"Ding-ding, ding-ding, ding-ding."
The shrill chime of the doorbell shattered the stillness of the night, its urgent tone ringing out like an alarm. Dong-Joo glanced at the clock on the wall—9:30 PM, well past curfew.
"He said it'd be quick, but look at him, coming home this late," he grumbled inwardly, dragging himself lazily toward the door.
When he opened it, there stood Sang-Jin, breathless and flushed, both arms laden with plastic bags. One was stuffed with bottles of liquor, the other brimming with snacks. A sheepish grin spread across his face, tinged pink from the evening chill.
"Sorry I'm late! Police and soldiers are everywhere, thanks to the curfew," he blurted out, slipping quickly inside.
Dong-Joo leaned back against the door, arms crossed over his chest. "You're reckless. You should've stayed home."
"What choice did I have?" Sang-Jin replied cheerfully.
"It's like an adventure. You wouldn't believe it. At the intersection near here, I almost got caught. A patrol car showed up out of nowhere; it felt like I was playing hide and seek! If I hadn't ducked into an alley in time, I'd be toast!"
Dong-Joo shook his head, though the corner of his mouth twitched into a faint smile. "And yet you insisted on coming."
"Of course!" Sang-Jin held up the bags triumphantly. "If it weren't for the Seogang boys, I wouldn't have gotten this stuff. At this hour, who else could help?"
Dong-Joo took the bags and peeked inside: a bottle of military-grade Scotch Blue, a few cans of beer, and fried chicken. Almost instantly the air was filled with the mingling smells of alcohol and grease.
The Seogang gang, now dominating Gwangju and the southern Jeolla region, had once been a small, scrappy group rivaling the Jakdu gang. Over the past few years, though, they'd risen to power, backed by financial alliances with Seoul's notorious Seven Star syndicate. Their aggressive tactics had secured control over everything from black-market supplies to military procurement and underground entertainment. Ever the risk-taker, Sang-Jin had developed a relationship with Oh Gi-Cheol, one of Seogang's leaders, through his frequent attendance at the illegal casino at Chosun Hotel.
Dong-Joo finally said, his eyes glimmering slightly with gratitude, "You truly know how to salvage a night."
Sang-Jin beamed. "I figured you needed this. Rough day?"
"As usual." Dong-Joo exhaled deeply, his gaze drifting toward the bottle in his hand. "But I had a feeling tonight called for a drink."
"Let's start with a bomb shot, shall we?" Sang-Jin suggested, already pulling out glasses. He poured a base of Scotch Blue, topped it with beer, and spun the glass deftly, creating a miniature whirlpool that caught the light just right.
"To you, my friend," he said, handing over the first glass.
Dong-Joo took it without hesitation, raising it in a silent toast before downing it in one go. The liquid burned as it slid down his throat, leaving a fiery warmth that pooled in his stomach—a sensation he hadn't realized he'd missed.
"This… this is exactly what I needed," he thought, a flicker of relief breaking through the storm of emotions that had consumed him lately.
The past two weeks had been nothing short of hell. Eunsoo's decision to leave him coincided with his mother's health taking a sharp turn for the worse. Sleepless nights spent wrestling with loss had left him hollow, aching for an escape. Even at the funeral, the cheap beer he'd managed to grab hadn't been enough to dull the chaos in his mind.
"This military-grade stuff is the real deal," Sang-Jin said enthusiastically, passing him another drink.
"No hangovers, guaranteed."
Dong-Joo's lips curled into a faint smirk. "In that case, let's make the most of tonight."
And for the first time in what felt like forever, he felt a spark of life reigniting within him, even if only for one fleeting night.
"By the way, what's going on between you and Eun-Soo?"
Sang-Jin's eyes drilled into Dong-Joo, sharp and brimming with curiosity. He sat across the table, his expression a mix of concern and insistence, waiting for an answer.
"It's… complicated," Dong-Joo murmured, his voice barely audible, as though each word weighed a ton.
"No wonder you've been looking so down lately. What's the real story here?"
Dong-Joo took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging under the invisible weight. "Eun-Soo's found someone else."
"What? That's impossible!" Sang-Jin straightened in his seat, disbelief etched into every feature. "Eun-Soo's crazy about you. I've seen it with my own eyes for years."
Dong-Joo offered only a bitter smile, devoid of the spark that once lit his face. No further explanation came.
"Hey, don't just sit there silently! That doesn't make any sense!" Sang-Jin pressed on, his voice rising. "She's only ever had you in her heart!"
"No," Dong-Joo said finally, his voice soft but certain. "It's been a long time coming."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I told her…" Dong-Joo paused, staring at the glass of whiskey in his hand as though it might hold answers. "I told her that if she found someone good, she could go. Date them. Be happy."
"You've lost your mind, haven't you?" Sang-Jin's voice nearly cracked with disbelief. "Who does something like that? Who in their right mind lets the person they love just… go?"
Sang-Jin's face flushed—whether from anger or the whiskey warming his veins, it was hard to tell. Without another word, he grabbed the bottle and poured the amber liquid into Dong-Joo's empty glass, filling it to the brim before adding beer on top.
"Drink," he ordered, shoving the glass toward Dong-Joo.
Without hesitation, Dong-Joo took it and downed the concoction in a single gulp, his eyes closing briefly as the fiery warmth seared down his throat.
"Unbelievable," Sang-Jin muttered, shaking his head. "I gave up on love a long time ago, but you? You've always been head over heels for Eun-Soo."
"No," Dong-Joo replied, his voice heavy with regret. "I was too busy, too demanding. I made things difficult for her. I just thought… maybe this is what's best for her."
"Don't say that," Sang-Jin interrupted, his tone softening for the first time. "By the way, who's the guy?"
"A doctor," Dong-Joo said flatly. "They met at a book club. From the way Eun-Soo talks about him… it sounds like he really cares for her."
Sang-Jin stared at his friend, his expression unreadable. Then, without a word, he poured another round of whiskey and beer, pushing it toward Dong-Joo, who took it and drank without a word of protest.
"Be honest," Sang-Jin said, his voice quieter now. "Do you regret it?"
Dong-Joo exhaled slowly, the alcohol's heat spread from his stomach to his fingertips.
"Yes," he whispered. "I regret everything. I should've treated her better. There's so much I wish I could change."
Sang-Jin nodded solemnly, his usual bravado replaced by a rare, somber understanding. "Dong-Joo, you have to be strong. At times like this, it's all we can do."
Dong-Joo nodded slightly, but his eyes were still on the empty glass he was holding.
"Well then," Sang-Jin said suddenly, his tone shifting to one of forced cheer.
"Tonight, we drink until we forget. Don't brood any longer.
***
D-12 to the Apocalypse
As was always the case after a heavy night of drinking, Dong-Joo woke up at five a.m., his body rebelling against him. His stomach churned, and his mouth was dry as a desert. There was no point in trying to sleep again; he knew it wouldn't come. Rather, he leaned his back against the couch and sat up.
Sang-Jin lay beside him still unconscious, snoring loudly, blissfully oblivious to the end of the world outside.
The faint light of dawn seeped through the window, painting the room in muted grays. Yet even this new day felt heavy and lifeless—much like the weight in Dong-Joo's chest.