Sniping - Chapter 3

The idea of being a tattoo artist had come from Chris. After discovering El’s natural talent for anything involving her hands, Chris encouraged her to learn tattooing. Over the course of a year, Chris’s friend regularly came to their house to teach her. El’s first practice subject was that very friend, and her second was Chris. That was the extent of it—El hadn’t touched a tattoo machine since.

Though acquaintances of Chris and his friend often asked El for tattoos after seeing their designs, she always refused. Two instances of working with people and physical contact had been enough for her.

“Ellie, if anyone asks what you do for a living, just say you’re a tattoo artist,” Chris had told her.

Back then, El had wondered to herself if she’d ever have a reason to say such a thing.

She certainly hadn’t expected anyone to ask.

“El, if I get one too, can I get a discount if we do it together?”

The thick, bittersweet taste of the hot chocolate she hadn’t managed to drink properly lingered in her mouth.

El coughed repeatedly, trying to suppress it, her mouth covered with the handkerchief someone had handed her. She vaguely heard Kim Jae-Chan asking if she was okay, but the voice didn’t register.

Instead, Hyun-se’s instruction to “get her some water” came through clearly.

Hyun-Se, now seated in front of her, was wearing a sharp black suit—likely returning from somewhere.

If it hadn’t been for his question, El might have choked just from seeing him in that suit. Beneath the brim of her cap, her eyes darted over his figure.

“Kitty, pick one—either cough your lungs out or eat my face.”

Hrk!

The cough she had been trying to stifle burst out again. Tears pricked her eyes, making them glisten.

When Hyun-Se spoke in English, his voice dropped slightly, making it sound… smoother? Sexier? It carried a different allure compared to when he spoke Korean.

Wait, no—I’m not trying to eat your face.

“Ah, she’s really choking hard,” Jae-Chan muttered as he returned with a glass of lukewarm water, throwing a mildly chastising glance at Hyun-se.

El, now beet red, lowered her head, took a few sips of the water, and finally managed to calm herself.

“I… I don’t eat people,” she stammered, worried Hyun-se might misunderstand.

The way El switched between English and Korean depending on how she was addressed amused him. The earnest, slightly indignant look on her face was absurdly…

Absurdly tempting.

Hyun-Se slowly ran his tongue over the inside of his cheek.

There was an unintentional allure in the way her watery eyes peeked up at him beneath the cap, her flushed cheeks and reddened nose, and the soft pout of her slightly swollen upper lip. It wasn’t something crafted, just naturally enticing.

His sharp gaze narrowed, taking on a languid, sultry edge.

Hyun-Se’s features struck a fine balance between clean-cut handsomeness and decadent charm. Even if you had eyes on the back of your head, you’d have to admit he was devastatingly attractive.

And Hyun-Se was fully aware of it. He was used to the attention his looks attracted, especially from women.

But to find himself drawn to a mysterious young woman from a quiet, unassuming neighborhood—barely 24 years old—was something he found both ridiculous and bewildering.

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to be eaten either,” he quipped.

El found his choice of words strange. It threw her off and left her flustered.

“We were talking about tattoos, weren’t we? How much do they cost? Does the price depend on the design?”

Hyun-Se transitioned seamlessly back to Korean, acting as though nothing unusual had happened.

It felt like El’s wandering eyes made an audible sound as they darted around nervously. Her hands gripped the handkerchief tightly.

“Um, well… it depends. Maybe around… $10?”

If only she’d asked Chris for more specifics—about pricing or other expected questions. El began to sweat under the stares of the two men across from her.

Was that too expensive? Too cheap?

What if they found it suspicious and reported her to the police? The sudden thought made her stomach sink.

She shouldn’t have let herself get curious about this café. She shouldn’t have let herself be distracted by Hyun-Se’s face, no matter how often it popped into her mind. Ignoring things was something she was usually so good at.

Just as El abruptly moved to stand, Jae-chan spoke up.

“Hey, El. So, how much do you make with that?”

Even though he knew El wasn’t actually a tattoo artist, Kim Jae-Chan asked out of pure curiosity. He thought she was an unusual beauty—someone with no social skills and no interest in mingling with others. The more he talked to her, the more she surprised him.

Wait, does she have no concept of money either? He found himself wondering if she ever used her phone for online shopping, searches, videos, or social media. Then again, considering her personality, he figured she probably didn’t use social media and nodded to himself.

“…I make just enough to live on,” El muttered softly, relieved that he didn’t seem intent on reporting her. His tone sounded genuinely curious, or perhaps concerned.

“Oh, and, you know, tattoos… once you get them, you can’t erase them,” she continued.

“…….”

“…….”

After a brief pause, El started speaking again, prompting both men to lean in, intrigued by what she might say.

“Later on, you might regret it, or you might not like it anymore. People say it hurts, too. So… what I’m trying to say is, maybe it’s better not to get a tattoo in the first place.”

Worried that they might actually go ahead with the idea of getting tattoos, El rambled more than usual.

Hearing this, Jae-Chan couldn’t help but laugh. He quickly grabbed El’s now-cold hot chocolate, using the excuse of reheating it to hide his amusement as he headed back inside the café. Meanwhile, Hyun-Se covered his lower face with one large hand.

She’s a natural.

That effortless allure, that endearing charm—it was innate.

No tattoo artist who actually made a living doing tattoos would ever say such a thing, would they?

Realizing that pressing her further might just make her bolt and disappear, Hyun-se decided to drop the subject.

“Yeah, I’m not a fan of pain,” he said, smoothly.

“…Oh, really?” El’s head shot up, her light brown eyes sparkling with joy.

The sight of her delighted expression made Hyun-se fight the urge to reach out and touch her. It was almost painful, like an itch he couldn’t scratch. But he told himself to let it end as amusement and nothing more.

Lowering his hand, Hyun-se’s expression returned to its usual cool demeanor.

Chris had always kept secrets from his other housemates but never from El. Perhaps it was because she wasn’t an ordinary kid. She had no guardian, rarely left the house, and barely spoke. Chris thought of her as practically a blank slate. That’s why he saw no need to hide his firearms from her.

As a result, El grew accustomed to the sight of guns. She often fell asleep and woke up on the couch, watching Chris assemble them.

One day, while Chris was absentmindedly assembling a gun as usual, El, curious, decided to imitate him, putting the pieces together like a toy. Chris, seeing this, sprang to his feet in excitement.

“Ellie, can you do it faster?”

Expressionless, El disassembled and reassembled the gun. Chris nearly jumped through the roof, shouting praises to God.

“My God, Ellie! Do you know what this means? You’re faster than me! That’s amazing!”

It was the first compliment El had ever received in her life.

Because Chris was pleased, because Chris had praised her, El began to handle guns.

“It’s not a bad job,” Chris would say. “You’re getting rid of bad people. Plus, it pays well.”

The problem was, Chris himself had turned to guns because of a troubled childhood. He felt no qualms about teaching El how to use them. Chris took immense pride in the fact that he didn’t do drugs and made an honest living. Teaching El a way to support herself filled him with satisfaction.

Whenever El went out for work, she would think of Chris, the one who had taught her how to snipe. Being a genius himself, Chris’s lessons had been grueling. El, however, kept up with them, as long as they didn’t involve physical strain.

El took out a pair of high-powered German binoculars from her large black backpack, which was filled with guns and accessories. After confirming her location, she put the binoculars back into the bag. She had left home before dawn and had been waiting for hours on the freezing rooftop.

For days, she had checked the area but had seen no sign of Hyun-Se. She told herself it was a relief, but his face kept creeping into her thoughts whenever she returned to this spot.

El checked the time.

She adjusted her position and peered through the 60x scope of her pre-set sniper rifle. She made minute calibrations, considering the ammunition, wind speed, and temperature to calculate the trajectory. It was a painstakingly complex process, but El handled it with ease.

As she focused on the red dot in the center of the scope, she heard footsteps behind her.

Thud. Thud.

No sound of the rooftop door opening. No earlier footsteps. The sudden noise behind her meant someone was intentionally announcing their presence.

Even so, El couldn’t afford to turn away from the scope. She only had a few minutes left.

“Elise,” a voice called.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Her shoulders and spine stiffened. The finger resting on the trigger turned pale from the pressure.

Through the scope, she saw the church doors open and people begin to spill out.