Chapter 124: The Doll of Red Castle part 2

Leaving the streets of New York City, Geon Kim arrived at Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, and got out of the taxi in front of a huge mansion. Men in black suits and sunglasses, seemingly hiding guns inside their jackets, were standing guard in front of the mansion. Geon, recalling his conversation with Daniel and Sharon, looked slightly tense.

"What is the Red Mafia?"

"It's a term for the Russian mafia, Kay."

"Is the Russian mafia in the United States?"

"Not just Russia, but also the Albanian, Italian, and even the Chinese Triads are present in the U.S."

Sharon said with a worried look.

"It's better to decline this request, Kay. It's too dangerous. You never know what might happen to you if you get involved with them."

Geon asked with a puzzled look.

"But it's a request from a father with a sick daughter. What could possibly happen to me?"

Sharon sighed and said to Daniel.

"Mr. Daniel, please explain the situation."

Daniel nodded and after a moment's hesitation, he began.

"Five years ago, a friend of mine from the Chechen mafia came to the U.S. He had been donating to the Metropolitan Museum of Art for a long time and we were close friends. His occupation was never a big deal to me. I was just happy that he wanted to live in America. But I didn't realize that meant he was bringing his entire organization to the U.S."

Daniel, seeing Geon listening intently, swallowed and continued.

"My friend had a daughter at the age of 50, which was quite late. Given the nature of his job, it was hard for him to have a family. But then he met a woman he truly loved, fell in love at first sight, and married her, having his current daughter. I still remember his laughter while showing his daughter the paintings in the museum. His wife was also very beautiful and gentle."

Geon nodded and said.

"It must have been a precious time for someone who has lived a life stained with mafia blood."

Daniel nodded vigorously and said.

"That's right. We once shared a drink and he said, 'Sometimes, when I see the happy smiles of my wife and child, I want to quit this job.' Seeing a friend full of pride in the Red Mafia say such things made me think he looked truly happy."

"That's interesting. But what caused the child to be traumatized?"

Daniel sighed deeply and said.

"It was four years ago. There was a conflict under the Brooklyn Bridge in Brooklyn Heights between the Red Mafia and the Albanian mafia. The Albanian mafia, which kidnaps tourists coming to America and Europe, injects them with drugs, and forces them into prostitution, had set fire to the car of a Red Mafia mid-boss.

That incident led to a three-month war between the two organizations, shooting at each other whenever they crossed paths."

Geon was shocked by the story, something that seemed like it could only happen in movies, especially because in Korea, where gun ownership is restricted, such events were unimaginable.

"Did the child witness this shootout?"

Daniel looked at Sharon for a moment and then said.

"Fortunately, it wasn't that bad. The wife and child, protected by ten mafia members, were attacked while at a department store. The attacking Albanian mafia numbered about 50, armed with machine guns, and all ten protectors were killed on the spot. And then, the wife was also killed. The child witnessed her mother being shot and dying."

Geon looked back and forth between Sharon and Daniel, shocked.

"What? The child witnessed her mother's death? By gunfire?"

"Yes, that's correct. Everyone except the child was killed. After that, the child stopped speaking and seemed to have lost the ability to express emotions, no longer laughing or crying."

Geon made a sad face upon hearing the tragic story, and Sharon hurriedly said.

"Kay, I know you can't just pass by people in need because of your nature, but the Albanian mafia is still in the U.S. You could become their target if you get involved. Think carefully."

Daniel shrugged and said.

"Technically, only remnants of the Albanian mafia are left. Their boss is dead."

Sharon glared at Daniel, supporting him, and said.

"Still, it's dangerous, Mr. Daniel."

"I understand."

Daniel said with a serious expression.

"That's why I'm really sorry to even bring this up, and to ask for your help. Even if you refuse, Kay, I would never hold it against you. It's natural for me to still want to be your guardian. I know it's a lot to ask, and it might even be a nuisance to you. But please understand the feelings that make me convey my friend's request."

Geon looked deeply into Daniel's earnest eyes and then turned to Sharon. She continuously shook her head, signaling him to decline. Geon seemed to ponder for a moment before Daniel quietly took a sip of water to quench his thirst. After a while, Geon finally spoke up.

"Did you say the child is now ten years old? Did she stop speaking right after her mother died?"

Daniel nodded and replied.

"That's correct. When she saw her father arriving late that day, she didn't cry or show any reaction, just stood there blankly, her cheeks smeared with her mother's blood."

"Has there been any change in her emotions since then?"

"Not at all. She didn't cry at the funerals of the organization members or her mother. I was there at her mother's funeral, and she just stood emotionlessly."

"And you're saying that after four years of showing no emotion, the child cried while watching a charity broadcast in Nepal?"

Daniel, with a grave expression, said.

"It's more like she shed a single tear. It seemed odd to a friend, who kept showing her the broadcast recordings, and she never took her eyes off the screen. Ah, and the music used in the broadcast. Was that sung by you, Kay?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Hmm, I thought it was sung by someone else because it sounded different from Kay's usual voice, but it was indeed your song. Anyway, she just quietly listened to the music without any other reaction, unlike any other music. So, grasping at straws, I invited Kay here."

Sharon, seeing Geon digging into the situation, became anxious and said urgently.

"Kay! Do you know how the Albanian mafia boss died? Gregory Miocic was torn to pieces alive! They kept him alive as long as possible to inflict the maximum amount of pain, tearing him apart little by little over several days, and then fed his body to the mafia's guard dogs! You're considering helping someone associated with that?"

Geon glanced at Daniel with a slightly surprised look, and he sighed and nodded.

"The professor is right. It was like that. But can you imagine the husband's feelings after avenging his beloved wife? Violence and revenge are certainly bad, but it's not like I can't understand his feelings."

Geon fell into deep thought, recalling the words of Shiva he met in Nepal.

'Sing about forgiveness. Forgiveness is the role of a king, while revenge is the act of the lowly. And love. It's impossible to become wiser while loving someone, but try loving the world instead of just a person. A person who loves only themselves makes society harsh and desolate.'

Geon asked Daniel in a low voice.

"So, did Gregory find peace after taking his revenge?"

Daniel paused before shaking his head and replying.

"No. He was consumed by a terrible emptiness and sorrow, unable to live a day without drinking. If it weren't for his child, he might have given up on life."

Geon looked up and met Sharon's worried gaze. He then spoke.

"What's the child's name?"

"The child's name is Kiska Miocic. It means 'pure' in Russian."

"I'll take the case."

"Kay!!! Are you out of your mind?"

As the approval Sharon had so desperately tried to prevent fell from Geon's lips, she let out a sharp cry.

"That's insane! You're helping someone violent and cruel! Think again, Kay!"

Geon looked at Sharon with a faint smile. Sharon, trying to persuade him, filled her gaze with emotion, but seeing Geon just smiling back silently, she sighed in resignation.

"Well, who can argue with your stubbornness?"

Seeing Sharon's gesture of giving up, Geon smiled and said.

"I'll avoid dangerous situations as much as possible, professor. I still have four months until I return to school. That's enough time to lend a helping hand to a child in need. Don't worry."

As Geon recalled the conversation from a few days ago, he sweated upon seeing the imposing mafia guards and the majestic mansion.

'Reality is indeed threatening. The American mafia is incomparable to Korean gangs. Look at those sizes. They must be over 2 meters tall, all of them.'

Approaching the gate made of giant black iron bars, a large man of Russian descent approached and asked.

"What's happening? If you're just passing by, there's no road here, turn back."

Struggling with the unfamiliar Russian, Geon replied in English.

"Uh... could you speak in English, please? I have an appointment with Gregory Miocic."

Hearing Gregory's name, the man lowered his sunglasses and shouted towards another.

"Miroslav! Come over here!"

A skin-headed giant named Miroslav approached upon the call and asked.

"Why? What's happening?"

"He's here on behalf of a friend, mentioning the boss's name. Ask him in English what he wants."

Miroslav, imposing with his skin head and tattoos, looked down at Geon. Geon, looking up at him, sweated nervously.

'Tattoos on his head! That's really intimidating!'

Miroslav then addressed Geon in English.

"You mentioned the boss's name? Do you have an appointment?"

Geon, with an awkward smile, responded.

"Yes, I'm Kay."

Miroslav looked surprised, examining Geon more closely before bursting into a hearty laugh.

"Oh! I didn't recognize Kay! Ha-ha. Just a moment, please. I'll check inside."

Miroslav entered the security booth to make a call on the intercom. The conversation was in Russian, so Geon couldn't understand, but soon Miroslav hung up and approached Geon with a smile, indicating that everything was alright. Miroslav then gestured towards the inside of the mansion.

"It's been confirmed. Please come in. Welcome to the Red Castle!"

"What kind of house requires a golf cart to get from the main gate to the front door?"

Miroslav opened the giant gate and drove one of the four parked golf carts, taking Geon with him.

As they passed a garden wider than a soccer field visible on the horizon, heading towards a distant five-story mansion, Geon looked around like a country bumpkin freshly arrived in the city. He caught Miroslav humming an unknown melody, the back of his head visible to Geon.

Miroslav's head, not merely buzz-cut but completely shaved, bore a tattoo featuring a skull surrounded by a snake coiling around a rose branch, which moved whenever Miroslav nodded.

"Doesn't it hurt to get a tattoo on your head? You'd think the hair would never grow back..."

While Geon idly pondered this, looking at Miroslav's tattooed head, they got off the golf cart that circled around a fountain in front of the main gate. Miroslav greeted the men guarding the gate, armed with machine guns, before saying to Geon,

"Please come this way. The boss is waiting for you."

Geon was surprised as an antique wooden door opened before him.

"That's no ordinary wooden door. Look at its thickness. It must be over 1m thick. Is it bulletproof?"

The heavy door had a central metal bulletproof panel. It opened with a hiss, seemingly gas-pressurized, indicating it was very secure. Miroslav led Geon inside, pointing to the interior with one hand as they entered the lobby on the first floor. Geon's eyes widened at the sight of the interior.

"Wow, it's like the entire New York Metropolitan Museum was moved here. Does the homeowner like art?"

Indeed, the first floor was filled with various paintings and sculptures everywhere. The stairs stretching on either side gave the feel of a noble's castle from a medieval movie. Following Miroslav to the second floor, Geon stood before a black door. True to the nature of a mafia headquarters, large men armed with guns were patrolling, and surveillance cameras constantly followed Geon's movements, making clicking sounds. Miroslav knocked on the black door before opening it and saying,

"This is as far as I'm allowed. Please, go in."

Hesitatingly, Geon entered the room, revealing a study that seemed three times the size of his house in Korea. One wall was filled with books from floor to ceiling, and the floor was carpeted.

The owner of the study seemed to prefer dark-toned furniture, with the antique pieces being black or dark brown.

Stepping into the study, Geon saw a massive desk that could easily seat eight people, with someone sitting at it, facing away and looking out the window.

It was a majestic scene, yet the windows the person was looking at were barred with iron and bulletproof glass, resembling a caged beast.

"Excuse me... Are you Gregory Miocic?"

As the man in the chair turned around, Geon saw the face of a man who reminded him of Marlon Brando from The Godfather, shown to him by his high school friend Jooyong. The man had the seasoned look of middle age, with a thick Cuban cigar in his mouth.

"I thought you were Marlon Brando... But I guess Russians can look like this too. I heard he's in his early 60s, but he looks young enough to pass for his late 40s."

The man was incredibly fit for someone supposedly in his 60s. Wearing a light blue shirt, a dark blue tie, and a formal vest, his clothes were tight over his muscular body. After removing the cigar from his mouth, the man spoke,

"Have you arrived? Sit down."

Gregory's manner of speaking, as if addressing someone beneath him from the start, seemed to reflect a lifetime of leadership.

Feeling somewhat intimidated by Gregory's charisma, Geon sat on a black sofa that was facing Gregory's table. Uniquely, the sofa was positioned to face the table, unlike typical sofas arranged to face each other, suggesting it was used for conversations with Gregory.

As soon as Geon sat down, the expensive-looking leather sofa slowly deflated, enveloping him comfortably. Yet, Gregory remained silent, simply examining Geon and exhaling cigar smoke.

After a long silence, with Geon maintaining eye contact despite feeling tense, Gregory finally spoke.

"You seem to have a strong spirit. No wonder you could work in such dangerous places."

Standing up, Gregory put the cigar back in his mouth and walked to the desk, leaning against it as he exhaled smoke.

"Do you know where you are?"

Geon looked around briefly before answering,

"Yes, Mr. Gregory Miocic."

"Just Gregory. So, you knew you were coming to the Red Castle, the home of the boss of the Red Mafia?"

"Yes, that's correct , Gregory."

"What do you think the mafia is?"

After a moment of thought, Geon spoke up.

"You might not like hearing this, but I understand them as people who do illegal activities, a necessary evil in society."

Gregory chuckled, taking a deep drag of his cigar.

"In Russia, the definition of mafia is a bit different. It's not about the existential condition of a group but rather the actions it takes to realize its interests. If those actions largely align with societal norms, even if they're in the shadows, we don't call it mafia. But if a business, even one that operates openly, uses methods against the law and involves violence in its dealings with others, that's called mafia."

Gregory exhaled a large cloud of smoke, the amount seemingly enough to fill a person's lungs.

He watched the smoke disperse in the air, turning the cigar in his hand with a satisfied smile.

"Cuban cigars really are the best. Would you like one?"

Geon waved his hands in refusal.

"I don't smoke."

"Pity. Anyway, in Russia, if someone in the oil business uses violence in their dealings, they're called oil mafia. If the police do it, they're police mafia. That's our tradition. The term 'Red Mafia' wasn't coined by us but by the world, referring to Russia's national color."

Geon asked with a serious face.

"I don't understand why you're explaining the mafia to me, as I don't have much knowledge on the subject."

Gregory grinned broadly.

"A mafia is an organization that uses illegal methods to monopolize certain powers and resources. What I'm saying is, consider what I might do to get what I want from you."

Geon stiffened at Gregory's words, his expression hardening. After a silent standoff, Geon stood up.

Gregory crossed his arms with an amused expression as Geon, unusually angry, said,

"I didn't come here seeking personal gain. I came out of concern for a father worried about his sick daughter, yet you see me as a player in your game of interests. I'll be leaving now."

As Geon turned towards the door, Gregory spoke, watching his back.

"If you leave that door without my permission, you'll be filled with bullet holes. The system works that way without my needing to say anything. Don't leave. Sit down."

Geon glanced at the closed door, noticing a CCTV camera pointed at him. He turned back to Gregory, biting his lip.

"I never expected to be threatened. I heard you asked for me through Daniel several times. Did I hear wrong?"

Gregory chuckled, taking another drag of his cigar.

"You heard right. My apologies. Will you sit again?"

Feeling the shift in Gregory's tone to a more pleading nature, Geon returned to the sofa. He had no choice but to stay, knowing leaving without permission could mean death.

Gregory looked at Geon, breaking into a laugh.

"Haha, alright. My mistake. I hadn't met you in person before, so I needed time and a reason to judge. Forgive me, it's just the way someone who's lived in the mafia world judges others."

Seeing Geon's expression remain stern, Gregory clasped his hands together, extending them forward in apology.

"I once saw a Yakuza apologize like this. Being from the East, you understand the gesture, right? I'm sincerely sorry."

Geon sighed, his expression softening slightly.

"Phew, I'm Korean, Gregory. And to be honest, I was quite scared earlier."

Gregory laughed heartily.

"Hahaha! Honest to a fault, my friend. I would've pretended not to notice even if you'd acted a bit cooler, haha!"

Geon wiped the sweat from his forehead, replying,

"There's a time and place for posturing, not in front of the boss of the Red Mafia. Doing so could mean ending up floating in the Hudson River tomorrow. I value my life, phew."

Gregory roared with laughter.

"Hahaha, sorry about that. Truth is, I wanted to hear it from you. That you came not with desires but with a pure heart to help. Of course, I'll make sure you're not left feeling shortchanged."

Gregory, cigar in mouth, approached Geon, speaking in a friendlier tone.

"Actually, I don't expect you to cure my daughter. It's just that she showed interest in someone else for the first time, and I thought meeting you might make her a bit happier. No pressure, just meeting my daughter would be thanks enough."

Geon put away the towel he had been using to wipe his sweat, sighing in relief.

"If you promise not to play such tricks again, I'll come to see your daughter more often."

"Haha, agreed! I promise!"

As their conversation warmed from its initially chilly start, Gregory picked up the phone.

"It's me, bring in the car. Use the finest tea imported from Russia. And have the maid check if Kiska is awake. If she is, bring her to the study."