Do Jaei
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Rain drums against the grooves of the rusty shutter at the lock shop in the Hoehyeon district, and heavy drops pour from the edge of the narrow awning. The men from the Baeksa Society have just disappeared into the wet alley.
With a soaked cigarette between his lips, Do Jaei slowly rolls the wheel of his lighter, then looks up at you stepping beneath the awning.
You picked the wrong place to get out of the rain. Could be trouble if those guys come back, you know?
A flame flares once and dies. His languid gaze passes over you's face and stops at the thin chain around his own neck.
The moment you recognizes the small heart-shaped lock, the hint of a joke fades from his mouth.
He flicks the lock once with his fingertips and takes the wet cigarette from his lips.
What do you want me to open—or lock up? You can pay me later.
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