Miho the Killer
Chapter 35: Mr. Kwon

Chapter 35: Mr. Kwon

For the occasion, I picked a simple black dress, hugging my body just about enough to show that I’m a female but not giving away anything more than that.

I also wore heels of a modest height. Enough to show that I made an effort, but enough to signal that I had no plans to take them off tonight.

Also a little gold necklace and bracelet. Nothing flashy. Just enough to show that I wasn’t exactly sleeping on the streets.

I went for the lightest possible make-up too. I was always praised for my good skin and that was probably my best asset when it came to looks. I wasn’t too fond of my curly hair but ever since I tried straightening them once in my uni days I decided maybe I should just live with what I was born with.

As I walked into the same restaurant that I went to with Minji, I got what was probably the best table in the whole place with the reservation under the name of Mr. Kwon. I felt nauseous just walking into the place, and the smell of cooking - the meat grilling smell especially, made me want to just turn around and run away.

But I was here with a purpose.

I sat at the table and took the liberty of ordering a sparking water, which I wouldn’t normally do but I thought I might as well milk every single penny I could out of this guy because I wasn’t going to milk anything else.

The man made me wait twenty minutes. Probably to assert his dominance right from the start. He was no gentleman, although he would probably turn up dressed like one.

He finally came around 8:20 PM, a little late for dinner but it was fine with me.

"I’m very sorry. I got held up in traffic."

As I stood up to greet him, he placed his car key on the table.

A Lambo, huh.

"Oh my bad, let me introduce myself first. My name is Kwon Jiho."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Kwon. My name is Han Sohee."

"The pleasure is mine. Please take a seat."

So we sat, and he asked, making eye contact.

"Red wine, white wine, or sparkling?"

"Red please."

"May I suggest you a dish? I’m a regular here and they got a very nice Spaghetti ai Gamberi - you know, with prawns."

So you think I wouldn’t know what Gamberi is.

Fine.

"Thank you. But actually, I’m allergic to prawns."

"Oh, I’m sorry about that. How about meat?"

"I’m fine with any meat."

"How about Bistecca alla Fiorentina? It’s beef steak. A Tuscan dish. They do it really nice here."

Fair enough. I didn’t know what the hell that was.

"I will go with your suggestion then, thank you."

"And let me guess - hm. If you cannot have Gamberi, maybe you are not fond of seafood in general. Right? How about Prosciutto e Melone? It’s Parma ham with melon"

I can understand ’melon’. Thank you very much.

"Sounds great."

"Right. Fantastic."

And with a little nod of his head, a waiter who’s been waiting for us attentively some distance away came over.

As he was ordering holding the menu with his hands, I noticed that he wore a large golden ring on the ring finger of his left hand.

So he’s not even hiding it.

When the food arrived, he closed his eyes, made a short prayer, and theatrically said "Buon Appetito!"

So it was him.

"Buon Appetito," I repeated.

And I prayed a little too inside.

I prayed for his painful death.

I came here with the suspicion that this guy might be the one.

The one who contracted Miho to kill Minji could have been any man she had on her palm. Any of them, if they found out what Minji had been doing behind his back, might have wished for her death. It was clear from the Bible verse that Miho read out that the murder was retribution for her promiscuity - "which likewise indulged in sexual immorality and pursued unnatural desire, serve as an example by undergoing a punishment of eternal fire." Jude 1:7, the Old Testament.

And after seeing the facility that Juho was in - although I couldn’t see the scale of it from outside, taking any small job that paid for peanuts wasn’t something Miho would do. She was going for big money like the jobs that Shin said she shouldn’t have taken.

My killer was high-class. She dressed like one and she killed like one.

Whoever contracted her must have paid her handsomely. I’m sure there were more men she was seeing that she didn’t tell me about, but a personal trainer guy at a gym - the beast in bed - or a cute bartender didn’t sound like someone who could afford Miho.

But this guy?

He probably could.

And such a man of money and power didn’t like to be screwed over. No man or woman likes it, but the higher the pride, the stronger the grudge.

Now that I saw he was a man of faith, all the dots connected. He must have given Miho the Bible verse to read out. Hand-picked.

I mm-hm and oh and ah my way through the evening. He liked to talk. And he liked that I listened. He liked that I didn’t laugh much. I could tell. I saw the eyes of a predator in him too. But low-class. A petty, insecure, scared predator that only preyed on the weak.

You picked the wrong prey, Mr. Kwon.

Your last one was a disaster.

And this one will be your end.

The evening closed uneventfully, but he was suitably satisfied. I asked him for his business card instead of exchanging phone numbers. He was pleased with that. A chance to show off his name printed in exquisite font on a piece of paper that smelled of money.

I declined his offer for a ride after we got out of the restaurant.

I’ve never ridden one, but I heard Lambo’s weren’t exactly the most comfortable ride.

After I confirmed that he was completely out of sight with his vroom vroom, I walked into the back alley and vomited everything I ate. I felt absolutely sick. Sick of returning to this God damn place, and sick of seeing this man.

Then I picked up my phone and called the old man.

"What is it?", his voice asked.

"Shin, I have a job for you."