BIA Ch. 41

Chester’s plan was half a success and half a failure. For starters, the Martino Family wouldn’t even think about coming near Chester’s territory again. Moreover, Chester—or rather, Manny—had cleverly only killed the small fry, so it didn’t escalate into a war between organizations. Even if it did turn into an organizational fight, the Martino gang was the one that provided the initial cause, so we clearly had the advantage.

Instead, Chester’s reputation within the Kalisz Family was completely shattered. It was only natural. One of the unwritten rules of the mafia was that any issues that occurred within the organization had to be resolved within the organization. No matter what, you shouldn’t borrow outside help. But Chester had clearly resolved it by borrowing outside help.

“I don’t know what he’s trying to do.”

Even Samuel would sigh and say that whenever we talked on the phone. At the time, I was staying in Russia, so I only received reports over the phone, but even through the phone, I could roughly guess how grim the atmosphere within the organization was.

“Well, he must have something in mind.”

“Does he? Chester?”

Samuel was skeptical. In his opinion, it seemed like he had acted first and planned later, but since he couldn’t come up with a good idea, he just seemed to have given up.

“He’s still flirting around with his boyfriend.”

“Come to think of it, I heard he brought a guy from Florida.”

Right before I left for Russia, Chester had gone on vacation to Florida. And he returned with a guy he had hit it off with there. Unfortunately, I left the day before he came back, so I didn’t get to meet him.

“Wasn’t he Chinese?”

“He’s American. I think he was of Korean descent.”

A guy that Chester met in another area and came back with right before he caused trouble.

With such coincidental timing, it was only natural to be suspicious first. Was it so suspicious that no one was suspicious at all?

“Well, you’ll understand when you see him in person.”

I didn’t know what he meant, but as soon as I saw him, I understood.

“Isaiah? That guy sitting in the corner over there.”

He was probably around 6.1 feet tall. He was taller than I thought. And his shoulders were as broad as his height. But since his frame wasn’t particularly thick, he gave off an overall impression of being thin. He was wearing black clothes from head to toe, which made him look even thinner.

And maybe it was because of his pale complexion, but despite his cool and handsome face, he had a somewhat precarious feel to him. He was sitting at the bar, not moving an inch, just staring intently at the ginger ale he had ordered, and I felt like asking if something bad had happened at home.

I wondered where that kind of vibe came from, and then I noticed his pupils were large compared to the size of his eyes. And it wasn’t just that they were big, but they were also watery, as if he had been crying. Most Asians tend to look younger than their age, but this guy looked even younger. I could have believed he was a college student, and I think that was largely due to his eyes.

Only then did I understand what Samuel meant. Because when you think of a sniper, there’s a common stereotype. It was only natural that no one would think that a tall, childish-looking guy like him would be holding a sniper rifle and blowing people’s heads off.

I asked Gray, the bartender at Mountain Dog.

“Does he come here often?”

“He only seems to come on days when he fights with Chester.”

“So he doesn’t come often.”

“No, he comes almost every day.”

And indeed, the guy came the next day, and the day after that. The day after that, he went out with a guy I had never seen before. A Swedish guy with a build of almost 2 meters, a completely different type from Chester. While talking to the guy, his eyes narrowed slightly, and there was a different light in his pupils. Because of that, he didn’t look quite his age, but he did look to be in his late twenties.

“I heard his sex tastes are surprisingly extreme. He likes being punished.”

Gray whispered. Anyway, the dogs at Mountain Dog loved to bark about other people’s business.

That day, when I got home and logged onto the dark web, there was a link sent by Edgar Derby. As soon as I clicked on the link, a compressed file was downloaded. It was the investigation data on Isaiah Cole that I had requested a few days ago.

Isaiah Cole, real name Isaiah Cole. A Korean-American whose name before his first adoption was Lee Jaehee. His name at the time of his first adoption was Isaiah Cleveland. Later, after evidence of abuse by his adoptive parents was revealed, he was admitted to the St. John Bosco Monastery Child and Youth Protection Center in Eloy City by order of the Child Welfare Agency.

St. John Bosco Monastery Child and Youth Protection Center.

Suddenly, a face flashed in my mind. A Korean kid who had been there at the same time as me. There were some Chinese kids, but Korean kids were rare, so I thought it was strange even back then. That kid’s name was Lee. Although no one called him Lee.

Despite the strong impression that made it possible to recall him so easily, the reason I hadn’t connected the two of them earlier was because there was no trace of his childhood face left.

He was a small, thin kid. No, that was too mild of an expression. It made it sound like he simply had poor development. He wasn’t just like that. His arms and legs were emaciated, and his neck was so weak that it was always half-bent. His eyes were unfocused, and they were always bloodshot because he rubbed them too often.

I heard he started doing drugs around the age of ten. Of course, it wasn’t his choice, his parents had forced him to take them. His parents were followers of a cult, and they stated that they did it because they wanted the child to be quiet at church. The problem was that his parents were such fervent followers that they went to church twice every morning and evening. And if it was simply to calm the child down, sedatives prescribed by a hospital would have been enough. But the fact that they specifically used drugs, well, maybe that was how their doctrine was. Maybe it was a way to be closer to God. Cults were originally like that. They were groups that willingly created new interpretations of the holy scriptures and doctrines to satisfy their own desires.

He was definitely a pitiful guy. It wasn’t enough that he was abandoned by his parents as soon as he was born, but he was adopted by those psychopaths.

But there were plenty of kids with that kind of story in that orphanage. Of course, there were many cases that were even worse. His story was unique, but it wasn’t special.

But there was another reason why I remembered him, Lee.

It was the fall of my second year of high school. I remember it was the evening before a test, either chemistry or physics. Anyway, an unexpected bug flew in, and I couldn’t study at all.

Did someone leave leftover bread or snacks at the entrance of the building again? Is that why the bugs gathered?

I left the dorm to clear my head, and I was momentarily stunned. Lee was squatting under a big tree on the path leading from the dorm to the cafeteria, and there were swarms of bugs at his feet.

I wondered where all those bugs had gathered from, and then I saw he was spraying something. When I got closer, I was shocked. It was maple syrup. Maple syrup was provided in portions with pancakes for dinner, and he hadn’t eaten it, but had kept it and was now using it to gather bugs.

‘What are you doing? Here?’

I asked, dumbfounded. He didn’t even look at me, his eyes fixed on the bugs gathered near his feet, and said.

‘Just. I wanted to see them.’

‘See what?’

‘Bugs…’

‘Do you like bugs?’

‘No.’

Lee answered immediately.

‘Then why?’

‘What was in my body moved here.’

Only then did I realize that the toxins from the drugs hadn’t completely left his body yet. At the same time, I felt anger towards his adoptive parents, whom I didn’t even know. What kind of drugs did they give this small kid? I knew that Coke bugs^[1] were a symptom that only appeared when taking drugs that were as toxic as cocaine, if not more so.

Whatever the case, this guy wouldn’t live long.

Half with pity, and half with relief, I was looking at the guy crouching at my feet. Suddenly, he raised his head and looked up at me.

Perhaps the light from the bulb on the tree was blinding, his black pupils shrank and then widened again. At the same time, his eyes, which were always unfocused and hazy, sparkled like wet pebbles.

I wasn’t the only one who saw his pupils. He was also looking at my pupils. Because.

‘You have bugs in your eyes too.’

He said that as if he was amazed.