Chapter 20:
The signs were subtle at first. A crow cawed relentlessly from a barren tree near the garden. Lucky, usually playful and carefree, grew restless, barking at shadows that no one else could see. The air felt heavier, as if the world itself was bracing for impact.
Joon stood on the porch one evening, staring out at the horizon. The sun dipped below the hills, casting a fiery orange glow over the village. In his heart, he knew the calm was about to shatter.
"Dad, are you coming in?" Minho's voice brought him back to the present.
Joon turned to see his son standing in the doorway, clutching the wooden bird Joon had carved for him.
"I'll be right there," Joon said, forcing a smile.
That night, as the family slept, Joon was jolted awake by the sound of shattering glass.
"Hana, wake up!" he whispered urgently, shaking her shoulder.
Hana stirred, her eyes widening as the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the house.
"Minho," she whispered, fear creeping into her voice.
"I'll get him," Joon said, grabbing the axe he kept by the bedside. "Stay here and lock the door."
"No," Hana said firmly. "We're stronger together. Let's get him together."
Joon hesitated but saw the determination in her eyes. He nodded, and they moved silently toward Minho's room.
Minho was sitting up in bed, clutching Lucky as the dog growled low in his throat.
"Dad? Mom? What's happening?"
"It's okay, buddy," Joon said, scooping him up. "We're going to stay together, all right?"
The footsteps grew louder, and Joon's heart pounded. Whoever was in the house wasn't trying to be stealthy—they wanted him to know they were there.
As they descended the stairs, Joon saw a figure standing in the living room. It was the shadowy man, his face half-hidden by the dim light.
"Joon," the man said, his voice calm and mocking. "Still clinging to this life, I see."
"Get out," Joon said, his grip tightening on the axe.
The man tilted his head, his expression almost amused. "Do you think you can stop me? You've always been good at pretending, but deep down, you know the truth. This isn't real."
"It's real to me," Joon said, his voice steady. "And I won't let you take it away."
The man's smirk faded, replaced by a look of cold calculation. "Very well. Let's see how far your love can carry you."
With a snap of his fingers, the man vanished—but the front door burst open, and two men in dark clothing stormed in.
Joon reacted instantly, setting Minho down behind Hana.
"Take him upstairs," he said. "Lock yourselves in the bedroom and don't come out until I say it's safe."
"No, Joon—"
"Go!" he shouted, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Hana hesitated but scooped Minho into her arms and ran upstairs.
The intruders advanced, and Joon swung the axe, his movements fueled by sheer determination. He blocked their blows, each swing calculated and powerful.
But they were relentless, and Joon was only one man.
Upstairs, Hana locked the door and set Minho down. Her hands trembled, but she refused to give in to fear.
"We're going to be okay," she said, her voice firm.
Minho nodded, clutching the wooden bird tightly.
Hana grabbed the heavy lamp from the bedside table and positioned herself by the door. If anyone came through, they would find her ready to fight.
Downstairs, Joon was tiring. One of the intruders managed to knock the axe from his hands, and he stumbled back, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.
But just as one of them lunged toward him, Lucky appeared, barking ferociously and sinking his teeth into the man's arm.
"Good boy!" Joon shouted, using the distraction to grab a nearby chair and swing it with all his strength. The intruder fell to the ground, dazed.
The second man hesitated, and Joon took the opportunity to tackle him, pinning him to the floor.
"Who sent you?" Joon demanded.
The man smirked but said nothing.
Before Joon could press further, a deafening sound filled the air—a sharp, piercing whistle that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once.
The intruders froze, their expressions going blank. Then, as if in a trance, they stood and walked out of the house, disappearing into the night.
Joon locked the door and collapsed onto the couch, his body aching.
Hana and Minho came rushing down the stairs, their faces pale but relieved.
"Are you okay?" Hana asked, kneeling beside him.
"I'm fine," Joon said, though his voice was heavy with exhaustion. "Are you both okay?"
Hana nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. Minho crawled into Joon's lap, clutching him tightly.
"You're so brave, Dad," Minho whispered.
Joon held him close, his heart swelling with both pride and sorrow. He knew it was far from over.
As the family sat together, Joon felt the weight of the events pressing on him. His body ached from the physical confrontation, but the emotional toll was even heavier. He had defended them, but he couldn't shake the feeling that the true storm had yet to arrive.
"We need to stay alert," Joon said, breaking the silence. His voice was steadier now, but the uncertainty still lingered in his eyes.
Hana nodded. "I know. But you've already proven that we can fight back."
Joon looked at her, his gaze softening. "I'm not just fighting for today. I'm fighting for all of us, for our future."
Minho, still in his father's lap, looked up at him with wide, trusting eyes. "We're safe because you're here."
Joon's heart swelled with love, but he couldn't ignore the gnawing feeling in his gut. Something bigger was coming, and the calm they'd fought for could unravel in an instant.
The next few days passed in a haze of tension. Joon couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. The village, once a place of peace and familiarity, now felt like a quiet, fragile cocoon—one that could easily be shattered.
He spent long hours outside, scanning the horizon for any sign of the shadowy man or his associates. But the days wore on with no further attacks, and the uneasy calm began to gnaw at him.
The storm finally arrived late one afternoon. Dark clouds rolled in from the west, covering the sky like a heavy blanket. The wind picked up, rustling the trees and bending the grass. The air felt thick, heavy with the promise of something ominous.
Joon stood outside, staring into the horizon as the first drops of rain began to fall. His body tensed, every muscle alert, every instinct screaming that something was about to happen.
"Joon?" Hana's voice came from behind him.
He turned to face her, seeing the same unease in her eyes.
"I can feel it too," she said, stepping closer. "What do we do?"
"We wait," Joon said, his voice resolute. "We stay strong, stay together, and wait. We'll face it head-on."
As the evening wore on, the rain began to pour down in sheets, flooding the fields outside the cottage. The wind howled like a living thing, rattling the windows and shaking the very foundation of the house.
And then, just as the first flashes of lightning split the sky, Joon heard it—footsteps, slow and deliberate, approaching from the woods.
He tensed, his eyes narrowing as he watched the door. He knew who it was before the figure stepped into the light.
He was standing at the edge of the porch, his silhouette barely visible through the rain. His cold, calculating eyes locked onto Joon's, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze.
"You were always going to face this," the man said, his voice carrying over the storm. "I gave you a chance to walk away, but you chose to fight. Now, the consequences of that choice are here."
Joon stepped forward, his jaw clenched. "What do you want from us?"
The man smirked. "It's not what I want, Joon. It's what you've already set in motion. You've become too important. Now, everyone will come for you."
"Not everyone can break us," Joon shot back, stepping closer, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his words.
The man's eyes gleamed with dark amusement. "We'll see, won't we?"
And with that, he turned, fading into the storm, leaving Joon alone on the porch, his heart racing and his mind spinning with the meaning of the encounter.
The storm raged through the night, but the man's departure left an eerie stillness behind. Joon stood in the doorway, watching the storm tear at the earth. He knew the worst was still to come—he could feel it in his bones.
But in the back of his mind, there was a glimmer of hope. If they were prepared, if they stayed together, they could face whatever came next.
"Dad?" Minho's small voice came from behind him, breaking the tension.
Joon turned to see his son standing at the top of the stairs, still clutching the wooden bird.
"We're going to be okay, right?" Minho asked, his voice trembling.
Joon walked over to him, kneeling down so they were eye level. He pulled Minho into his arms, holding him close.
"We're going to be okay," Joon said softly, even though a part of him wasn't sure. "As long as we have each other, we'll face it all."
The storm that had come so suddenly was more than just a physical storm—it was a harbinger of something far darker. The shadowy man's warning, his cryptic words, had planted a seed of doubt in Joon's heart. He knew the battle wasn't just with the men who threatened his family; it was with a force much greater, one that could not be fought with axes or weapons.
It was a battle of the mind