Chapter 5 - The Unlikely Invitation
The aftermath of the market confrontation sent shockwaves through the criminal underworld of Busan. Within hours, word spread through the underground channels like wildfire: Alex Gene, the ruthless supreme leader of the syndicate, had personally intervened to protect a foreign woman’s vegetable stall at Jagalki Market.
Speculation ran wild. Was she a secret relative? Was the stall a front for a major money-laundering operation? Rival bosses began scrambling to find out everything they could about Ify Nanya and her eight-year-old daughter.
Meanwhile, back at stall number forty-two, life seemed blissfully normal—except for the fact that a sleek black sedan now parked discreetly at the corner of the street every single morning, and three burly men in sharp suits occasionally loitered nearby, looking intensely intimidating while pretending to inspect cabbages.
Ify was nervous, but she couldn't deny the benefits. No local thugs dared approach her. Her business flourished as superstitious locals assumed her stall was blessed by the most powerful gangster in the city.
It was Thursday afternoon when the white envelope arrived.
A young man in a pristine suit walked up to the stall, bowed respectfully to Ify, and placed a thick, heavy card on the wooden counter before walking away without a word.
Ify picked it up with trembling fingers. Inside was a handwritten note in elegant, sharp calligraphy.
Mrs. Ify Nanya,
Your daughter expressed dissatisfaction with my lack of home training last week. I would like to extend a formal invitation for dinner at my residence this evening, so that I may demonstrate that I am capable of proper hospitality.
Driver will pick you up at 6:00 PM.
— Alex Gene
Ify stared at the note in horror and disbelief. Dinner? With Alex Gene? At his house? That was suicide. People didn't go to Alex Gene’s house for dinner unless they were signing away their lives or their assets.
She immediately looked down at Pretty, who was happily munching on a dried plum while reading a comic book.
“Pretty,” Ify whispered frantically, holding up the note. “Look at this. The scary man from the market wants us to have dinner at his house. We cannot go. We will pack our things and move to Seoul tonight. Or Jeju Island!”
Pretty took another bite of her plum, wiped her hands on her skirt, and reached out to take the note. She read it slowly, moving her lips as she spelled out the words.
When she finished, she nodded thoughtfully.
“He used good handwriting,” Pretty observed. “That’s a sign of discipline.”
“Pretty! This is serious! He is a dangerous gangster!” Ify hissed, her eyes wide with panic. “He kills people for a living!”
“Mama,” Pretty said reasonably, looking up with her big, clear eyes. “He apologized when I told him to. He chased away those mean men today. And now he’s inviting us for dinner because I criticized his manners. That is called accountability.”
“Accountability?!” Ify nearly dropped her ladle. “It’s a trap, sweet heart!”
“If it was a trap, he wouldn’t send a handwritten note with a driver,” Pretty stated with the unshakeable logic of an eight-year-old prodigy. “Bad guys send anonymous threats. Gentlemen send invitations. And besides, I want to see if his house is as neat as his suit.”
Before Ify could protest further, a black sedan smoothly pulled up to the curb. The rear door opened, and Kang-dae stepped out, bowing respectfully toward the stall.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Nanya. Young miss,” Kang-dae said politely, his usually fierce face softened into a strained, awkward smile. “The Boss is expecting you.”
Ify looked from Kang-dae to the open car door, and finally down at her daughter, who had already grabbed her crooked schoolbag and was cheerfully sliding off her stool.
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“Come on, Mama,” Pretty said, taking her mother’s trembling hand. “We shouldn’t keep our host waiting. It’s bad home training.”
Defeated by her own daughter's uncompromising moral code, Ify took a deep breath, untied her apron, and let herself be led into the belly of the beast.
