Consequence. The result of tiny, insignificant choices piling up and then overflowing with no end in sight. Like a frog in boiling water, it creeps up, little by little until the heat is all consuming and there is no escape. It’s too late to climb out and you’re left with blisters and reflection. Next time, you won’t make the same mistake. Next time, you’ll turn left. Next time, you’ll stay home. 

But what if “next time” isn’t guaranteed?

 The biggest consequence of all my life decisions couldn’t have been predicted even by the most talented psychic. Like a trail of breadcrumbs that I unconsciously followed, I ended up at the most forbidding gingerbread house. I knew at the beginning it was dangerous and to be avoided, but eventually I would give in and let myself be consumed. It all started out so simple.

Or, maybe it wasn’t that simple. Maybe I only saw it as simple: go or don’t. 

I wanted to see the world. The definition of wanderlust didn’t even begin to describe the feeling I had to run away. I needed a change of pace from my mundane life of going to work, coming home and studying, only to go to bed and wake up for the routine to start over again. I hated it. The suffocation, the repetitiveness, the stifling. I felt that, if I didn’t get out, I would die, wasting away like a zombie stuck walking in circles until it became nothing more than decaying bones no longer held together by the ligaments needed to keep walking. I needed new. I needed different. So, it seemed only logical to pack up my belongings and use up a majority of my savings to move to the other side of the world, to South Korea.

My mother was not happy, to put it mildly. 

She constantly begged me to only make it a short trip, or better yet to go the opposite direction. To Europe, like I had talked about when I was younger. She couldn’t stand the idea of not being close in case something were to happen. What if I got hurt? What if I lost my job? What if my apartment building burnt down? Any worst case scenario that she could come up with, she made sure to pass it on to me in order to make me reconsider. 

But my decision was made. My work visa had already been approved. The conglomerate that had hired me over a Skype meeting was eagerly awaiting my translation skills. Having never worked for a prestigious company, I worried over not being “professional enough” but it was too late to turn back now. I had already given up my apartment and put anything I wasn’t taking with me in storage. This was it. 

It was still a tearful goodbye on both sides when my family dropped me off at the airport. Despite my insistence that I go, I would still miss my parents and siblings. They would be okay, though, and I promised Mom that I would call often and let her know that I was doing alright. Before leaving them behind, I triple checked that I had my passport, visa papers, and other essentials and then walked up to the TSA line to really begin the journey that I thought would be nothing more than a simple adventure I would tell my family a few decades from now. When asked if anything worthwhile happened, I would shrug and say no, nothing beyond exploring the city. 

But I knew nothing as I boarded the plane. I knew nothing about what awaited me. 

**

Six months flew by before I knew it. Translating for the company’s foregin affairs was both an easy job and a difficult one. Not only did I sit in on important meetings, but I also spent hours on emails and brochures and invoices. It’s easy to think you have a handle on a language when you’re in a classroom setting or watching a show. But being thrown into the heart of the country, I was proven just how difficult it could be. Though I could communicate without any issues and I rarely came across a word I didn’t know, the occasional dialect could confuse me, making me feel like an idiot because I couldn’t understand. The frustration emanating from my employers could be felt every time. I wanted to snap and that there were some American or English accents that were also difficult to decipher, but it didn’t matter. My job was to translate and that was it. 

I found ways to unwind, thankfully. Part of me wonders what might have happened if I hadn’t discovered that particular café and chosen it as my designated place of relaxation. It was small, out of the way. A hole-in-the-wall hidden down a street that usually only saw foot traffic. The owner and employees were friendly and never treated me respectfully, but they didn’t necessarily hide the fact that they were fascinated by my foreignness.

I didn’t think hair color would be anything to gawk at with dye becoming more common here, but one of the female baristas still fawned over my dark auburn locks. The shade of my gray eyes received compliments and comments on a nearly daily basis, not all of them good. One time, another patron asked if they were due to a genetic condition. They were simply curious and listened attentively when I explained that they were actually a very light shade of blue. Still, though, it was a bit awkward. So, yes, I stuck out in a crowd here, but I learned to ignore it.

Making friends, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as easy. Every once in a while I would go out with different departments within the company that I frequently interacted with. We would grab dinner or try a new place for a few drinks. Unfortunately, I never really clicked with any of them. They definitely loved the night life of the city, always retelling their adventures that could last until two in the morning. I never was a partier, preferring to stay in with a full glass of wine and a good book curled up on the couch. 

I did go out with Min Hae from marketing a few times, letting her keep me out until well past midnight, thinking that if I just did it enough, I would come to enjoy it. No such luck. Eventually, I gave up and started declining the offers, feigning work or coming down with a cold.

“Wren.”

My fingers hovered above the keyboard. Taking a deep breath, I turned away from the computer to face Min Hae. She was a few years younger than me, but still looked like a teenager. At that moment she was staring at me with puppy dog eyes and a pout that turned the hands of time back even farther. 

“Yes, Min Hae?” I was so used to speaking Korean now that my mind just automatically translated anything.

“I know you don’t like to work on the weekends, but I have a huge favor to ask you.” Her pout deepened as she clutched her hands together in front of her, begging. “Can you please go through the emails that we need translated? We really need them next week to review and figure out the next step of the campaign.”

I sighed. “Did you ask management?” They could be a bit picky about paying over time. 

Min Hae nodded her head excitedly. “Yes, it’s already been approved.”

I should have known she would have already had everything taken care of before coming to me. Min Hae was notorious for being detail oriented. It made her the best at the job. But weekends were important to me. I needed to be able to shut off the anxiety that came with doing a good job and not think about this place for a short amount of time. 

But I also understood that people counted on me and I couldn’t let their department suffer just because I didn’t want to do something. 

Why was I so bad at saying no? “Okay, I’ll do it.”

A high pitched squeal pierced the air as she threw her arms around me. “Thank you! You are the best!”

I patted her back awkwardly, my mind already on this weekend. I would have to make sure that I checked out my company laptop. At least my favorite cafe had internet. 

**

I ran from the bus stop, using my bag to shield my hair from the rain that was cascading from the sky like a waterfall. The tough material was thick enough that the laptop would be safe. The same couldn’t be said for my jacket. 

I was shivering by the time I reached the café. The inside air was cold, making it worse. The stands of my hair were sticking to my neck as I sat down at the counter. After slipping out of my soaked jacket, I twisted my hair up on top of my head and got to work. Taekwoon wordlessly pushed a hot cup of coffee in my direction. He knew I would pay for it before I left. Thankful, I saluted him with the cup and took a sip. He’d even remembered my favorite sweet cream. I made a mental note to bring him a red bean bun the time I came. 

The café was mostly empty save for a few students who were stuffed into the corners, studying for their final exams with headphones on.Concentration mixed with frustration was readable all over their faces. Whatever subject they were focusing on, it wasn’t an easy one. I didn’t miss those days at all. Not that it got much better after graduation. As evident as my working on a Saturday. Maybe things really didn’t change. 

I was engrossed in how to properly translate a sentence that didn’t make sense in English when a man entered the café, setting off the bell above the door. Unable to hold back the natural instinct, I turned my head to watch as the tall man searched around the room with a cautious stare before approaching the counter and planting a smile on his face.

“Hi, can I just get a plain Americano?” he asked Taekwoon, already pulling out his wallet. Taekwoon nodded and punched the order into the register. The stranger then turned to me. “Working hard?”

I blinked. My brain refused to come up with a reply even after spending dedicated energy to absorb his question. And it wasn’t his handsome Korean features that caught me off guard, it was the American-accented English with which he spoke.

“Unfortunately.” I nodded. I shouldn’t have been this surprised. There were plenty of people who had spent their teenage years studying in America or Canada. 

“To be expected,” he laughed. The Americano was quick to make and I expected him to walk out after taking it from Taekwoon, but instead he sat down at the counter in the seat next to mine. “So, you’re American, right?”

I laughed. “That obvious?”

“Not at all,” he said with a hint of sarcasm. A smile lifted one side of his mouth. It was boyish and cute. He held out his hand to me, “I’m John.”

I shook it once before dropping it. “Wren. So, is John just your English name or….” I trailed off. The few Koreans I knew that had been raised in the states had been given both an English name and a Korean one, switching between them or preferring one over the other.

John shook his head. “Nope, just John. Both of my parents were born in the States, so I never had another name.”

“Aw,” I nodded, “makes sense.” I chewed on my bottom lip awkwardly. Small talk was not a strong suit of mine, but it didn’t seem like John was going anywhere any time soon. Besides, I liked having the opportunity to take a break from the emails. There was still plenty of time to finish them later. “So, are you in Seoul for vacation?”

He took a sip of his coffee before answering. “I wish,” he said ruefully. “My… company sent me here on some business. It was cheaper than sending someone else and paying for an interpreter.”

“Understandable.”

John opened his mouth to continue, but a buzzing noise cut him off. Looking down at his smart watch, he sighed. “Seems like I’m being summoned.” He stood up and finished off the drink in only a few gulps. Impressive, but he would be buzzing in a few minutes. “Do you come here often?”

I swallowed back a laugh. It sounded so much like a line. But I answered, “Practically every weekend.”

He smiled. “Well, then, maybe I’ll see you next Saturday.”

I waved goodbye, not believing him for a second. 

But he proved me wrong. And not just once, but over and over again. 

It became an odd little routine. I was always already sitting at the counter, talking to Taekwoon or reading a book or working on translations again. Never coming in at the same time, John would walk through the door and order the same Americano before sitting down on the same stool next to me. We would talk while throwing back too many caffeinated drinks. We would exchange stories of our childhoods and favorite haunts in our respective cities. I told him of how my love of languages and learning new things brought me to learn Korean, followed by the decision to move here as a translator. 

John didn’t give as many details concerning his current life. He spoke plenty of his parents and the dog he had as a child, but nothing of the company he worked for or what they’d sent him to Seoul for. I didn’t pry, not wanting to get him in trouble if it involved trade secrets. But I couldn’t help to notice how his eyes would sometimes flicker to the door in a nervous twitch. Or how he obsessively checked his watch for any incoming messages. There were times I would have to repeat what I said because he hadn’t absorbed any of the words. I worried about my new friend and wondered what kind of business he was actually involved in. 

Admittedly, I ignored any red flags simply because it was nice to speak with someone in English outside of a professional setting. To speak my own thoughts rather than repeating what someone else had said. There was a comfort in that that I hadn’t experienced in a while.

One Saturday, the two of us accidentally spent the entire day in that little cafe. It was dark out and only fifteen minutes until closing. I would have to hurry to catch the bus. John said that he would walk, but he assured me his hotel was nearby and he wouldn’t get lost.

John closed his tab and walked out. I stayed an extra minute to bid Taekwoon a good night and get some water to go. 

The temperature had dropped when I stepped outside. I in a hiss instinctively. The thin long sleeved shirt I put on this morning was doing nothing to protect me from the cold. I tightened my arms around me to trap in what little warmth my body gave off as I headed down the street. 

Then I heard John’s voice. It was rough and every word was in Korean, but I still knew it was him. He was supposed to be going to his hotel. Worried that he might be in trouble, I softly stepped towards the voices that were coming from around the corner, pressing myself against the dirt covered brick wall. 

“Do you have it?” an unknown male asked.

“Of course, I have it,” John growled back.

“It took you long enough.”

“I had to make sure none of them were following me.”

My face scrunched at the sneer John gave out when he said ‘them’. The singular detail he had told me about his company was that they dealt with consultation. Maybe this didn’t have anything to do with his company. This conversation seemed so sinister in nature though. Were your previous thoughts of suspicion actually correct? If that was the case, then I should have walked away. Whatever this was, John had decided that he could handle it. This wasn’t any of my business. But I still considered John a friend. And my feet refused to obey and move. 

Unable to hold back my curiosity of the other man that John was speaking to, I risked a peek around the corner. He was… not what I had expected. Only a couple inches shorter than John, he had an angular face that wasn’t exactly something to be scared of. The suit he wore felt like a costume for the next Godfather sequel, but it didn’t fit him in the slightest; some places were too tight while others were too loose.

“You’re lucky your boss didn’t burn all his bridges back in America,” John scoffed.

The other man wasn’t happy with that retort. “Listen, Park, just because–”

“Well, what do we have here?”

Three more men joined them in the little alley, entering from the entryway opposite of me. Given their stances, they didn’t seem like friends. All three were taller than John, broad and imposing. The other man was starting to visibly shake under the harsh security light.

“Nice to see you, Chanyeol,” John greeted, his voice monotone, but unsurprised.

The tallest one stepped forward. Half of his face was cast in shadow, but I could still make out the scowl on his lips. “Always a pleasure, John. Now hand it over.”

John took a step back while trying to keep a strong stance. His fists balled up at his side. “Not on your life.”

The man - presumably Chanyeol - sighed heavily. “You just can’t make this easy can you?”

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll give it to you, but only if–”

A loud bang went off before John could finish and the other man dropped down to the ground like a puppet without strings. A thick liquid began to spread out around him. Guns from the remaining four men were whipped out, pointing in the direction of the first gunshot. A short scream burst from me before I could stop. Their attention snapped to my direction.

.

I ran.

I cursed at myself for being so stupid. I saw the blood red flags and still chose to keep talking to him, to be too curious rather than staying in your lane. But what was he into? Was he a spy? Was it gang related?

Or something even more sinister?

It didn’t matter anymore. I just needed to get away and pray that I would lose any of them that tried to follow. I didn’t pay attention to where my feet were taking me, just as long as they took me far away from those men. Hands grabbed me and pulled me into a perpendicular alley. 

No! 

I fought against the hold, kicking and squirming to break out of my captivity. One hand clamped over my mouth in order to muffle my screams.

“Wren. Wren, stop, it’s me!” At the sound of John’s voice, I stopped struggling. He sighed in my ear. “Alright, I need you to listen to me. Got it?” I nodded fearfully. I didn’t think he would hurt me, but I couldn’t be too sure. The vice John had on me softend, but not enough for me to get out of it. “Good. Those guys are dangerous. They won’t hesitate to kill you if they think you know something. So, I’m sorry for what I’m about to do next.”

Without warning, John shoved me hard into the wall, the impact of my head against the brick sending me down to the ground. He moved me out of the light, closer to the wall where I could easily be missed from any passersby. I was dazed, barely hearing him tell me to stay here and out of sight until I no longer heard the others. Shaking my head, I watched him leave the alleyway. A spot on the back of my skull stung. I was too afraid to touch in case I made it worse. 

Only a few seconds later, I heard him hiss an explicative. Then he was back. Groaning, I closed my eyes, hoping the aching pain in my head would go away. I heard shuffling, like someone was going through my purse. John shook my shoulder.

“Wren. Wren!” he hissed.

I opened my eyes. He was shoving my cell phone in my face. “Do not lose this, okay? Protect it with your life. It’s important that you understand that!” He shoved the device in to my jacket pocket and zipped the pocket closed.

I groaned again, not understanding. “John.”

He shushed me. “Stay here.” And then he was gone.

It didn’t feel right, staying here. I needed to get away. I needed to get to where it was safe. And maybe to some medicine to ease the headache. I barely managed to rise to my feet, stumbling on the first few steps. Once I was steady, however, I picked up my purse and mulled over which way I needed to go. 

Shouting and gun shots came from the left of the alley entrance, so I ran to the right, only to run into a body as hard as the brick wallI had just left, sending me back down to the ground. Again. In the back of my mind, I made a snide comment about being covered in bruises. If I survived the night. 

“There you are.” Any hope of it behind John was gone as soon I glanced up. No. It was one of the other three men. Not Chanyeol, but one of the unnamed. My heart pounded in my chest. I scrambled to my feet but he caught me almost instantly, wrapping his arms around me from the back like a human cage. I kicked at the air, struggling against his grip, but I was pathetically outmatched.

The man brought me to a small alleyway intersection near the street where John laid face down in a puddle along with another man I hadn’t seen before.

My struggling stopped immediately. “John?” He didn’t move at my whisper of his name.

“That’s the girl that he’s been talking to at the café,” the third man said. “Every Saturday for the past few weeks. Like clockwork.”

“But would he have told her anything?” my captor asked as if I weren’t currently pressed into his chest.

The one called Chanyeol shook his head. “There’s no way to know right now. This isn’t the place for an interrogation. We’ll have to take her with us. Quick, before the police arrive.”

“No!” I screamed, my fighting kicking into overdrive. “John! John! Help, John!” He still didn’t move. The pool of blood around him continued to grow. I was nothing more than a rag doll to this men as we came to a black, windowless van hidden in the shadows. The third man reached into the passenger’s side glove box, pulling out a white cloth and small brown bottle. “No! No, let me go!”

Without any remorse, the man put the cloth over my nose and mouth and waited patiently for the chloroform to take effect. It took longer than the movies said it would. They all stared at me with blank expressions until I finally fell to the chemical. Then there was nothing.