Chapter 58: Anxious Dawn

Lee Jun-hyuk returned to his hotel room and lowered his heavy body into the chair at the desk.

The clock had already passed 11 p.m.

Outside the window, the nightscape of New York was still ablaze with countless sleepless lights.

Truly, the city that never sleeps.

Whether it was a night in 1920 or a night a hundred years later, its essence hadn’t changed much.

Or maybe it had.

The era’s electricity consumption was overwhelmingly low. Even the streetlights glimmered dimly.

‘I’m thinking about pointless things.’

A notepad lay open on the desk.

Under the title “Wanamaker Persuasion Strategy,” the blank page was as stifling as his anxious heart.

He picked up the pen.

Testing whether the ink came out smoothly, he drew several lines on the edge of the paper. A fountain pen could be a finicky thing sometimes.

“Conservative old white man…”

Harrison’s words echoed in his mind.

A deeply rooted prejudice against foreigners—especially against Asians.

He set the pen down.

He got up and walked toward the window.

Pressing his forehead against the cold glass, the feverish turmoil in his head seemed to cool off a bit.

That’s when he saw the Whiskey bottle.

The half-finished bottle of Whiskey. The amber liquid inside tempted him.

“One more glass?”

After a brief hesitation, he poured himself a drink.

Up to two fingers high in a Crystal Glass. No ice—straight.

He took a sip.

A burning intensity scorched his throat.

The hot sensation raced down his esophagus and soon spread through his whole body.

He returned to the desk.

“Talk in numbers.”

Yes, businessmen trust numbers, not emotions. He needed to speak in terms of profit.

He picked up the pen again and began to write.

“Margin rate: 40%”

Given that the usual margin for regular canned goods was 20–25%, this was an overwhelmingly high figure.

“Target: high-income class”

People less resistant to price, who would gladly open their wallets for a new experience.

“Repurchase rate…”

Here, his pen stopped.

He didn’t have exact data yet.

It had only been a few days since they’d started selling.

Still, the fact that over 80% of the tasting event participants had placed additional orders could be a powerful weapon.

At that moment, the phone rang.

The shrill bell made his heart leap.

A call at this hour? The clock was nearing half past eleven.

He picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Boss.”

It was Yu Ilhan.

His voice was far more urgent than usual.

The usual calm was nowhere to be found; instead, he sounded tightly tense.

“What’s going on at this hour?”

“Well… I’m at the Canning Factory right now.”

The Factory? Why?

“I heard some strange noises.”

Lee Jun-hyuk’s heart dropped to the floor with a thud.

It felt as if a cold hand had gripped the inside of his ribcage.

“Strange noises?”

“It sounds like something is moving outside… I can’t be sure.”

Bancroft.

Bancroft’s name flashed through Lee Jun-hyuk’s mind like lightning. He remembered the man’s sneering face as he’d talked about “rats.”

“What about the security?”

“Jack went out to check. Tony’s inside.”

“Don’t ever go alone.”

Lee Jun-hyuk’s voice sharpened involuntarily.

His palm broke out in a cold sweat.

“I’ll head over right now.”

“No, there’s no need for you to come…”

“I’ll be there soon.”

He hung up and grabbed his jacket.

Suddenly, a thought flashed through his mind.

Was it really wise to go alone? If this was Bancroft’s doing, going by himself could be dangerous.

A moment stretched, each second feeling like a minute. He needed to make a quick decision.

He picked up the phone again.

“Hello? Is this Mr. Kim Young-soo?”

It was late, but he couldn’t hesitate.

A sleepy voice answered on the other end.

“Ah, this is Lee Jun-hyuk. I’m sorry, but…”

He briefly explained the situation.

The strange noises coming from the Factory.

Yu Ilhan, alone at the Factory late at night.

And the clear threat posed by Bancroft.

“Understood. I’ll bring two men and meet you there.”

Kim Young-soo didn’t hesitate.

He felt the truth of the saying, “Only your own countrymen are reliable in a foreign land.” Even in the middle of the night, he offered help without hesitation.

“I’ll see you in front of the Factory in fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you so much.”

Gratitude welled up from deep inside his chest.

The fact that there was someone to rely on in such a situation.

“I’ll have to repay him later.”

He left the hotel.

The night streets were so quiet, it was as if the daytime bustle had been a lie. Only the occasional staggering drunk still lingered on the street. Even though it was the Prohibition Era, alcohol was everywhere.

A man was vomiting against a streetlamp.

Unable to help it, he covered his nose at the acrid stench wafting over. He quickened his pace.

He tried to flag down a carriage, but none appeared.

Of course, there wouldn’t be a carriage at this late hour.

Most coachmen had already finished their long day and gone home.

“Should I walk?”

It would take at least forty minutes on foot. He couldn’t afford that much delay.

Just then, a Taxi passed by.

The yellow body gleamed under the streetlights.

He raised his hand to hail it.

Luckily, the Taxi stopped in front of him. The driver’s window rolled down.

“Where to?”

The English was tinged with an Irish accent.

“To the Brooklyn Factory District.”

The driver glanced back at him.

A strong smell of liquor wafted from his red nose.

It was obviously drunk driving, but now wasn’t the time to worry about that.

“At this hour? It’s dangerous.”

“It’s urgent. I’ll pay double.”

At the word “double,” the driver’s eyes glinted with greed.

“Get in!”

He got into the Taxi.

The cracked leather seats reeked of stale tobacco and earth. He cracked the window to let in the night air.

The Taxi sped through the darkness.

The engine made a ruckus as if it would die at any moment. The gears clanked and groaned, amplifying his anxiety.

Dimly lit buildings sped by outside the window.

Most of the city was deep in slumber.

“Please, let nothing happen.”

But he was uneasy.

The “strange noises” Yu Ilhan had heard. The “sounds of something moving.”

“Could it really be…?”

Could rats really have gotten in?

Or something even worse?

The Taxi crossed the Brooklyn Bridge.

As they ascended the bridge, the river wind battered the car.

Below, the East River came into view.

The river carried the city’s shadow, flowing as black as pitch.

Only the breaking moonlight shimmered coldly atop it.

Unlike the peaceful scenery, Lee Jun-hyuk’s heart was like the calm before a storm.

“I hope Mr. Yu is safe…”

He arrived near the Factory in fifteen minutes.

The meter pointed to sixty cents.

As promised, he handed over a dollar and twenty cents, double the fare.

“Let me out here.”

Grinning with his yellowed teeth at the generous payment, the driver said, “Be careful. You get all kinds of folk in this neighborhood at night.”

The Taxi drove away.

The red taillights disappeared into the darkness.

He was still a block away from the Factory.

He’d gotten out a little early on purpose.

It was a precaution, just in case.

He needed to prevent anyone from fleeing at the sound of a Taxi approaching.

As he walked, he scanned his surroundings.

It was quiet.

So quiet, it was unsettling.

Only the echo of his own footsteps filled the empty street.

He couldn’t tell if something was moving in the darkness, or if it was just his imagination.

Maybe it was just shadows swaying in the wind, or maybe someone really was hiding out there.

His heart pounded violently.

He focused all his nerves on his ears.

Trying to catch any sound beyond the wind. But all he heard was the persistent night breeze.

The Factory came into view.

A faint light leaked out from the second-floor office window.

Yu Ilhan was surely inside.

But something felt off.

From the outside, everything looked as peaceful as usual.

It was too quiet.

There were people standing near the entrance.

A few silhouettes hidden in darkness. Three? Or maybe four?

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

Were they Bancroft’s men?

“Mr. Lee Jun-hyuk.”

It was Kim Young-soo’s voice.

Relief escaped him in a sigh.

His knees nearly buckled with the release of tension.

He approached.

Kim Young-soo stood with two burly men he’d brought along.

“Thank you so much for coming…”

“It’s what we do for each other. Let’s head in.”

Kim Young-soo welcomed him with a firm gesture.

The two men at his sides bowed their heads silently.

They looked sturdy at a glance.

They entered the Factory.

The metal door, in need of oiling, opened with a grating screech.

Inside, it was quiet.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

The giant machines were deep in slumber.

“Mr. Yu Ilhan!”

Lee Jun-hyuk called out.

His voice echoed hollowly through the empty Factory.

Footsteps sounded from the second floor.

Someone was coming down the stairs in a hurry.

Yu Ilhan appeared.

His face was pale.

“Boss, you’re here.”

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, it’s quiet now. Jack did a round outside, said there’s no one around.”

Just then, the main door opened.

Jack came in.

His security uniform was dusty with dirt.

“Boss. Nothing suspicious. But…”

“But?”

Jack hesitated.

He seemed reluctant to speak.

“There were fresh footprints by the back fence.”

So someone had been here.

His heart, which had briefly stilled, began to pound once more.

One of the men Kim Young-soo had brought spoke.

“I’ll go take a look.”

His voice was low and calm.

“I’ll go with you.”

The other man followed.

Both grabbed flashlights and went outside.

Lee Jun-hyuk looked around the workshop.

Just in case there were any clues they’d missed. Any subtle changes from usual.

The machines remained silent.

But something felt different than usual.

What was it?

He couldn’t explain it, but the flow of the air itself felt different.

“Did you check the Warehouse?”

The thought came to him suddenly.

The Warehouse. The heart of their operation, where finished products were stored. If someone tried anything, it would be there…

“Yes, the locks are all still in place.”

Yu Ilhan showed him the keyring.

There was the clink of metal.

“I kept them with me the whole time.”

But he was still uneasy.

He was certain something had been tampered with. The ominous feeling continued to eat away at his mind.

“Let’s open it.”

“Pardon?”

“The Warehouse. We need to check it ourselves.”

Yu Ilhan nodded.

They all headed for the Warehouse.

The Warehouse was a sturdy brick building at the back of the workshop.

Two padlocks hung on the metal door.

On the surface, nothing seemed amiss.

The padlocks were as they had been, and so was the door.

However—

“Something’s wrong.”

An unexplainable sense of unease continued to nag at his instincts.

Yu Ilhan took out the keys.

He inserted the key into the first padlock.

Clunk.

A dull metallic sound rang out.

He unlocked the second padlock.

Clunk.

He grasped the door handle.

Lee Jun-hyuk held his breath.

What would be waiting beyond this door?

Could it really be…

When the door opened, a chill from inside the Warehouse struck his face.

It was dark.

He groped along the wall, searching for the light switch.

Yu Ilhan found it first and flicked it on.

Click.

The lights came on.

For a moment, it felt like his breath stopped.

The canned goods were stacked neatly in their boxes, just as they had been the night before.

At first glance.

“Looks like everything’s fine…”

Yu Ilhan spoke with a sigh of relief.

But Lee Jun-hyuk still couldn’t shake his unease.

What was it? What was different?

He slowly walked into the Warehouse.

His footsteps echoed through the silence.

He walked between the boxes, examining each one with his eyes.

The packaging. Their position.

Then—

“This one.”

Lee Jun-hyuk pointed at one box.

The third box in the front row.

“This box’s position is slightly off.”

“What?”

Yu Ilhan came over to take a look.

He tilted his head in confusion.

He didn’t seem to notice any difference.

“When I organized them last night, they were in a straight line.”

It was a very subtle difference.

The other boxes were parallel to the wall, but this one was just slightly askew.

Unless someone had touched it, it wouldn’t be misaligned like that.

“Could it be…”

Only then did Yu Ilhan’s face go pale.

His expression finally showed he understood the gravity of the situation.

The two of them took down the box.

They handled it as carefully as if it were a bomb.

Kim Young-soo silently approached and watched.

His expression, too, had hardened.

They set the box on the floor.

Yu Ilhan took a claw hammer and started prying out the nails from the box.

Creak.

The sound of nails being pulled rang out eerily.

The last nail came out.

They opened the lid.

Inside were cans.

A box containing fifty cans.

All lined up neatly.

Again, at first glance, nothing seemed amiss.

He picked one up.

The La Choy (04 A {I label. The packaging was pristine.

But the weight was…

“Is it lighter?”

Lee Jun-hyuk shook the can.

Slosh, slosh.

The sound of the contents sloshing inside was normal.

But the weight in his hand felt subtly different.

“Let’s open it.”

Yu Ilhan brought over a can opener.

It looked like he’d grabbed it in a hurry from the office.

His hand was trembling slightly.

The fear of not knowing what might be inside the can. Could it really be a rat…?

He placed the can opener on the rim.

He applied force.

Ssshhk.

The can lid opened with a sharp sound.

Everyone held their breath and peered inside.

Bean Sprout Canning.

The Sprout Canning, broth and all, looked completely normal.

“Nothing in here.”

Yu Ilhan let out a sigh of relief.

But Lee Jun-hyuk shook his head and reached for a pair of chopsticks.

“The first strand?”

“Yes. We need to check.”

Yu Ilhan brought over a pair of chopsticks from the office.

Plain wooden chopsticks the staff used for lunch.

Lee Jun-hyuk stirred the contents with the chopsticks.

Very slowly. Very carefully.

He lifted and dropped the bean sprouts several times. He stirred the broth as well.

Then—

“What’s this?”

Something snagged on the chopsticks.

It was small and thin.

Carefully, he lifted it out.

“A thread?”

A thin, black strand.

No—looking closer, it wasn’t thread.

“My god…”

Yu Ilhan couldn’t finish his sentence.

Kim Young-soo came closer to look.

“That’s Rat Fur.”

He was right.

It was black, greasy rat fur.