SOFT SPOT, player 380

1.

The rain came down in relentless sheets as Hyejin stepped off the bus a walking distance near the Pink Hotel. The neon sign flickered in the storm, its buzzing pink light casting eerie shadows on the wet pavement. Across the street, a car sat idling, its headlights dim and the figure inside indistinct.

She pulled her hood tighter against the rain, her free hand gripping the bag of steamed buns she'd brought. Her other hand stayed in her pocket, fingers brushing over the switchblade. It had been two days since Gihun's call, and her heart hadn't stopped pounding since.

She crossed the street quickly, sparing a glance at the car. It didn't move, but her nerves stayed sharp as she pushed through the warped wooden door of the hotel lobby.

The inside of the Pink Hotel was as dismal as its exterior—peeling wallpaper, a faint smell of mildew, and dim lights that barely illuminated the faded carpeting. Hyejin paused at the foot of the stairs and pulled the paper from her pocket.

Room 410. Fourth floor.

She started up the stairs, her sneakers squeaking on the damp steps. Halfway up, the sound of a gunshot echoed through the building.

She froze.

Her breath quickened, heart hammering in her chest. Then, she ran, taking the stairs two at a time, clutching the switchblade in her pocket. She was nearly to the fourth floor when the front door slammed open behind her.

Heavy footsteps followed, rushing up the stairs. Without thinking, Hyejin bolted for the fifth floor, ducking into the stairwell to avoid being seen. She crouched low, her breaths shallow, as the figure passed her, heading toward the fourth floor.

Peeking around the corner, she caught sight of a man in plain clothes—a detective, judging by the badge clipped to his belt. He moved with purpose, and she stayed hidden until he disappeared into Room 410.

Hyejin followed cautiously, her footsteps silent on the damp carpet. When she reached Room 410, she peeked inside. Blood pooled beneath the armchair where the recruiter's lifeless body sat. A bullet hole went clean through his chin, and blood painted the wall behind him.

Gihun faced the patterned glass wall that looked into the bathroom, his hands being cuffed as the detective recited his rights. 

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say—"

Out of nowhere, a half-naked man hobbled past Hyejin, hands bound and fire extinguisher in hand. He brought it down on the detective's head, knocking him out. Hyejin muttered a little "what the fuck" before stepping further into the room.

Adrenaline pumping, Gihun bent down to pick up his gun that the detective had taken from him, pointing it at the half-naked and somewhat bound man, who was drenched in sweat and had a bit of blood dried against his head. 

 The tension in the room was thick, the metallic tang of blood and sweat clinging to the air.

"Don't—don't shoot!" the man stammered, his bound hands raised awkwardly in a gesture of surrender. His voice cracked with desperation. "I'm Wooseok! I'm... I was helping Mr. Kim! Please, listen to me!"

Wooseok's face twisted in anguish as he glanced at the recruiter's slumped body. "That bastard—" he spat, his voice laced with venom. "He caught us. Made us play his sick game. Russian roulette, but... with a twist. Rock-paper-scissors to decide who'd have the gun pointed at them."

Gihun's expression faltered, and his hand holding the gun dropped an inch.

"Mr. Kim... I played two rocks by mistake... He had scissors and paper. All he had to do was pick paper," Wooseok continued, his voice breaking. Tears streamed down his face as he furiously shook his bound fists at the body of the dead recruiter. "But he didn't!" He sobbed. "like a fool..."