Chp 2: No Room for Hesitation24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡE9FcGipSXe
The streets never felt this quiet before.
Joon walked with his hands in his pockets, head down. His jacket was zipped up, the collar pulled high, but the cold still found its way to his skin. It wasn't the wind or the temperature — it was the weight sitting on his chest.
Golgotha.
The word gnawed at him, over and over. He couldn't shake it. It sounded wrong — like something that didn't belong here, in Seoul, or anywhere close to his life.
He made it halfway to the subway station before he realized his hands were shaking. He wasn't cold. He was furious.
Min-Jae wasn't supposed to be a part of this world. Joon made sure of that. He worked his ass off to keep him out of back-alley deals, street fights, and all the filth he'd clawed his own way through.
But here they were.
The subway station yawned open beneath him, the escalator humming softly. He didn't take it — he walked down the stairs two at a time, his steps heavy and purposeful. The station was half-empty, just a few late-night commuters scattered on benches or leaning against pillars.
He needed to think.
Woo-sung would be checking his contacts, but that wasn't enough. Joon needed to be ahead of this, ahead of whatever the hell "Golgotha" was.
He leaned against a concrete column near the platform, tilting his head back. His eyes stared at the ceiling, but his mind wasn't there.
He thought about Min-Jae. His brother's laugh, loud and reckless. The way he used to follow Joon everywhere, even when he wasn't wanted. The way he looked up to him, even when Joon didn't deserve it.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
The sound of footsteps pulled him back. Not the soft shuffle of commuters — these were heavier, deliberate.
Joon didn't turn right away. He listened. Two sets of footsteps. Close. One slower than the other.
He glanced sideways, catching their reflection in the glass of a vending machine. Two men. Both dressed too clean for this part of town. Dark suits. One of them had his hands tucked into his coat. The other's eyes flicked around the station, restless.
Joon didn't like it.
The subway rumbled in the distance, the tunnel vibrating faintly. He shifted his weight, keeping them in his peripheral vision. The slower one — the one with his hands in his coat — moved closer.
Joon felt it before it happened.
The man lunged.
Joon spun just in time, the man's arm slicing past him. A knife — short, curved. Joon didn't think, he reacted. His hand shot out, grabbing the man's wrist and twisting hard. The knife clattered to the ground.
The second man was already moving. Joon ducked under the first punch, his fist slamming into the guy's ribs. The man grunted but didn't go down.
These guys are trained.
The first one came back at him fast, swinging low. Joon blocked with his forearm and drove his elbow into the man's jaw. The crunch was sickening. He went down.
The second one didn't hesitate. He came in hard, aiming for Joon's throat. Joon barely dodged, the edge of the punch grazing his collarbone. He caught the man's wrist and yanked him forward, using his momentum to slam him into the subway pillar.
The guy slumped to the ground, dazed.
Joon stood over them, breathing hard. His fists ached. Blood trickled from a cut on his knuckle.
One of the men groaned. Joon grabbed him by the collar and hauled him upright.
"Who sent you?" Joon's voice was low, cold.
The man coughed, spitting blood onto the floor. He tried to laugh, but it came out broken. "You're already dead, Joon." His voice rasped. "You just don't know it yet."
Joon's grip tightened. "Who's Golgotha?"
The man's bloody grin widened. He didn't answer.
The subway screamed into the station behind him. The wind from the tunnel blasted past, ruffling Joon's hair.
The man whispered something, too quiet to hear.
Joon leaned in. "What?"
The man's eyes flicked to the tracks. He grinned again.
"You'll see him soon."
He lunged, yanking Joon forward.
Joon barely caught himself, twisting as the man tried to throw them both onto the tracks. He slammed the guy against the pillar one last time. The man went limp.
The subway doors hissed open behind him.
Joon didn't move for a second. His heart was pounding.
He let the man drop to the ground. He wasn't getting anything out of him now.
He turned and walked onto the train without looking back.
The ride was silent. Joon stared at his reflection in the window, his own eyes hollow and unfamiliar. His head throbbed.
Golgotha wasn't a name anymore. It was a promise.
And whoever these men were — they weren't the last.
Joon wasn't scared of them. He wasn't scared of Golgotha.
He was scared of what he might have to do to get his brother back.
And he wasn't sure who he'd be when it was over.
____________________________________________________
Joon stepped off the subway, his pulse still hammering in his ears. The men he'd left behind at the station wouldn't stay down forever, but he wasn't worried about them. They weren't the real problem. They were messengers.
And the message was clear: Someone wanted him dead.
The platform was nearly empty, the fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead. A janitor pushed a mop across the tiles near the stairwell, barely glancing at him. Joon rolled his shoulders, wincing at the dull ache settling in his muscles.
His apartment was too far. He needed somewhere closer. Somewhere safe.
His feet carried him automatically. Past the neon-lit storefronts, past the vending machines humming under the glow of streetlights. His mind was still replaying the fight, analyzing every move, every mistake.
You'll see him soon.
The man's words wouldn't leave him.
Golgotha.
Who the hell was Golgotha?
Joon turned down a side street, his hands tightening into fists. He needed answers, and there was only one person who might have them tonight.
Fifteen minutes later, he was standing outside a run-down boxing gym in Itaewon. The building had seen better days, its sign flickering against the dark sky. The scent of sweat and old leather seeped through the walls.
Joon pushed open the door.
Inside, the gym was nearly empty. A single punching bag swayed from the force of a heavy strike. A man stood in front of it, fists wrapped, muscles taut under the dim light.
Kyung-soo.
He didn't look up as Joon approached. Just kept throwing punches, each one landing with a solid thud.
"I heard you got soft," Kyung-soo muttered.
Joon exhaled sharply. "Yeah? And I heard you still run your mouth too much."
A smirk. The first sign of acknowledgment. Kyung-soo finally turned, eyes scanning Joon from head to toe.
"You look like hell."
Joon ignored the jab. "I need information."
Kyung-soo's smirk faded. He grabbed a towel from a nearby bench, wiping his face before tossing it over his shoulder. "About what?"
Joon hesitated. He didn't like bringing Min-Jae into this world. But he was already in it.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the cracked phone, holding it up. "My brother's missing."
Kyung-soo's eyes flicked to the phone, then back to Joon. "And you think I know something?"
"I think you hear things." Joon stepped closer. "I think you know who's pulling strings in the dark."
Kyung-soo was silent. His gaze was unreadable.
Then, he sighed. "Come on."
He led Joon to a back room—small, cluttered, barely lit. The faint hum of an old fridge filled the silence. Kyung-soo leaned against the desk, arms crossed.
"There's been talk," he admitted. "People disappearing. People turning up dead. Quiet deaths. No mess, no news. Just... gone."
Joon's jaw tightened. "Who's behind it?"
Kyung-soo shook his head. "No one knows. But the name Golgotha—it's been floating around."
Joon felt a chill creep down his spine.
"I heard it once before," Kyung-soo continued, voice lower now. "Years ago. When someone disappeared, and no one asked questions. Like a ghost."
Joon clenched his fists. "That's not enough."
Kyung-soo studied him for a long moment. Then, he leaned forward, voice barely above a whisper.
"There's a place," he said. "Old warehouse near Hangang. People say if you go looking for answers there... you don't come back."
Joon didn't hesitate. "Where exactly?"
Kyung-soo exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. "You really want to do this?"
"I don't have a choice."
Kyung-soo stared at him, then finally, reluctantly, gave him the address.
Joon pocketed it without another word.
As he turned to leave, Kyung-soo spoke again.
"You're good, Joon. But if this Golgotha guy is real?" He hesitated. "You're walking into something bigger than just your brother."
Joon didn't turn around.
"Then I guess I'll just have to tear it down."
End of Chapter 2
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