Chapter 9: My Name Is... (1)

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

...

In the gloomy alleyway, no one thought there would be a bar there; Grand Dog's Pub was its name.

Hidden from the dimming light oozing through the narrow gap between the walls, appearing out of spirits and looking cramped like a pearl in a straw.

There were no lights outside nor distinguishable designs that would appeal to anyone, making it completely invisible to the 'ordinary' people. It was neither a 'normal' public house nor every adult's refreshment place.

What was more, the fake grandfather of Young Mirae owned the place. He told her he had run it alone for five years. He hired no employees the whole period he operated it because he thought it would only be a bother. Well, except now. The fake grandfather told Young Mirae that he would have her work in his bar.

Everyone had to change their minds, no matter how long they took.

Before coming to his bar, straight up ahead from the police station, her fake grandfather brought her to his residence that morning. Upon arriving in a huge condominium, he immediately demanded to dye her hair back to its natural color: black.

In the same period, the old man asked his niece, who was living with him, to buy Young Mirae a fresh pair of clothes, underwear of her size, and a first aid kit.

Yes, that woman, the niece of his. Young Mirae recalled that fake smile, which she received in their first meeting.

She had never encountered someone who looked as cunning as a snake other than the piss-elders. She did not mean to be rude, but his niece seemed displeased upon seeing her.

In any case, it appeared that Young Mirae had no twin sister.

How stupid.

Why did it slip from her head? The photograph and documents inside the folder were none other than her new identity that her deceased uncle was pertaining. In her defense, the edited picture looked so real, hence it didn't cross her mind.

But how prepared was her grandfather to create a fake identity for an emergency?

Young Mirae had so many questions left unanswered.

In the present time, with two garbage bags in hand, Young Mirae was taking out the trash. She lifted one bag and threw it in the metal garbage container, before lifting the other and doing the same.

She brushed her hand to shake off the dirt. After finishing her task, a question came into mind. She wanted to bring up the query to her fake grandfather when she returned to the deserted bar.

Young Mirae walked to the stairs and descended to the lower first floor. She passed to the ceiling lights that gave a dim light and pulled out a shade. Halting before the frosted glass door, she turned the knob and slowly pushed it open.

The bar was not a modern one. It stunk like a classic one decorated in black, bronze, brown, and golds. The wooden chairs and tables smelled tarnished. It appeared wearing suits and ties would be an obligation before coming in.

A lot of ceiling lights were hanging above the counter as she headed there. Currently, there were no customers as her fake grandfather stated that they would appear an hour before midnight.

"Hey, fake grand-gran." She gave the liquors sitting on the shelves a brief gaze before she looked at the one she was talking to.

"Stop calling me that, I'm no grandfather of yours nor a fake one," he replied. A cigarette in his mouth was moving up and down while he was speaking.

"Then should I call you fake uncle instead, fake grand-gran?"

"No, you can't."

How would she address this old grumpy person? He would not even allow her to call him by her name, nor tell her what it was.

Young Mirae shook off his rejection and placed her ass on the leathered stool chair before inquiring, "Are you someone close to my grand-gran? You know much about my family and how our organization works. Maybe…you're an ex-crew member—"

Leaning her elbows on the countertop while resting her chin on her palms, she observed the old man occupied with wiping the glasses and mugs dry. The absorbed fake grandfather refused to look at her and simply spoke, "Neither and never. I've answered them now, so focus on cleaning, child."

Not lying to herself, it was disappointing to Young Mirae when she discovered he was not one of her grandfather's people. But she disregarded it in an instant, since she still had questions that needed answers.

"Why did you say that this bar is not available to 'normal' people? Are most of your customers' law offenders or somethin'?"

"You surprisingly have so many questions in that tiny head of yours."

"But you did not disagree with them, right? Because it's true, and you've seen many." Young Mirae pulled an item in her white dress shirt's pocket before placing it on the counter. "Have you met the people who wear this brooch?"

"Baek Sunhi."

She looked at the old man who stopped from his actions before a loud pound banged her eardrums. Her heart started racing as he slammed the mug he was holding on the countertop installed between them.

"...Call me Young Mirae when we're alone," she directed, wanting to match the growling tone of his voice, yet she failed.

"Baek Sunhi, clean the comfort rooms." He raised a finger and poked her shoulder. By his touch, Young Mirae felt the tingle of pain from the accident last night, which she almost forgot.

"Now," commanded another rumble from the fake grandfather who pushed her bruised shoulder.

...

How bossy!

Poking her wound was not necessary to make her move!

Tsk, that old man was much grumpier and harder to deal with than Kyung. Young Mirae thumped the mop on the floor. She took off the rubber gloves, then washed her hand and played with the brooch she pulled from her pocket.

"Fuck it. I hate dirty things, but I also hate cleaning."

She rolled the brooch on her knuckles before throwing it in the air and snagged it. She surveyed the item closely, verified the brooch made of actual silver. The cross brooch had two kinds of stone attached: one was aquamarine and the other was sapphire.

Every mafia family had a distinguishable mark on them, such as tattoos and more other stuff. But this one mafia family that she desired to track down carried a blue cross brooch pinned on their clothes.

'They're too flashy. What a show-off,' she thought.

She would not want her people to carry such an ostentatious brooch. Her grandfather would have thought the same thing. No wonder he decided their distinction would be a permanent symbol imprinted on the skin. Not a normal tattoo, but a body branding.

Young Mirae had one on the back of her left waist. She had hers done when she was young. She was foolishly jealous of the crewmen that they had theirs when she had none.

Her granny and grand-gran were against it. Yet no one could stop her from getting what she wanted. Thus, when everyone was out of the warehouse, she branded herself without knowing the measure of the pain.

Looking back, she was too brave when she was little. But after the incident, she listened obediently to her grandparents as she cried in anguish for days.

'...I want to smoke.'

Recalling the past and what had happened yesterday, suddenly, she craved a cigarette. Young Mirae hadn't had one since this morning because of the absence of a lighter. More likely, she could not get one.

Besides, she also swapped the pack of cigarettes she had to that deceiver female employee of the chicken store.

'Right, my fucking food.'

Picking up the mop again, she inserted the brooch back inside her pocket. Young Mirae had finished cleaning the comfort room, thus she thought she could bother the fake grandfather again. When she pushed the door open, she just noticed that the bar was receiving customers.

"Fake grand-gran," she called the old man serving the only table occupied.

"Get back in there and finish what you're doing."

"I am done cleaning the comfort room—"

Before she could end her statement, a gunshot interrupted her from speaking. The blow rang in her ear, deafening her in a quick moment. Hastily adjusting herself, Young Mirae listened to the shouts that echoed through the place after the gunshot.

"Damn it, you are not supposed to shoot him beforehand! We didn't even get enough evidence, fuck!"

"Sorry, man! My finger slipped!"