Black-Haired Internal Revenue Service SWAT Agent - Chapter 329



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Side Story 35: The Struggle of a Former Federal Agent

My Mustang, riddled with bullets from all the villains who threaten the United States of America, finally got a proper repair.

I felt a sense of accomplishment at finally completing the homework I had been putting off, but when I saw the repair bill, my eyes got dizzy.

They say it’s sheet metal work, but most of the parts, such as the driver’s door, left fender, and bonnet, were replaced as a whole, so the shell is shiny like a new car.

The person who gave me the Mustang is looking at me suspiciously, saying that he even replaced the driver’s seat with a new one, and that six bullets came out of it during the process.

One, that wasn’t the problem.

Anyway, somewhere along the line there was a miscommunication with the repair shop guys, and the Mustang is now yellow instead of its original black color.

To match the colors of the replaced parts, even the parts that were not replaced were painted in the same color.

Even that is yellow, yellow.

When I saw this vibrant color and asked, “Is that the Fucking Bumblebee?”, the owner of Chicago’s only Mustang-specialized repair shop responded with a typical “Americana” response.

The owner, or rather the boss, said, “Then I have to pay extra to paint it back to its original color, black.”

They made a mistake and now they want to restore it to its original condition by charging additional costs.

Living in America, I’ve heard this bullshit more than once.

In the past, I would have scared them by swinging my accounting calculator around in the IRS office, but I just got tired of everything and just rode along.

But even a few blocks from the repair shop, I’m still so angry that I’m thinking of coming back here when the sun goes down, throwing a few flashbangs, and running away.

Claire strongly urges me not to cause any accidents, so I’ll hold back for now…

Okay, I’ll try to endure it for now.

These past few days, my future wife has been preparing a report on the full circumstances of the incident after Mendez and his family were rescued.

So, Claire asked me to please just sit there and be quiet for that period of time.

No, please just stay home and breathe.

The reason is that while I was traveling with Claire, I was in places I shouldn’t have been as a civilian and did things I shouldn’t have done, so I wanted to quietly resolve those issues.

Things you shouldn’t do include things like throwing biker gang cars into the East River in Manhattan or shooting down a high-performance French helicopter like the SA-342.

Anyway, those auto repair shop guys are going to have Amy or McGrady audit them for a few months.

Let’s wait and see.

You want me to turn my Mustang, which used to look like ‘KITT’ (the artificial intelligence super car from the 1980s Midnight Rider), into ‘Bumblebee’ (a yellow Camaro)?

First, I headed home, trying my best to calm down.

I must go and feed Hector quickly.

From the time I picked up tacos and coffee at Mexican Block to the time I parked my car at my house in Old Koreatown, I must have heard people ask if my Mustang was “Bumblebee” five times.

That would make sense, since the yellow body top has two black lines on it, so someone who can’t tell the difference between a Ford Mustang and a Chevrolet Camaro might ask that question.

I just hope I don’t have to tail anyone in this car, yikes.

“Oh, it’s Bumblebee!”

As I was wiping the bird droppings off the window, the number one grandson of the tailor shop owner, Youngjin, passed by and said something.

When I turned my head, I saw Yeong-suk looking at me with a displeased look.

So I raised both my eyebrows as if to say, “What should I do?” and the lady said something to me as well.

“Hey! How old are you, driving around in such a flashy car? You should grow up and get married. Are you going to grow old and take care of that parrot or goose or whatever it is that you call it until you’re in your forties or fifties? You’re saying that now that you’ve quit the IRS and are unemployed, you’re going to be walking around like this?”

“What are you talking about? This is the same car I used to drive, just with a new paint job. Can’t you tell the difference between a Mustang and a Camaro? And I’m getting married soon, so stop talking nonsense. Stop talking nonsense. You’re talking in front of Youngjin. Tsk!”

At those words, the lady selling chicken stopped walking and stared at me.

what?

What is this strange atmosphere?

Sister Young-sook came to me while holding Young-jin’s hand, and suddenly asked in a much smaller voice.

“Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! You’re getting married? To that Miami girl?”

Claire has been called a Miami girl, a Miami wife, in our neighborhood.

Even though Claire herself said that she was not from Miami but from Florida, everyone ignored her and continued to call her a Miami girl.

Anyway~.

I nodded, suddenly taken aback.

Then, this lady hit my back and spoke loudly.

“That’s great, that’s really great! Hey, Taeshik is finally becoming a man. Youngjin, tell Uncle congratulations.”

At his older sister’s urging, the little boy, who didn’t even know English, asked to shake my hand and spoke loudly.

“Congratulations, Taesik!”

Even while I was absentmindedly shaking hands with the kid, Yeong-sook continued to tap my shoulder and arm and chatter excitedly.

Then, before I could say anything in response to that, he ran off to the tailor shop in the building next door.

I looked at the sight with a bewildered expression, then quickly took out the tacos and my belongings from the car.

As I am gathering my jacket, coffee tumbler, and Glock 27 pistol while smelling the new leather seats, I suddenly hear footsteps of someone running towards me.

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At that sound, I instinctively grabbed my gun, but soon after, I heard a familiar voice and quickly hid the gun in my jacket.

“Tae-sik, are you getting married?”

As I got out of the car, the tailor came up to me and asked me a question while shaking my hand.

“yes?”

“Youngjin, your mom said you were going to get married to that federal agent girl. Hey, hey! I’ll make you a suit to wear for your wedding as a gift.”

“Yes! Yes? Yes?”

While I was stuttering to the old man’s words, this time the flower shop lady from across the street appeared, clapping her hands like a seal.

“Well done, well done, our good Taesik. He’s finally getting married. The last bachelor in our old Koreatown is getting married.”

The lady spoke loudly as she brought me some sweet rice cakes that she would probably give me soon.

By the time the lady was patting me on the back, telling me I was tall, the lady at Ilheung Restaurant and the Mexican part-timer, Gonzalez, were walking toward me, waving their hands, as if the news had reached them.

I don’t know what the situation is right now.

While I was flustered by the sudden hospitality from the neighborhood adults, Enzo was looking down at me from the window of our house on the second floor while drinking Pepsi.

“Tae-sik is getting married! Come out and see for yourself.”

At those words, Enzo’s voice is heard from the second floor saying, “Hollyhock!”

Next, the number one person in this neighborhood, the Korean Association President Park Jeong-hwan, shouted loudly enough to resonate through the streets.

In less than ten minutes, a dozen or so Old Koreatown elders surrounded me and the atmosphere became like a feast that wasn’t a feast.

I couldn’t say anything and just nodded to the elders with my face red.

People were touching, tapping, and pinching my hands, shoulders, and arms. It was chaos.

The elderly Korean community president took out one of the tacos I had bought and ate it, then gave one to each of the other elderly people.

Oh, I’m going crazy!

A moment later, an elderly man at the Korea Seoul Mart places a box of Chamisul, which he had his Mexican part-timer bring, on the hood of my Mustang.

Then he tapped my shoulder and said,

“Finally, Taeshik, you’ve become a human being. I thought you’d grow old and die on the sofa at your house as an alcoholic after drinking soju every day, but now you’ve even started a life with a nice white girl. Sergeant Kim (Taeshik Kim’s father) and your mother can finally sleep soundly.”

At those words, the adults in the neighborhood burst into laughter at the same time, and they all congratulated me and said encouraging words.

You guys kept spewing out whatever you wanted to say, whether I listened or not, and I felt like my soul was going to burst out of me.

In the midst of all this chaos, Youngjin starts blowing the recorder in front of me, saying he came home sometime ago and congratulated me on my wedding.

* * *

Enzo said he was getting off work around lunchtime tomorrow, so I took my parrot, Hector, to Niles’ dad’s house early that evening.

As I park my Mustang on the side of the road in front of my dad’s restaurant, I feel like my brother Joo-hwan from Baskin-Robbins 31 across the street is looking at me.

When I got out of the car, I was trying to get into the restaurant quickly before that guy did something about Bumblebee, but damn it, he came out of the restaurant and crossed the street.

“It’s been a while, brother. How have you been?”

Brother Joo-hwan, who is wearing a Baskin-Robbins 31 apron and a hat, ignores my greeting.

Then he starts taking pictures of my Mustang with his phone.

After a while, my brother makes a “Kuuuuuuuu” sound for about 10 seconds and then says one word.

“As expected, Americans make great cars. That’s why Bumblebee must have transformed into this Camaro. No matter how much people say that Chevrolet has lost its appeal because of the cars imported from the Japanese and Germans, cars are still Chevrolet, Chevrolet.”

My brother is so excited and talking that I can’t tell him that this is a Ford car and not a Chevrolet.

While I was hesitating without saying anything, Hector, who was on my shoulder, shook his head back and forth and looked at the Baskin-Robbins guy.

Right now, this guy is definitely recording that guy’s voice in his head.

Besides, I was going to be hearing that raspy voice from Hector’s mouth for another few weeks.

When I entered the restaurant with Hector, there were two tables occupied.

Since they were Koreans I had seen a few times, I gave them a quick greeting and headed to the kitchen, where my father was looking at me with a smile on his face.

“Have you heard the story in Old Koreatown?”

When I asked with an embarrassed expression, my mother smiled and answered.

“I thought you and Claire were going to get married anyway, but now I’m surprised~.”

My dad was trimming bean sprouts at the kitchen table and he looked at me until I put the Taco Bell bag down on the table.

He didn’t say anything and just kept staring at me, so I took out a crispy taco and said to him.

“Stop staring and have some food.”

Even after my father handed me the taco, he still stared at me.

Then, after a while, he spoke in a small voice.

“You, be nice to Claire. As an American woman, she’s open-minded and would marry a slacker like you. If it were Korea, would the smart and hard-working Korean women even bother to take care of a slacker like you?”

He answered that with a snicker.

“Yes, I know. I know very well.”

My mother joined us at this table and started eating tacos with my father.

But, as I was heading to the fridge to get some cola for the two of them, I burst out laughing when I heard my father say something behind me.

“By the way, I wonder if you and Claire will end up taking out guns when you fight as a couple later.”

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