14: TERRORS OF THE NIGHT

"So Faded," by Bevy Maco

                “Those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty. This I declare of the Lord: He alone is my refuge, my place of safety.”

                Naeil could only partially listen what Pastor Lee was talking about. She sat on her hands, squirming from side to side. Everyone in church listened to the old pastor’s words in silence, some calm, some sleepy, some leaning forward. Not Naeil. No, Naeil’s mind was much too occupied.

                Yoongi’s words replayed in her mind over and over again. “Sorry to tell you, but your pastor friend has gotten on the wrong side of some really nasty people.” The image was poignantly clear in her mind: the group men standing just across the street, their stark black suits darkening those misty windows, indistinct faces just blurs, hiding whatever ugly intent might lie in the pits of their eyes. Naeil shivered.

                “He will cover you with his feathers,” Pastor Lee went on. His gentle, earthy tone made every word feel warm. “He will shelter you with his wings.”

                Pastor Lee smiled as he looked up from the old Bible he had been reading from. Naeil didn’t even hear the words he was saying anymore. She just saw his eyes, soft and wrinkled at the edges, looking from face to face in the crowd as if he was looking around at his own children.

                No. Please. Not him. Anyone. Me. Not him.

                Who were those men? What sort of ‘nasty people’ were keeping their eyes on the church? Gangsters? But in gangsters like that in Seoul—it didn’t make any sense. Seoul hadn’t had problems with real gangsters in years. Only people from Jeolla Province, or maybe Busan, dealt with those kinds of people. Why would there suddenly be people like that here?

                And what did Yoongi mean when he said the police wouldn’t care? Wouldn’t they care if gangsters were causing problems in Seoul?

                “He must be crazy,” Naeil murmured aloud. Her mom, sitting in the next seat, glanced at her daughter like she was crazy.

                “Sorry,” said Naeil, looking back up at Pastor Lee.

                I’ll just have to do something about this myself. If the police didn’t care, then Naeil would just take things into her own hands. It wasn’t exactly the best option. What would she do, just walk over there ask those men what they want? Not the best idea. Someone would have to come with her.

                Naeil blew air out of and slumped in her chair, looking up at the ceiling and trying to recollect all the fighting techniques she had learned throughout her life. The possibility of guns was problematic…

                Naeil’s eyes settled back onto Pastor Lee.

                “Do not be afraid of the terrors of the night,” he was saying.

                Naeil shook her head.

                God, am I crazy? You might want to stop me now before I do something really insane.

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                “Sungchuuuul!” shouted Naeil, waving her arms at him dramatically from across the church’s sanctuary. She ignored the confused looks from other people and continued calling out for him until he turned and waved back. Naeil motioned for him to come over, but he just gave her a confused look. Naeil sighed. Nobody ever left church right after the service, and it felt almost impossible to get across the room with all the people talking in the walkways.

                “Excuse me—sorry—sorry, behind you—thanks—”

                Naeil squirmed her way to the front of the church, where Sungchul seemed to be engaged in a lively conversation with his friends about Naruto. It made Naeil smile. Sungchul would probably be a nerd forever, but it just made him that much more likeable.

                Sungchul and Naeil had known each other for a long time. When she was in middle school, he had arrived at Seoul for college and started attending the church in his sophomore year. They got to know each other when he showed up at her Judo dojo to take advanced class. Whenever she asked him about certain moves or techniques, he was happy to help. Naeil liked being around him, mostly because to a child, he seemed like the coolest person ever.

                Somewhere along the way, Sungchul started looking after her like an older brother. He was almost thirty now, and since Naeil would soon be in college, he wouldn’t stop telling her how she “grew up too fast,” which made Naeil tell him to stop talking like an old man and get married already, which made Sungchul sadly lament his fading dreams of a loving wife and five little children, which made Naeil feel bad about bringing up the topic in the first place.

                If there was anyone who might help her predicament, it would be him. Not just because he was trustworthy, but because where he had come from—Mokpo, a city infamous for its gang activity. He didn’t talk about it much, but Naeil knew Sungchul wasn’t from the nicest neighborhood. He wasn’t a stranger to violence.

                “Oppa.” [Everyone knows what this means but just remember it’s not always romantic, it’s also what girls call their older brothers or a close male friend]

                Sungchul looked over at Naeil. His mouth opened to ask what was wrong, but after seeing Naeil’s expression, he just left the group of friends he was with and took her aside. A frown grew on his face, matching Naeil’s.

                “Yah, what’s up with that face, huh?”

                Sungchul (sort of gently) whacked Naeil across the shoulder.

                “Is it about school? Your mom—?”

                His eyes narrowed.

                “Some punk?”

                “Come on,” scoffed Naeil. “You know I wouldn’t get bothered over something like that. It’s…” Naeil sighed. “It’s about Pastor Lee.”

                “Huh?”

                Wringing her hands together, Naeil tried to think of the best way to explain.

                “I…well, the other day I was on the roof.”

                “I thought your mom didn’t like that.”

                “Right, well…”

                “You sneak—”

                “And, you see, what happened was, this guy showed up, you know the one who comes to play the piano sometimes?”

                “Green-hair guy? I don’t trust him.”

                “I didn’t say I did, but anyway, he pointed out these men who were watching the church from that old building across the street—”

                “What?”

                “And he said that Pastor Lee is in trouble—”

                “What?!”

                “And, well, I don’t even know if I should believe him, and I thought maybe we should check into it, or call the police, or something, but maybe he was mistaken about those men, or maybe—because, he also said the police wouldn’t care if we called—”

                “What does that mean?”

                “I don’t know. But I was thinking…we should really look into it. I saw those men there again on Thursday and Friday. I just don’t like the looks of it at all—”

                “What about now?”

                “Huh? Oh, well, they usually show up in the evening.”

                “Evening, huh?” Sungchul paused to think for a while. His eyes twirled upward in his head, as if calculating something. He looked back at Naeil. “Tonight. After the evening service. I’ll look into it. If it looks serious, we’re calling the police.”

                “Are you sure?”

                “I’m not going to sit around here waiting, that’s for sure.”

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                Yoongi was okay. Really, he was. His non-stop, circular pacing in Namjoon’s tiny room was just a byproduct of the intense problem-solving session going on in his brain.

                But really. He was okay.

                “GOOD GRIEF HYUNG what the hell is wrong with you?!” shouted Namjoon, frustrated at Yoongi’s ceaseless movement in the cramped space of his home. “I swear, you’re going to grind a freaking hole into my floor with your feet.”

                Yoongi stopped. He looked up at Namjoon, lips pursed together.

                “I shouldn’t have told her, should I?”

                Namjoon flung his head backward and sighed a very long and exasperated sigh.

                “I probably could have dealt with it alone,” growled Yoongi. "Why did I go and tell her such a useless thing? Now I have to deal with this big mess. So irritating.”

                “Look,” said Namjoon, leaning forward, “She was going to find out eventually, anyway.”

                Yoongi glanced at the door.

                “You don’t think…she’d stick her nose into it, do you? Not on a Sunday, right? Isn’t there something in the Bible about that?”

                “I’ve never even seen the girl. No idea what she’ll do.”

                “Yeah. I guess…”

                The pause lasted forty more seconds before Yoongi grabbed his hoodie and dashed out the door.

Author’s Note

YEAH GO YOONGI WOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!

I feel like the beginning of this chapter was so melodramatic. I like to make fun of drama but there’s a secret part of me that’s delighted every time I write something that’s a little extra. But it’s okay we all need a little melodrama every once in a while.

Y’all Sungchul is also based off real peeps in my life. This is like my childhood story. But with more Koreans and gangsters. I guess I’m sad that there weren’t more Koreans in my childhood (except Phil, Phil was so cool) but I can’t say I’m sad there weren’t more gangsters.

Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it :)