Black Moth

Several miles outside the rings of streetlights and prying eyes were the graves of beaten, burned, and blasted corpses. The unfortunate souls of those that dared to cross a family built on blood and loyalty. Seven Star graced South Korea’s soil for decades, either being passed from father to son or victim to homicidal maniac.

Kneeling on the soft dirt, Kwon Yunsu sniveled into his hands which were tied at the wrists with a zip tie. His suit jacket was torn at the shoulder, tie crooked, eyes bruising and swelling shut. He dared to glimpse up at the figure standing before him. Shadowed and towering, the only feature at first was the smoldering cigarette tip igniting with an inhale. A flick of the wrist signaled the other men; cronies with black hearts, but lesser brains moved forward. Their dress shirts were pulled up to their elbows, wooden bats grasped in calloused palms.

“N-no!” Kwon leaped forward, falling onto the leader’s feet. “P-please, give me another month! I’ll pay you back…” He graveled onto shiny shoes that were carefully removed from his grasp.

Fingers removed the cigarette and tapped its side, ash fell onto Kwon’s back. “Isn’t that what you told me last month?” Park Sungwoong pondered, small steely eyes lowered at the blubbering man who was going on about supporting a family of three children.

“Y-yes, but-” Sungwoong turned away to head back to a cobalt SUV. “Wait!” Kwon crawled after Sungwoong, grasping at his heels. He fell short when one of the members grabbed his shoulder and hauled him back.

Sungwoong flicked away his cigarette and glanced towards his men while they began to bludgeon. He opened the back of the SUV where a tarp lay across the back, streaked with Kwon’s blood. Sungwoong pulled the gas can from the floor and shut the door again. It did not take long with four men equipped with oak bats bashing in one body. The dull thuds turning into the sharp cracks of bone, the squishing of organs and brain matter. Kwon shouted for a few short seconds, dulling to moans.

Sungwoong lit another cigarette, the lighter’s flicker illuminating a handsomely aged face and a slicked back hairline. Smoke blew from his thin lips and he waited another minute while his men got their violent fixes before approaching the man again. Kwon Yunsu was hardly breathing with a fractured skull and protruding bones. Blood flowed from all openings.

“Be happy it’s you and not those brats you croon about,” Sungwoong mumbled from around his cigarette and uncapped the gas can. He began to pour its contents on the broken body. “I could have went after your wife and sperms first, but…call me nice.” He handed the gas can to one of his men and took the cigarette from his lips. “You’ll get to welcome them to whatever afterlife exists when they grow old without you because of your stupidity.” He dropped the cigarette onto the body and it didn’t take long for it catch with the life’s elixir of gasoline.

Sungwoong turned from the ignited body with his four men flanking him. When they reached the SUV, Sungwoong slid into the back seat next to a man who was approaching seventy. Park Jiseung was only an inch or two shorter than his son, mostly shortened by age. Despite the years he walked on the earth, he still stood tall and healthy with thin gray hair atop his head. His eyes were colder than his sons, hardened by years of selfish greed and need to stand on top. Attempted assassinations and long nights of keeping the underground flowing decreased empathy and increased a sallow heart.

“Well done, son,” Jiseung said and offered Sungwoong a glass of freshly poured scotch. “You’re much more creative about these things than I am.”

Sungwoong accepted the glass with the hand that held his cigarette and toasted his father as the SUV pulled away from the flames that now licked high. “Did you get news on the Sahas?”

“They’ll land tomorrow, late morning. We can have a family lunch to offer them a sense of comfort, put Naagpathi’s concerns at ease.”

“Family lunch?” Sungwoong smirked before sipping at the hard liquor. “I suppose that could work, if they don’t see our weaknesses.”

“You mean Songyeong?” Jiseung shook his head, lips pursing in annoyance as he looked out the tinted windows into the darkness outside. “I’m becoming tired with his boyish antics.”

“He’s the baby,” Sungwoong reasoned. His voice was a purr, constantly low and rumbling in his chest from years of heavy smoking. “He’s still living out his wild days.”

“He’s thirty-three years old!” Jiseung growled, fiery eyes meeting his sons. “You were out of your ‘wild days’ when you graduated secondary school. You grew up and did your job, not burn your money on coke lines and prostitutes and poker you have no fucking chance of winning. Songyeong is a disgrace to the Park family.” Jiseung threw back the last of his drink and shook his head as it slid down. “Frankly, I may ask him not to be there tomorrow in order to keep him from embarrassing us.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Sungwoong said. “See if I can talk some sense into him.”

“You’ve done it before,” Jiseung’s voice was still sharp. “I’m done giving him chances he takes for granted.”

Sungwoong held up his index finger while he took a drink. When he swallowed, he said, “one more shot, Dad. That’s all I’m asking.” Jiseung looked ready to object when Sungwoong held up a hand. “Do it for me. Songyeong is my little brother and I love him dearly; you know that. Just let me talk to him one more time.”

Jiseung sighed and rubbed at his forehead, graying eyebrows looking like caterpillars resting on wrinkling skin. “Fine. If you think you can do something, by all means…” Sungwoong bowed his head in thanks before locking his eyes with the road that flashed by them. Jiseung cleared his throat before attempting to lighten the mood by adding, “I hear Saha’s daughter is a real beauty to look at.”