DECEPTIONS OF THE DARK

Jinmi roughly navigated her car into the spacious garage. Her mother's car and Rowoon's were neatly parked in their respective spots, indicating they were home and likely prepared to give her a stern talking-to. Out of habit, she glanced over at her father's parking spot and felt a momentary surge of hope upon seeing his sleek, charcoal Rolls Royce sitting there. But reality swiftly crashed back, reminding her that he had taken a cab to the airport that fateful day. His car being there didn't mean he was.

Stepping out of her vehicle, she gazed at the Rolls, allowing her emotions to wash over her. It was the first time she had truly allowed herself to feel since receiving the devastating news. Memories flooded back, seemingly insignificant moments now imbued with profound significance. Every word exchanged in past arguments with her father played in her mind like a haunting melody, words left unsaid and now forever beyond her reach. It wasn't fair!

Jinmi let out a heavy sigh, pressing the button on her key fob to lock her car. She entered the house and nearly collided with one of the maids.

"Oh," the woman said. "Mr. Yoon was looking for you. He asked to meet him in the library when you returned."

"Mr. Yoon?" Jinmi inquired.

The young woman blushed slightly. "The younger Mr. Yoon."

Jinmi nodded, making her way towards the library. The term "Mr. Yoon" felt strange when referring to her brother, but circumstances had thrust him into the role of the family's head. Silently, she padded down the hall, her shoes sinking into the luxurious, plush carpet. She briefly considered heading straight to her room to change, but decided against it. Dealing with the lectures first seemed a wiser choice, and then she could reward herself with a long, peaceful bath before changing into more comfortable attire.

Without knocking, Jinmi entered the library, and all eyes turned towards her as she shut the door. Rowoon appeared stressed and strained, the weight of responsibility already taking its toll on him, while her mother seemed oddly composed, likely aided by medication or Botox, Jinmi surmised. As she approached them, she caught sight of two men standing next to her brother. Though they were dressed appropriately for the outside world, within the confines of the library, they seemed out of place, like ragged beggars. She inwardly acknowledged that she probably didn't look much better.

But something else caught her attention.

One of the men nudged the other, who halted his actions to stare intently at her.

It was the same man who had once rescued her from a perilous situation at a bar and later made a toast.

Kevin Reynolds, her knight in shining armor.

A couple of days ago

Jinmi felt her phone vibrating in her pocket before it started ringing, and she sighed loudly. It had gone off twice already, but she'd left it in her pocket, awkwardly pretending it wasn't going off. The ringtone told her who it was right away, so she didn't have to check.

"Who was that?" Emma asked, once it had gone off again.

"Just my brother. Nothing important."

They both lapsed into silence, watching the customers do their shopping, but none came near them. The store wasn't too busy yet, and they were just getting ready for the after-work rush. It wouldn't be much longer till they'd be running off their feet, serving all the busy professionals that were picking up something for dinner before rushing home again. She was a little jealous of them sometimes.

Suddenly, a raised voice pulled her attention away and she tilted her head to one side, listening.

It sounded like Mia was arguing with someone, or more likely trying not to argue with someone. Mia always liked to make people happy, no matter what. Jinmi turned off the grill and stepped out from behind the stand. Following the voices, she turned down the next aisle. She stood next to Mia and looked at the two women.

"Is there a problem here?"

"There most certainly is. I want some of the apple chicken sausages, but she's refusing."

Jinmi narrowed her eyes. "Well, she should. That kind isn't one of the samples we're offering today."

The customer glared at her, and she glared back. Something about the woman reminded her of her mother. They had the same way of running right over people, of expecting that everyone else should do whatever they could to let them get their way, knowing that the employees would just let it happen.

"You have a package right here; you can just open it up," she said smugly, waving the package in her face.

"No, we really can't. We can't just take whatever we want off the shelves and give it to people. We can only give people samples of the products we're allowed to give. That's not even the same brand." She was trying to stay calm and keep her voice even, but it was clear she was failing.

Mia took a step back; she was softer and more non-confrontational than Jinmi and didn't want to get caught up in the fight. But Jinmi couldn't back down. She was getting mad now, and had to see it through to the end.

"I'm sure you could, but you're just lazy." The woman glared at Jinmi, almost daring her to say something else.

"You're the one who's lazy. You want us to take this package, and cook them up so you can have a little piece, while we get in trouble. It's a package of sausages. It's eight dollars. Just buy some yourself, and see if you like them."

"Ladies!" The manager came bustling over, putting a hand on Jinmi's arm, making her step away from the customer. "It sounds like you need some help with something."

"One of us needs help, but it sure isn't me," Jinmi muttered.

The customer's mouth dropped open, and her face grew red. "Did you hear that?"

"I'll ask her to keep her comments to herself while we talk."

He turned to the two women. "You two stay here. When I'm done dealing with this, we'll talk."

Jinmi and Mia stayed huddled together while the manager walked away, talking to the customer. They weren't sure what he said to her, but it seemed to work. Her face got less red, and she stopped turning to glare at them.

"What do you think's going to happen?"

Jinmi snorted and ran her fingers through her short black hair. "I think nothing's going to happen."

"I don't want to lose my job."

"It's not that great a job anyway," Jinmi muttered but stopped, seeing the stricken look on her friend's face. She reached over and took her arm. "You're not going to lose your job. I'm the one who was rude."

"Well, I don't want you to lose your job either."

Jinmi smiled at her thoughtfulness, but didn't say anything.

Finished with the customer, the manager stalked towards them, frowning. "What did you think you were doing? Why on earth did you think that was the best way to handle a customer?"

Curious customers were starting to gather nearby, pretending to shop while listening to what was happening.

"Why don't we move over here?" The manager pushed through some doors into the stock area. Jinmi and Mia looked at each other, preparing for the lecture. "I had higher hopes for you two. I thought you could handle the pressures of working closer with the customers."

"It's that woman. She wanted...."

The manager held up his hand, stopping her, shaking his head. "I don't care. I don't want to hear about it. You are here to serve the customers." He looked at them both, and his face softened. "You just need to be more diplomatic in how you say things. She just came here to shop, not get shouted at. Put yourself in her place: how would you want to be spoken to?" He asjed as he looked at them both in turn.

Jinmi smiled and nodded along with Mia, but she wasn't happy. It shouldn't be allowed for customers to treat them like that.

"You just have to remember: the customer's always right."

"But what about when they don't know what they're talking about?"

"Then it counts double." He dismissed them with a wave of his hand and walked back, further into the warehouse.

The women turned and Jinmi pushed through the door, almost sending it smacking into the wall as she walked through. As they walked back to their station, her phone rang again.

"Your phone's ringing again."

Jinmi nodded, and her friend made a face.

"Maybe you should answer this time. It probably is important." She snorted and pulled out her phone anyway, ducking back into the warehouse to answer the call.

"Hello?" She put all her annoyance into her voice, hoping to make it clear, that she wasn't happy about this.

"Jinmi! Where have you been? I've been calling for hours!"

She shrugged, but then remembered he couldn't see her. "I've been working."

"You need to get home."

"I can't, you know that. My shift's not done for another two hours."

"No, now! You need to come home now."

"No."

She heard him sigh on the other end of the line. It wasn't his usual sigh of long-suffering annoyance, and that made her frown.

"I didn't want to do this over the phone." "Do what?"

Her heart started to race; something wasn't right. The warehouse guys were looking at her. She glared at them before turning to face the wall. With the phone pressed tighter to her ear, she said it again.

"Do what? What don't you want to do?"

"Jinmi," he sighed again, his voice breaking. "There was an accident. Dad's plane went down."

She heard the words, but didn't completely understand what they meant. Her brain seemed to stop working; she'd have to run to catch up with the manager, explain what happened, and then find the directions to get to whatever hospital he was in.

"Is he okay? How bad is he?"

The silence on the other end made her heart beat even faster, making it feel like it was about to burst out of her chest.

"You have to tell me. How bad is it? Is he okay?"

He took a deep breath, and she steadied herself for whatever was going to come. But even when he spoke again, she couldn't believe what he said. It seemed impossible.

"No. No, he's not okay."

"What?"

"Jinmi, he's dead."

Jinmi roughly navigated her car into the spacious garage. Her mother's car and Rowoon's were neatly parked in their respective spots, indicating they were home and likely prepared to give her a stern talking-to. Out of habit, she glanced over at her father's parking spot and felt a momentary surge of hope upon seeing his sleek, charcoal Rolls Royce sitting there. But reality swiftly crashed back, reminding her that he had taken a cab to the airport that fateful day. His car being there didn't mean he was.

Stepping out of her vehicle, she gazed at the Rolls, allowing her emotions to wash over her. It was the first time she had truly allowed herself to feel since receiving the devastating news. Memories flooded back, seemingly insignificant moments now imbued with profound significance. Every word exchanged in past arguments with her father played in her mind like a haunting melody, words left unsaid and now forever beyond her reach. It wasn't fair!

Jinmi let out a heavy sigh, pressing the button on her key fob to lock her car. She entered the house and nearly collided with one of the maids.

"Oh," the woman said. "Mr. Yoon was looking for you. He asked to meet him in the library when you returned."

"Mr. Yoon?" Jinmi inquired.

The young woman blushed slightly. "The younger Mr. Yoon."

Jinmi nodded, making her way towards the library. The term "Mr. Yoon" felt strange when referring to her brother, but circumstances had thrust him into the role of the family's head. Silently, she padded down the hall, her shoes sinking into the luxurious, plush carpet. She briefly considered heading straight to her room to change, but decided against it. Dealing with the lectures first seemed a wiser choice, and then she could reward herself with a long, peaceful bath before changing into more comfortable attire.

Without knocking, Jinmi entered the library, and all eyes turned towards her as she shut the door. Rowoon appeared stressed and strained, the weight of responsibility already taking its toll on him, while her mother seemed oddly composed, likely aided by medication or Botox, Jinmi surmised. As she approached them, she caught sight of two men standing next to her brother. Though they were dressed appropriately for the outside world, within the confines of the library, they seemed out of place, like ragged beggars. She inwardly acknowledged that she probably didn't look much better.

But something else caught her attention.

One of the men nudged the other, who halted his actions to stare intently at her.

It was the same man who had once rescued her from a perilous situation at a bar and later made a toast.

Kevin Reynolds, her knight in shining armor.

A couple of days ago

Jinmi felt her phone vibrating in her pocket before it started ringing, and she sighed loudly. It had gone off twice already, but she'd left it in her pocket, awkwardly pretending it wasn't going off. The ringtone told her who it was right away, so she didn't have to check.

"Who was that?" Emma asked, once it had gone off again.

"Just my brother. Nothing important."

They both lapsed into silence, watching the customers do their shopping, but none came near them. The store wasn't too busy yet, and they were just getting ready for the after-work rush. It wouldn't be much longer till they'd be running off their feet, serving all the busy professionals that were picking up something for dinner before rushing home again. She was a little jealous of them sometimes.

Suddenly, a raised voice pulled her attention away and she tilted her head to one side, listening.

It sounded like Mia was arguing with someone, or more likely trying not to argue with someone. Mia always liked to make people happy, no matter what. Jinmi turned off the grill and stepped out from behind the stand. Following the voices, she turned down the next aisle. She stood next to Mia and looked at the two women.

"Is there a problem here?"

"There most certainly is. I want some of the apple chicken sausages, but she's refusing."

Jinmi narrowed her eyes. "Well, she should. That kind isn't one of the samples we're offering today."

The customer glared at her, and she glared back. Something about the woman reminded her of her mother. They had the same way of running right over people, of expecting that everyone else should do whatever they could to let them get their way, knowing that the employees would just let it happen.

"You have a package right here; you can just open it up," she said smugly, waving the package in her face.

"No, we really can't. We can't just take whatever we want off the shelves and give it to people. We can only give people samples of the products we're allowed to give. That's not even the same brand." She was trying to stay calm and keep her voice even, but it was clear she was failing.

Mia took a step back; she was softer and more non-confrontational than Jinmi and didn't want to get caught up in the fight. But Jinmi couldn't back down. She was getting mad now, and had to see it through to the end.

"I'm sure you could, but you're just lazy." The woman glared at Jinmi, almost daring her to say something else.

"You're the one who's lazy. You want us to take this package, and cook them up so you can have a little piece, while we get in trouble. It's a package of sausages. It's eight dollars. Just buy some yourself, and see if you like them."

"Ladies!" The manager came bustling over, putting a hand on Jinmi's arm, making her step away from the customer. "It sounds like you need some help with something."

"One of us needs help, but it sure isn't me," Jinmi muttered.

The customer's mouth dropped open, and her face grew red. "Did you hear that?"

"I'll ask her to keep her comments to herself while we talk."

He turned to the two women. "You two stay here. When I'm done dealing with this, we'll talk."

Jinmi and Mia stayed huddled together while the manager walked away, talking to the customer. They weren't sure what he said to her, but it seemed to work. Her face got less red, and she stopped turning to glare at them.

"What do you think's going to happen?"

Jinmi snorted and ran her fingers through her short black hair. "I think nothing's going to happen."

"I don't want to lose my job."

"It's not that great a job anyway," Jinmi muttered but stopped, seeing the stricken look on her friend's face. She reached over and took her arm. "You're not going to lose your job. I'm the one who was rude."

"Well, I don't want you to lose your job either."

Jinmi smiled at her thoughtfulness, but didn't say anything.

Finished with the customer, the manager stalked towards them, frowning. "What did you think you were doing? Why on earth did you think that was the best way to handle a customer?"

Curious customers were starting to gather nearby, pretending to shop while listening to what was happening.

"Why don't we move over here?" The manager pushed through some doors into the stock area. Jinmi and Mia looked at each other, preparing for the lecture. "I had higher hopes for you two. I thought you could handle the pressures of working closer with the customers."

"It's that woman. She wanted...."

The manager held up his hand, stopping her, shaking his head. "I don't care. I don't want to hear about it. You are here to serve the customers." He looked at them both, and his face softened. "You just need to be more diplomatic in how you say things. She just came here to shop, not get shouted at. Put yourself in her place: how would you want to be spoken to?" He asjed as he looked at them both in turn.

Jinmi smiled and nodded along with Mia, but she wasn't happy. It shouldn't be allowed for customers to treat them like that.

"You just have to remember: the customer's always right."

"But what about when they don't know what they're talking about?"

"Then it counts double." He dismissed them with a wave of his hand and walked back, further into the warehouse.

The women turned and Jinmi pushed through the door, almost sending it smacking into the wall as she walked through. As they walked back to their station, her phone rang again.

"Your phone's ringing again."

Jinmi nodded, and her friend made a face.

"Maybe you should answer this time. It probably is important." She snorted and pulled out her phone anyway, ducking back into the warehouse to answer the call.

"Hello?" She put all her annoyance into her voice, hoping to make it clear, that she wasn't happy about this.

"Jinmi! Where have you been? I've been calling for hours!"

She shrugged, but then remembered he couldn't see her. "I've been working."

"You need to get home."

"I can't, you know that. My shift's not done for another two hours."

"No, now! You need to come home now."

"No."

She heard him sigh on the other end of the line. It wasn't his usual sigh of long-suffering annoyance, and that made her frown.

"I didn't want to do this over the phone." "Do what?"

Her heart started to race; something wasn't right. The warehouse guys were looking at her. She glared at them before turning to face the wall. With the phone pressed tighter to her ear, she said it again.

"Do what? What don't you want to do?"

"Jinmi," he sighed again, his voice breaking. "There was an accident. Dad's plane went down."

She heard the words, but didn't completely understand what they meant. Her brain seemed to stop working; she'd have to run to catch up with the manager, explain what happened, and then find the directions to get to whatever hospital he was in.

"Is he okay? How bad is he?"

The silence on the other end made her heart beat even faster, making it feel like it was about to burst out of her chest.

"You have to tell me. How bad is it? Is he okay?"

He took a deep breath, and she steadied herself for whatever was going to come. But even when he spoke again, she couldn't believe what he said. It seemed impossible.

"No. No, he's not okay."

"What?"

"Jinmi, he's dead."

Kevin pushed open the creaky door of the old, rundown building that had become a sort of local bar to him. The windows were concealed to discourage prying eyes, giving the exterior a desolate appearance that contrasted with the vibrant life inside. He nodded at the bartender, taking a seat at the counter. The bar was already filled with its usual crowd of hipsters and yuppies slumming it, but tonight, two intoxicated girls stood out from the rest, their loud voices drawing attention.

As he sat there, Kevin couldn't help but drift back to the events of the day. The murder investigation they were working on had taken longer than expected, and he couldn't shake off the unease he felt about the case. Damian, his partner, had criticized his gut feeling, chiding him for not presenting concrete evidence to support his belief that it was murder.

They had reported their findings to the lieutenant, who considered the daughter of the deceased as a "spoiled rich girl," probably not involved in the crime. Kevin wasn't so sure, but he couldn't ignore his partner's skepticism. He knew he had to find something substantial to convince everyone that his instincts were not just a wild hunch.

The girls' laughter at the bar brought him back to the present, and he sighed, pushing away the thoughts of the investigation for the moment. He ordered some food and a drink, trying to distract himself from the haunting echoes of doubt that lingered in his mind.

After a few minutes, a waitress approached with a beer and a plate of wings.

"How are you doing, Kevin?" she asked, placing the items on his table. He shrugged.

"Can't complain."

"Are you sure about that?" she laughed, a few strands of blonde hair falling onto her face.

"Well, I could, but no one would listen."

Just then, the girls at the bar erupted into laughter. Kevin turned to look at them, and the waitress made a face, clearly annoyed.

"Speaking of complaining, those two could give lessons on it. All they've done since they came in is complain."

"They're probably from the university," Kevin commented.

The waitress made a dismissive noise and tapped on the table. "You better eat those before they get cold." She flashed him a wide smile and moved away, stopping at another table to engage in conversation.

Kevin watched her walk away, appreciating her graceful movements. He wondered if she had been flirting with him, but he wasn't adept at deciphering such signals. However, he could judge chicken wings quite well, and these were delicious.

The bar door swung open again, ushering in a gust of cool night air. Kevin glances sideways and observed a man entering. His mind began drifting back to the ongoing case. Ms. Yoon had seemed very different from her son who appeared to be utterly devestated. Rowoon had mentioned that she required sedation, which could explain some of her behavior, but not everything. There were moments when Kevin detected a fleeting look in her eyes, a tightness around her mouth, suggesting she was hiding something.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kevin observed the man pulling one of the girls out of her chair. A mental alarm in his head rang, bringing Kevin back to the present.

"No, Bumpy, I think you should stay here," one of the girls pleaded.

The other girl didn't respond, emitting only incomprehensible sounds as she was clearly too intoxicated to stand, let alone make a rational decision about going home with that man. She might not appreciate Kevin's interference later, but he couldn't sit idly and allow her to become someone who would end up at the police station reporting a rape.

In one fluid motion, Kevin stood up and pulled out his wallet, dropping money on the table. He returned the wallet to his pocket and approached the group casually. "I don't think you want to do that, dude," he said, raising a hand to block the man from leaving the bar.

"It's none of your business," the man retorted.

The man attempted to push past Kevin, dragging the stumbling girl along, but Kevin stood his ground. He couldn't be easily pushed aside. "What, is she your girlfriend? She seems pretty easy."

"No, she's just a drunk girl. You should be thanking me. I'm preventing you from committing a crime."

"What are you, the fun police?"

Kevin laughed and shook his head. "No, I'm a police officer." The man lunged at Kevin, throwing wild punches, but Kevin effortlessly dodged each one. His movements were smooth and precise, and he seemed to anticipate his opponent's actions before they even happened. With a swift duck, Kevin delivered an elbow jab to the man's gut, causing him to grunt and stagger backward. Undeterred, the man charged at Kevin again, but Kevin sidestepped, sending him crashing to the floor, creating a mess of knocked-over chairs. Ignoring the chaos behind him, Kevin glanced at the amused bartender.

"Sorry about that, Jim."

The bartender shrugged. "I'll just add it to your tab."

Kevin lowered his hand to help the man up from the floor. "Apologize to these nice people and then go home. Sleep it off," he said firmly.

The man groaned, attempting to stand, but Kevin pushed him back down. "Apologize first. I don't actually care if you go home, but you should."

The man tried to rise again, and Kevin pushed him down with more force. "Don't make me repeat myself," Kevin warned.

Finally, the man muttered something that could have been an apology. Kevin thought about keeping him down until he apologized properly, but decided against it. The man stood up slowly, making another feeble attempt to approach Kevin, who remained composed.

"I wouldn't even think about it if I were you. Just go home," Kevin advised.

The man sneered but eventually turned toward the door and left. The bar was silent as the door swung shut behind him. The waitress exhaled audibly, relieved, and hurried to set the chairs and table back in order. Kevin helped her, aware that the mess was partly his fault.

"What should we do with them?" she asked in a hushed voice, gesturing toward the intoxicated girls.

Kevin observed both girls. They seemed small and frightened, incapable of handling the situation. He pointed to the slightly more coherent girl and walked toward the bar, leaning on it and facing her.

"Where does she live?" he asked, his voice calm.

"I don't really know where she lives. I've never been to her place," the girl replied.

"What's her name?"

"We call her Bumpy," the girl laughed, clearly drunk. "It's a funny story, actually. What happened was..."

"I don't care. I need her real name. Her actual name."

The girl appeared confused, staring at him blankly. Her intoxicated state prevented her from providing any useful information, but Kevin had to try. Eventually, she opened her mouth.

"What was the question again?"

Kevin sighed, running a hand through his hair. It seemed that their efforts were going nowhere. Leaving her alone on the street was not an option, as she would be an easy target for anyone passing by. And she was in no condition to take a cab. The only remaining choice was to take her to his apartment. He held her up slightly, allowing her to stumble alongside him on the sidewalk. At this pace, they would be fortunate to arrive home before sunrise. After a few minutes of walking, she abruptly halted. Kevin turned to face her as she swayed beside him. Without warning, she dropped to her knees before he could catch her and vomited into the gutter.

"Great," he muttered to himself. "Just great."

Once she finished, she leaned back, collapsing onto the sidewalk. Kevin knelt down beside her. "Are you done?"

She nodded, still swaying in her seated position.

"Are you going to be alright?"

Again, she nodded, or rather attempted to nod, resulting in a random bobbing motion that caused her unkempt hair to cascade across her face. There

was nothing to identify her, no jewelry or clothing that could provide any clues about her identity. He simply wanted one thing, anything, that could lead him to who she was so he could ensure her safe return home.

Resigned, Kevin leaned over and lifted her in a fireman's carry, gripping her leg and arm firmly. This way, they would reach home more swiftly, he thought to himself. Perhaps after he settled her in bed, he could search her belongings. If she went out drinking, she must have brought some money with her. Hopefully, after some rest, she would regain enough clarity to find her own way home. If not, he would take her to the police station and let them handle the situation.

As they exited the bar, Kevin stood on the sidewalk, scanning the surroundings. The man from earlier was nowhere to be seen, and he sighed with relief. Balancing the girl in his arms was challenging enough without having to contend with an angry man. It was best to let him go home and lick his wounds. Hopefully, in the morning, he would realize that he had narrowly escaped a dangerous situation by not taking the girl home. However, such individuals rarely seemed to learn from their mistakes. The girl was small and fragile, clinging to him like dead weight, her legs entangling with his as he struggled to walk.

"What's your name?" Kevin inquired, trying to make conversation.

She looked at him, but her eyes failed to focus. Her mouth opened, attempting to form words, but no sound emerged. She made another futile attempt, resulting in garbled utterances.

"Where do you live?"

Initially, she remained silent, seemingly contemplating her response. Kevin began to wonder if she would say anything at all when she finally spoke, her words slurred, "I live at my house."

They were making little progress. He couldn't leave her alone on the street, vulnerable to any passerby, and she was incapable of taking a cab. His only option left was to take her to his apartment. He adjusted his grip on her, allowing her to walk with his support. At this rate, they would be fortunate to arrive home before sunrise.