummaging for his phone, fingers trembling. “Jiwoo, Jiwoo, sweetheart, stop. Enough, just stop.”

Jung Taeju hadn’t reacted at all. He never took his eyes off Donghoon and his face remained impassive. For a moment, the only sound in the living room was Jiwoo’s harsh breathing. Donghoon heard the phone ring and ring until it eventually died. He blinked sweat out of his eyes. “See, I told you he’s not answering.”

“Please send him a text, Donghoon-ssi and try again,” Jung Taeju politely instructed.

Donghoon’s thumb hovered over the screen. “Wh-what do you want me to say?”

“Tell him Taeju is at your house.”

Donghoon licked the sweat beading on his upper lip. “He might not remember you.”

Jung Taeju’s eyes flashed. “What do you mean?”

“He has amnesia. From a head injury. When he woke up, he didn’t remember who he was.”

There was a moment of stunned silence as everyone in the room absorbed this.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” snarled the blonde man, incredulous. Jiwoo started to scream as the blade sliced into her flesh, blood welling up.

“I’m telling you the truth!” Donghoon yelled in a panic.

“Gangjae,” Jung Taeju said with a hint of warning in his tone. “That’s enough.” The blonde man stopped but he didn’t let Jiwoo up.

“Look, I’ll call him again. And I’ll let him know you’re here but there’s no guarantee if he remembers or even turns up.” There could be a million reasons Gildong wasn’t picking up his calls. He could have lost his phone, he could be in actual trouble, he could have just not seen the missed calls.

He sent off a pleading text and prayed Gildong… no, Choi Mujin would answer the next call. And the next. Call after call. The Dongcheon men seemed content to wait. Donghoon didn’t want to know what would happen if Mujin didn’t show up. He knew how it looked from the outside. He was an ex-cop. He knew the chief of KPNA Narcotics Unit on a personal level. If Dongcheon had done their homework, which they must have, then they’d realise up until eight years ago Yoon Donghoon didn’t even exist.

Eight messages and six calls later, they sat in tensed silence. Donghoon and Jiwoo on the couch, her finger wrapped in a dishcloth, Jung Taeju in a chair across from them. No one spoke.

Now that he had the chance, Donghoon could see the black blue smudges under Jung Taeju’s eyes, make out the rigid line of his shoulders under his coat. He remembered Giho’s report on a brewing gang war now that rumours of Choi Mujin’s death were swirling. Dongcheon’s second was ridiculously young to be running such a big organisation. It must be hell. Donghoon almost felt bad for the man. Almost.

“Donghoon-ssi,” Jung Taeju started to say.

The door slammed open, cold air rushing into the room. Choi Mujin stood at the doorway, chest heaving, his breath steaming in the air. His eyes immediately darted to Donghoon and Jiwoo, a look of relief shining through.

“Gildong!”

Donghoon jerked Jiwoo back down on the couch. Instead, it was Jung Taeju who stood up. “Boss,” he greeted his voice filled with emotion. He looked so relieved he might cry. It took him a minute to collect himself enough to bow, the whole group following the same with a chorus of greetings.

“Appa,” Jiwoo asked softly, confused and hurt. “What’s going on?”

Donghoon watched as Choi Mujin glanced around, throat bobbing once, his gaze passing over the room before it solidified into something hard and impenetrable.

Donghoon’s heart sank.

In that moment he knew Hong Gildong was gone, if he ever existed at all.

—

“I really thought you died when you fell into the water,” Jung Taeju said, voice thick as he approached Mujin. He was too respectful to touch him but Donghoon could see he wanted to, just to check if he was real, feel the solid living warmth under his hand. “Hyungnim, I’m sorry,” he hung his head, shoulders trembling as he tried to hold in a shaky sob.

Mujin took him by the shoulders, “Taeju, you’ve worked hard.” Taeju lifted his head, composing himself. Mujin searched his face, gaze softening, fingers gently reaching and straightening his tie. “You’ve lost weight.”

“I didn’t want to believe… not until I saw a body. And I’m glad I didn’t stop looking.”

Mujin smiled. A very different kind of smile from the ones Donghoon knew. There was no humour in it, only defiance, as if Mujin was challenging Fate itself to strike him down. “I’m not easy to kill. Will you wait in the car? I just need a moment.” He clapped Taeju’s shoulder twice.

Taeju nodded. One quick glance behind him and the rest of the men fell into line, nodding and murmuring words like welcome back, boss and happy to see you, sir, some of them genuinely emotional. The last to leave was Gangjae who gave a little two finger salute to Donghoon before closing the door behind him.

Then it was just Donghoon, Jiwoo and Mujin.

“Are you alright?” Mujin asked, breaking the silence, some of his mask slipping, the weariness bleeding through.

Donghoon stood up so fast his head swam. “You bastard. Answer your phone like a normal person, can’t you? And f-” he swallowed back the curse remembering Jiwoo. “To hell with you and your gang.”

Mujin didn’t even flinch

“Appa,” said Jiwoo, she was holding the bloody cloth around her finger

Mujin breathed sharply. Turning towards her he said, “Jiwoo-ah, did they hurt you? Let me - ”

Donghoon held her back. “You don’t get that right.” He could see the hurt and guilt in Mujin’s eyes and felt a hot stab of satisfaction. Mujin wasn’t the one who had to listen to his baby girl shaking over the phone or see her being held hostage by a group of thugs. This was exactly the kind of life Donghoon wanted to escape when he quit being a cop. He’d drawn a line and he’d be damn if he crossed it now for some stranger.

A stranger, he repeated to himself, holding Mujin’s gaze.

“Donghoon -”

“Let’s not do this,” Donghoon cut him off. “Your men are waiting for you.”

“Appa!”

Mujin nodded, jaw tight, his hands curling into fists by his side. He sighed, looking away. “I had hoped - I guess it doesn’t matter.” He bowed deep and low. “Donghoon-ssi, thank you for everything.” He straightened, no longer meeting their eyes and turned to leave.

“No!” Jiwoo shouted, darting forward and grabbing his arm. “This is ridiculous! Appa, what the hell?” When he didn’t move, she turned back to Mujin. “You can’t just leave! Gildong, please. Don’t just leave us like this… how am I going to contact you?”

Mujin took her hand and without much force, disengaged her from his arm. “Jiwoo-ah, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Take care of your appa, alright?” He squeezed her hand and managed a small genuine smile for her.

And he left.

–

Even after Donghoon explained everything, Jiwoo was inconsolable.

“Jiwoo-ah, you saw what these people will do. They do not need a reason for violence.”

“Gildong is not like that!”

“You have no idea who he really is!”

“I know exactly the type of person he is. Maybe you can’t accept that but I'm okay with it!” she yelled. “I’m not you. I can live with that.”

For the first in his life, Donghoon wanted to slap her for her callousness. He held himself in check. She didn’t know. She couldn't know. And he hoped she would neve have to find out what men like Mujin were capable of.

“Don't say that,” Donghoon grabbed her by the arms and shook her. “Jiwoo, if you'd seen the things I've seen, you wouldn't say that.” His voice broke at the end.

Reluctantly, acceptance crept into her bright eyes as she held his gaze. He could see the anger slowly bleed out of her although she tried to cling to it. Her face crumpled, hot frustrated tears spilling down her cheeks. Donghoon pulled her into a tight hug, rocking her gently. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “It sucks, I know. But it'll pass. I’m sorry, Jiwoo. So sorry.”

Jiwoo wailed, crying so hard her face turned red. All Donghoon could do was hold her.

--

Much to Donghoon’s surprise, the blonde haired man appeared in front of his house a week after the incident. Jiwoo wasn't back yet. These days, she hung out later, avoiding both home and Donghoon. Still profoundly feeling the emptiness left behind by Mujin’s absence.

“Hi,” said the blonde man in English with a big grin. He was dressed in a bright red hoodie beneath a stylish winter jacket and skinny jeans. Donghoon narrowed his eyes. Gangjae he recalled the name. The man's face was covered in bruises and he had a cut lip, favouring his right side when he jogged up the short steps to Donghoon’s porch. His left hand was in bandages and the bridge of nose was swollen.

“What the hell happened to you?” asked Donghoon instead of replying.

“I got off lightly,” Gangjae shrugged, avoiding the question. Donghoon didn’t press but he could guess. The thought both repulsed and satisfied him in some twisted way. And he did not like the feeling.

“What do you want?”

“Aren’t you going to invite me in? I came all the way here on my off day.”

Donghoon didn’t budge. “Tell me why you’re here first.”

Gangjae sighed loudly, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “The boss says I should apologise for my actions the other day.” He didn’t sound particularly sincere about it but not resentful either. Donghoon felt like sighing too. The man stuck out like a sore thumb with his expensive car and clothes.

“Come in,” he relented, opening the door.

“Thanks,” said Gangjae brightly, like he didn’t just try to cut Jiwoo’s finger off a few days ago. “The little miss isn’t home today?” His demeanor was wholly different, relaxed and cheerful, friendly even. Donghoon pointed him into a chair and didn’t offer him anything to drink.

Gangjae didn’t take the chair immediately. Instead he bowed almost ninety degrees and said, “Donghoon-ssi, I am sorry for how I treated you and your daughter. Please accept my apology.”

What a farce. “Apology accepted.”

“Thank you,” said Gangjae, straightening up. As he sat, he pulled out an envelope and slid it towards Donghoon. “There’s also this.”

Donghoon left the envelope on the table. “Gangjae, right.”

“Yes. I am honored you remembered.” The tone was respectful but the grin said he was taking the piss and enjoying it immensely.

Donghoon snorted. “Did you do well in school, Gangjae?”

“Pretty okay. I don’t like studying but I aced my sciences.”

“Then, why did you join a gang?”

Gangjae rolled his shoulders. “Seemed cool.”

“Is it?” Donghoon asked, voice flat. “Is it cool to threaten to dismember a young girl’s finger?”

It was unnerving how fast Gangjae’s smile turned brutal and sharp as a machete’s blade. “It was cool to feel her struggling under me,” he said, eyes shining.

Donghoon didn’t rise to the bait, only because he had met various shades of viciousness like Gangjae’s throughout his life. In his mind, his fist had connected with Gangjae’s face a dozen times over. He waited for the rage to pass, giving nothing away. Then he reached for the envelope and peered inside. It was exactly what he suspected.

Gangjae seemed a little disappointed at the lack of reaction but he moved on quickly. “Boss says you should have it. For everything you’ve done.”

Donghoon pulled out the wad of cash and counted a few thousand won from the top. He peeled them out and dropped the rest into the envelope. He handed it back to Gangjae. “Tell him I’ll take only what’s owed to me. Or you can just say I’ve accepted the money and keep the rest. Either way, we’re even.”

Gangjae pocketed the envelope. He looked impressed. “Alright.”

“And I have something else.” He got up and went to the spare room, returning with a box. “These are his. He can throw them away or burn them. I really don’t care.”

“Wow, it’s like you guys got a divorce,” Gangjae remarked, standing to accept the box.

Donghoon shot him a look that he hoped conveyed how much he wanted to beat him up but it seemed to roll right off Gangjae like water sliding off a duck’s back. Unbelievable. “That’s it,” Donghoon said stiffly. He opened the door, the message clear.

“Aw,” Gangjae grumbled while walking out. “Not even a goodbye? No? Fine. Send my sweet regards to your daughter.” He chuckled traipsing down the steps to his car.

“You little piece of shit,” Donghoon muttered. Loudly he said, “Hey, Gangjae!”

“Yeah?”

“You should rethink your career. With that personality of yours, someone’s going to stab you to death sooner or later.”

“Are you cursing me?”

“I’m advising you.”

Gangjae burst out laughing, like he thought it was genuinely funny. “Anything else?” He placed the box in the back seat.

Donghoon hesitated. “Tell Choi Mujin… to take care of himself.”

A funny smile crossed Gangjae’s face. “Sure,” he shrugged. “See you, ahjussi!” He waved as he got into the car, peeling off, wet sand spraying all over Donghoon’s porch.

—

Winter melted into spring. Jiwoo would bounce back quickly. She was a teenager with a million things to distract and divert her attention; classes and activities to focus on.

The first few weeks were the hardest. Donghoon hadn't realised how much the man had been a part of their lives until he was gone. Jiwoo must have felt it too. For a while she stopped going on walks along the beach. They didn't talk about him. It might not be the healthiest way to cope but it hurt too much.

The townspeople were even quicker to move on after a few curious questions. After all, people came and went. That was just how things were.

But on some nights, when he wasn't strong enough, when he felt lonely and weighed down by his loneliness, Donghoon allowed himself to miss Gildong. His scent, his taste, his strong sure hands and wry humour, his laugh that wrinkles the corner of his eyes. He gave in to the heart clenching grief and let the tears flow. Those past two months were like a fever dream. Intense and unreal

There was only once that his phone rang with Hong Gildong flashing on the screen. In the twilight hours, Donghoon stared at the screen not quite believing. It went on and on until he finally mustered up the courage to end the call. He blocked the number after and deleted it.

–

Mujin turned up almost a year later, in the middle of autumn. The weather was still mild enough that there were still people playing on the beach. Donghoon found him sitting on the porch steps. He was in casual clothes, his car nowhere to be seen. Maybe he parked it somewhere else, maybe one of his henchmen drove him down here. Whichever it was, it looked as if Mujin had been waiting there for a while.

Donghoon got out of the truck. He had a busy day at the restaurant. Jiwoo was taking judo classes now, training for a competition and he hoped he could make Mujin leave before she arrived home. He thought he’d be furious to see the man again but he wasn’t. The anger had long faded. Most of the time when he thought of Mujin, if at all, he just felt sad. But seeing him again after all these months made Donghoon’s chest tight with emotions.

There it is he thought helplessly as his heart started to pound and his stomach fluttered, twisting into familiar knots.

They took stock of one another. “What are you doing here?” Donghoon asked at last.

“Just wanted to see you,” Mujin said. He sounded unsure and that was odd because Choi Mujin, leader of Dongcheon shouldn't be afraid of anything.

Donghoon brushed past him on his way into the house. He left the door open but Mujin didn’t follow him in. Donghoon washed his hands and face, changed into a clean shirt and grabbed two bottles of beer from the fridge. He popped back out, opening a bottle and handing it to Mujin before plopping down beside him on the steps.

“How’s Jiwoo doing?” Mujin asked carefully.

“She’s doing well,” Donghoon sighed, flicking open the cap on his own beer and taking a swig. “I know she texts you. It’s fine, I’m not mad.” A cool breeze drifted over, bringing the briny scent of the sea. It was still pretty bright, the sky a wide blue expanse with little to no clouds above. The waves were rolling in, white and foamy. He could feel Mujin staring. It made his skin buzz with pin pricks. “So, you've seen me. Now what?” Donghoon asked, meeting his dark eyes.

Mujin leaned over and kissed him. He pulled away too quickly for Donghoon to even react but his lips tingled pleasantly with an imprint of cigarettes and mint. Heat crept up his face. “There are people about,” Donghoon mumbled, turning away and taking another drink to wash down his nerves.

“I missed you,” Mujin admitted, gazing back at the beach. “I tried staying away but….” He shrugged, rolling the untouched bottle between his palms.

Donghoon exhaled softly. “It’s not just a matter of what’s right and wrong. I’m not going to be your weakness, Mujin. I especially don’t want that risk for Jiwoo.”

Mujin nodded warily. “Five years,’” he replied, glancing at Donghoon. “Will you give me five years?”

“Well, it’s not like I have a bunch of suitors lining up for my hand in marriage. I’ll still be here,” Donghoon joked, his half-smile disappearing when he saw that Mujin was serious, gaze heavy and sincere.

“If I was a better man, I would turn myself in. I would for you. But I’m not. I'm not even a good person. I’m selfish. If I turned myself in, I wouldn’t be able to see you or Jiwoo ever again. And I can’t do that.”

Donghoon swallowed. He was done with fighting himself and what we wanted. Months and months wavering between regret and self righteousness had brought him nothing but heartache. If Mujin had stayed away, maybe Donghoon had a chance. Maybe he’d regret it till his dying day. But none of that mattered now, because Mujin was here, a braver man than Donghoon and perhaps a more honest one.

“Yeah, I guess I’m a terrible person too,'' Donghoon sighed, scuffing his shoe against the grainy step. He wanted to be selfish for once. “You sure you’ll make it to five years?”

“I’m not an easy man to kill,” Mujin said, smiling lightly and taking a sip of beer.

Donghoon found himself smiling too, tentative and small but it didn’t make it any less real.

Together, they watched as a couple of children ran out to meet the crashing waves, tumbling and laughing even as they fell, the sound drifting into the clear blue sky.