Destruction — Chapter 17
by BrieThe director tripped in his panic and scrambled to his feet with a devastated look, his hands trembling as they reached for the boy’s slack face.
“I need something to stop the bleeding. Please grab some cloth from the bag—something made of fabric.”
Though his voice was calm, Woobeom’s face was drenched in cold sweat. He’d seen many lives fade away—gruesome deaths, unjust deaths. But none had ever shaken him like this.
The director returned, clutching a T-shirt, eyes squeezed shut. He couldn’t bear to look at Saejin’s wound. When Woobeom lifted the shirt to press it against the injury, the damage was worse than expected. Thick blood oozed freely from the torn flesh. As the T-shirt soaked through, Woobeom pressed down harder, biting his inner cheek.
‘It’s going to need stitches.’
A cut like this wasn’t something that could be fixed with pressure alone. But there was nothing on hand to sew the skin back together.
“Sir, can you check if there’s a pharmacy nearby?”
If he eased up for even a second, the blood would spill again. Woobeom had no choice but to ask the director to look for supplies. The man scanned the surroundings frantically and suddenly pointed in a direction with a hopeful shout.
“There! Next to the restaurant!”
But that led to another problem—Woobeom couldn’t leave while pressing on Saejin’s wound, and sending the elderly director alone wasn’t an option either.
‘…I can’t leave him in charge of this.’
If it were a minor wound, maybe. But with a stab this deep, even a slight miscalculation could make the bleeding worse. If blood kept seeping out while trying to stop it, Saejin might bleed out before they even had a chance to treat it.
Understanding Woobeom’s dilemma, the director volunteered without hesitation.
“I was hiding the whole time while you two were fighting. I’ll feel better if I can at least be of some help now.”
“Sir.”
“It looks like the infected are all gone now. As long as I’m careful, I’ll be fine.”
Despite Woobeom’s firm tone, the director didn’t back down and drove in the final wedge.
“He’s like a son to me… I can’t just stand by and watch something happen to him. Please, let me go.”
“….”
Hearing that desperate plea, Woobeom’s lips parted slightly. He still remembered all too well what it was like to lose someone precious. He could understand the director’s fear—he didn’t want to lose Saejin either. Which meant, in the end, there was only one option.
“I need disinfectant, bandages, gauze, surgical thread and a needle. If they don’t have thread and a needle, please see if there’s any suture tape.”
The director nodded solemnly, but Saejin, barely breathing, murmured weakly and tried to stop him.
“N… No… please don’t…”
It seemed hard for him even to speak. His eyes, barely open, began to well up. The director turned his head, pretending not to hear, then started toward the pharmacy.
“Hyung… Stop him… Please… stop him…”
His abdomen burned too much for him to get the words out. Clinging to Woobeom, Saejin begged with tearful urgency not to let the director go. His pleading made Woobeom’s heart ache, but he couldn’t give in. He bit the inside of his mouth and swallowed his emotions.
Saejin’s gasping began to slow. With each labored breath, his chest heaved unsteadily, making Woobeom pull him closer. He couldn’t relax, not even for a second—he felt like Saejin would die the moment he let go. Saejin had never experienced the pain of being stabbed before. If more time passed, shock might kill him.
‘The pills.’
Panicking, Woobeom remembered the medication the director had been taking. It had sedative and anesthetic effects—if he could get Saejin to take some, it might help dull the pain. Laying him gently on the ground, Woobeom took out the pills and cut one into smaller pieces. The full dose was too strong; he only needed Saejin to take a little.
“Yoon Saejin.”
He gently shook him awake, placed the pill in his mouth, and tried to give him water—but Saejin couldn’t swallow. The liquid just dribbled out the corner of his lips.
‘…I don’t have a choice.’
Woobeom took a mouthful of water from the tumbler, then gently cupped Saejin’s jaw to open his mouth. He leaned in and pressed his lips to Saejin’s, letting the water flow in along with his breath.
Eventually, there came the faint sound of Saejin swallowing with effort.
“Ugh…”
He let out a soft groan, coughed a few times, and then caught his breath. The pain in his brow began to ease, indicating that the drug was taking effect.
“Hyung…”
Saejin weakly grasped the hand Woobeom was pressing against his abdomen. His arm was limp, like it could fall at any second.
“…Yeah.”
Looking down at Saejin crumbling in his arms, Woobeom felt like he was losing his mind. He looked just like his brother had—as if he could die at any moment. Woobeom couldn’t look away.
— Hyung, it’s okay if you think of me like your real little brother.
— …Damn it.
The words Saejin had said at the convenience store echoed in his mind. Woobeom bit down hard on his inner cheek again.
“I’m not going to die, right…?”
“Don’t talk like that. You won’t die from something like this.”
“Yeah… since you’re a gangster, you’ve probably… ngh… seen worse. For some reason, I believe you now.”
“…The way you’re still running your mouth, you must not be dying. Shut up, or I won’t be able to stop the bleeding.”
“Right, okay… Hyung, if I… actually, never mind. In movies, saying that kind of thing always means someone’s about to die.”
“…Ha.”
The way Saejin chuckled told Woobeom that the drug was starting to cause mild hallucinations. He mumbled a few things under his breath and closed his eyes. Soon, his breathing evened out with the sleep-inducing effect.
Woobeom immediately checked his pulse. Thump, thump, thump. It was faint, but clear. He silently counted each heartbeat, trying to calm himself.
It felt like about five minutes had passed. Considering the pharmacy was supposedly nearby, the director was taking longer than expected. Was he having trouble finding the supplies? Or had other survivors gotten to the medicine first? Just as a flood of worry filled his head, he heard hurried footsteps. The director came running, arms full of supplies.
“How is our Saejin?!”
Without a moment to catch his breath, the director set the supplies down and checked Saejin’s condition. But he stayed oddly far away, hesitant to get too close.
His sudden distance was strange, but tending to Saejin was more urgent. Woobeom quickly scanned the items the director had brought. Thankfully, there were surgical needles and thread among them.
“There’s a lot of glass in the back seat. Could you clear it out? I’ll need to lay him down after stitching him up.”
Knowing that the suturing process wouldn’t be pleasant to look at, Woobeom gave the director a task that would keep him turned away. Once he confirmed the director had gone into the car, he disinfected his hands. He would need to stitch the wound as quickly as possible to prevent secondary infection.
Only after layering gauze over the stitched wound and wrapping it with a bandage did Woobeom allow himself a breath of relief. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, then gently lifted Saejin and headed toward the open rear car door. The director, who had been standing nearby, watching anxiously, finally spoke.
“Is it done?”
“Fortunately, none of the internal organs were damaged. As long as he’s careful not to strain the wound, it should heal quickly.”
Woobeom laid Saejin down on the cleared back seat and pressed a hand to his forehead to check his temperature. His body was unnaturally cold, so Woobeom cranked the car heater and stepped outside.
Ever since returning from the pharmacy, the director had been keeping an odd distance. Just as Woobeom was about to get irritated by his vague behavior, a plausible guess crossed his mind—maybe it was because he’d witnessed the fight. From the director’s perspective, seeing someone die like that might’ve been too much to handle.
“By the way… those two still haven’t returned? They said they were going to the restroom, but it’s taking far too long…”
The director voiced his concern, wondering if Choi Daeseok and Go Jeongju had run into infected and met a bad end. They needed to leave the rest stop as soon as possible, yet the two men hadn’t come back. The director even suggested going to look for them himself.
‘He won’t listen if I just say we should leave them.’
Though they hadn’t known each other long, Woobeom had a decent read on the director’s personality. If he suggested leaving the assistant teachers behind, the director would surely refuse. Which meant he had to tell him the truth—that they were already dead. And explain why they died. Only with all the facts would the director be able to accept the situation and, for Saejin’s sake, make the wise choice.
‘Maybe he thinks Saejin caught it from them…’
Whether the truth shocked the director or not, he needed to understand the reality. But for some reason, Woobeom’s lips wouldn’t part. He didn’t know how to begin. It was frustrating.
“Choi Daeseok and Go Jeongju won’t be coming back.”
“What…?”
“This may take a while to explain. Could we sit down for a moment and talk?”
Woobeom pointed to a nearby picnic-style bench. The director clutched his chest and walked over with difficulty. He looked visibly out of breath, so Woobeom asked if something was wrong, but the director just waved it off.
They sat across from each other. Woobeom made sure to keep his hands out of the director’s line of sight—he hadn’t had a chance to wash up since treating Saejin, and they were still stained with blood. The boy the director thought of like a son was barely hanging on, so there was no need to add to his distress.
“After the assistant director arrived, the orphanage probably started running strangely well, didn’t it?”
“…How do you know that?”
“There were probably a lot of adoption inquiries. Most likely under the guise of overseas adoptions.”
The director flinched. Woobeom knew the orphanage’s inner workings far too well, even though he hadn’t been there at the time. That alone raised suspicion, but what the director focused on was the ominous way he’d said under the guise of adoption.
How could he explain this in a way the director would believe? Woobeom wasn’t skilled in eloquent speech—he’d always relied on blunt honesty. So, he tilted his head slightly and came to a decision. Better to just lay things out exactly as they were. After all, the person most closely tied to this whole matter was the director himself. He had a right to know the truth.
“It might not feel real, but the assistant director assigned to your orphanage is connected to a criminal organization.”
“……”
“The group he belongs to is a human trafficking ring.”
“That can’t be… Why would someone like that be at an orphanage…?”
“Because someone like that would see an orphanage as the perfect target. It’s easy to move children without anyone noticing.”
“…You’re lying.”
The director, his pupils clouded over, let out a hollow breath and clutched at his hair.
“Yes, I understand how hard this is to believe. But this is the proof that children were sold to China.”
Who could easily accept a statement like: “The place you ran was taken over by gangsters. Your children were trafficked to China.” Woobeom had expected the director would struggle to believe him. It was only natural—people’s defense mechanisms kicked in. That’s why he presented the evidence: Choi Daeseok’s phone.
“This belonged to the assistant teacher, Choi Daeseok.”
On the phone placed at the center of the table were clear text message records of dealings with the organization.
- July 12, 20XX –
[ Me: Male, 6 years old. Transfer to port on July 12. ]
[ Dove: Confirmed. ] - August 25, 20XX –
[ Me: Male, 12 years old. Transfer to port on August 25. ]
[ Dove: Confirmed. ] - September 1, 20XX –
[ Me: Female, 8 years old. Transfer to port on September 1. ]
[ Dove: Confirmed. ]
.
.
.
- December 16, 20XX –
[ Me: Male, 7 years old. Transfer to port on December 16. ]
[ Dove: Confirmed. ]
[ Me: Transaction canceled. ]
[ Dove: Reason? ]
[ Me: Suspicion arose. Need to reschedule. Postponed to next week. ]
[ Dove: Confirmed. ]
It was an unbelievable string of messages. Dates, ages, and genders. Even without names, it was easy to guess who each child was. The message from December 16 hit the hardest. It was a familiar date. The director immediately recalled the events of the past week.