Dung pulled up the yellow LaDalat he'd just rented and parked it right in front of the seminary's main gate. The sun hit the yellow car straight on, bouncing off its shiny hood like it was trying to blind every poor soul on the street. Flashy as hell, just the kind of ride you'd expect for picking up the youngest son of one of Saigon's richest tycoons.
Yawning, Dung climbed out of the car and planted his hands on his hips, taking in the view. A long line of pine trees flanked the driveway, their green needles swaying gently whenever a breeze passed through. The branches whispered and rustled above, each gust bringing with it that cool, crisp scent unique to the highlands of Đà Lạt. "Smells like Đà Lạt," Dung muttered to himself, breathing in until his lungs felt squeaky clean.
Beneath the shade of a wide pine tree sat a young man, looking half-lost in a daydream. Dung barely gave him a glance, his focus locked on the gate of the seminary.
Fifteen minutes crawled by, still no movement, no footsteps, no cars. Just birds and that annoying sunshine bouncing off the damn car. Dung sighed and leaned back against the yellow LaDalat, letting his head rest on the roof. Even with sunglasses on, he had to squint.
"Excuse me, mister…"
A hesitant voice drifted over. Dung looked up slightly. Oh great, it was that pine tree daydreamer. Still slouching, Dung didn't bother changing his lazy pose.
"You mind if I ask something real quick?" the boy said, voice soft and harmless as a kitten. On a normal day, Dung might've humored him.
"You hitchin' a ride? Sorry, I'm waiting for someone," Dung said
"No, no… I just wanted to ask… are you Mr. Dung Tây, by any chance?"
Now that got his attention, Dung straightened up, pulled down his shades just a notch, and gave the kid a once-over: Couldn't be more than eighteen or nineteen, soft face, tidy white shirt buttoned up to the neck, looked more like a Sunday school teacher than some rich boy.
"You're really Dung Tây, right? I'm Đông Anh," the boy said brightly, pointing at himself.
"Đông Anh who?" Dung asked, deadpan.
"Đông Anh… son of Mr. Liễu."
"Mr. Liễu who?"
That wiped the smile right off the kid's face. His eyes flickered with confusion.
"So… you're not Mr. Dung Tây? Sorry, my mistake…"
"I asked who this Mr. Liễu is," Dung added, one brow raised. His voice low and sharp, just to see if the boy had any bite behind that polite face.
"Mr. Liễu... he's the son of Madam Kim, they called her 'the Councilman's wife' back in the day."
"And what about M—"
"Wait, wait—look at this!"
The boy suddenly cut Dung off before he could finish. He pulled out a worn leather wallet and stepped closer, flipping it open. Inside was an old family photo.
"See? That's me, that's my mom, my sister here, and that's my grandma—Madam Kim. Right in the middle? That's my dad, Mr. Liễu. You recognize his face or not?"
Dung couldn't help but grin at the boy's over-the-top earnestness. He looked down at the photo just as the boy looked up at him—accidentally locking eyes. The sun hit the boy's crisp white shirt just right, casting a soft glow around him. Another breeze stirred the pine trees, sending that cool Đà Lạt scent drifting through the air again, straight into Dung's lungs.
"You were messing with me earlier, weren't you?" the boy asked, narrowing his eyes.
"Messin'? Not really. I just had to be sure. Around here, every other guy is named Liễu or Út. And let's be honest, no one would peg you as some rich kid at first glance."
The boy glanced down at his own clothes, then over at Dung's polished appearance and it all made sense.
"So you're saying I look like a country bumpkin?"
"Not a bumpkin," Dung replied, chuckling. "Just... lacking that noble aura." He opened the car door. "Come on, sir. Hand over the suitcase, I'll put it in the back."
But Đông Anh clutched the suitcase tighter, shaking his head.
"No need, I got it. It's light as a feather."
Dung didn't push it. He just waited for the boy to get in.
Dung drove in silence, secretly sizing the boy up. No trace of mischief, no hint of rebellion. Looked like the rumors were true, this rich kid was squeaky clean, obedient, maybe even devout. If that really was the case, then the "babysitter" fee Dung was offered felt way too generous. If only the brat were more of a pain in the ass, maybe Dung would've taken the deal on the spot.
Or maybe...
Dung eyes drifted toward the black suitcase the boy was still holding protectively.
"Why don't you set that thing down? What's in it, gold bars?"
"Nah, just some personal stuff," Đông Anh replied, finally letting go of the case. Then he asked, "Hey, Mr. Dung Tây, what time is it now?"
"Just call me Dung."
"Wait—your name's not Tây?" (In Vietnamese names, "Tây" is the last word in his nickname, so it sounds like a given name. The boy assumes "Dung" is a middle name and "Tây" is his actual name.)
Dung glanced sideways at Đông Anh, sensing the boy might be teasing him on purpose.
"Dung Tây's just a nickname folks gave me since I work with Westerners a lot."
("Tây" means "Westerner" in Vietnamese.)
"I almost thought you had Western blood or something. You're so pale—like the Westerners we see in town."
"You're just as pale as I am," Dung muttered, eyeing the smooth, fair skin along the boy's neck.
Silence.
"So… why ask me the time, sir? You got somewhere to be?"
"Nah. Just wondering if it's close to noon. The priests warned me, around this time, people from the other side sometimes come out and block the road."
Đông Anh pulled his suitcase closer without realizing it. Dung looked at him, then pointed at a little statue on the dashboard.
"We've got the Virgin Mary watching over us."
"Yeah, but she won't stop bullets, will she?" Đông Anh murmured.
"You messing with me, or are you serious?"
"I'm serious. This road's usually empty, so they sometimes gather around here."
"In broad daylight?"
Đông Anh hesitated.
"I don't know for sure. But if the priests warned me, we'd better be careful."
Dung hadn't planned on overthinking things, but now that it was said out loud, his mind started racing. That mysterious suitcase sitting so innocently nearby only fed his growing unease.
"Sir… if someone from the other side finds that suitcase, what do you think happens to us?" he asked.
Đông Anh instinctively clutched the suitcase to his chest.
"Don't jinx it, please!"
"Damn it," Dung muttered under his breath. "Don't tell me this kid's into underground politics? If we get caught with this, we're screwed."
The midday sun beat down mercilessly on the bright yellow LaDalat, making it visible from a mile away, even to the half-blind.
"Damn it," Dung suddenly slammed the brakes, his eyes darting around in all directions. His gut twisted with a creeping sense of dread.
"What's wrong?" Đông Anh asked.
"You're walking around with a ticking bomb in that suitcase, and you don't even flinch? At least give me a damn heads-up!" Dung hissed, opened the dashboard compartment and pulled out a pistol and stuffed it into his coat's inside pocket."
"Out. We're walking."
"What?"
Ignoring Đông Anh's stunned reaction, Dung slid out of the car in one smooth move.
"But why—" Đông Anh reached out, tugging at Dung's sleeve.
"Let go!" Dung snapped.
"You didn't answer me—"
"Damn it!"
He lunged forward, slapped a hand over Đông Anh's mouth, and yanked him out of the car with force.
"Mmm-c-ase—" Đông Anh mumbled, pointing frantically at the suitcase.
Dung caught the gesture and snatched it up as they moved.
Finally, the two ducked into a thicket by the roadside, crouching low in silence, eyes locked on the tree-lined road ahead.
"Did you see someone?" Đông Anh asked.
"No."
"Then why are we hiding?"
"Are you testing me, sir?" Dung snapped, glaring sideways. "You knew this road was risky. And yet you had me drive a bright yellow car straight through it. What was that—trying to see if I'm good enough to protect you?"
"I…"
"Tell me what's in that suitcase. If you don't give me a straight answer, you're not coming with me."
"There's nothing valuable inside, I swear."
"Then toss it. Leave it here."
"I can't," Đông Anh replied, clutching the suitcase tighter.
"Then good luck with it!"
With that, Dung stood up and walked away. Đông Anh rushed after him, voice rising in panic.
"Mr. Dung, I'm telling the truth! There's nothing dangerous in there. Please, Mr. Dung—"
"Both of you, hands up!"
A third voice rang out—sharp and cold—followed by the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking. Dung cursed under his breath and raised both hands.
"You! Drop the suitcase and put your hands up!"
Đông Anh did as ordered.
"Now walk, both of you, straight ahead. Don't stop unless I say so. You turn around—I shoot."
Keeping their hands in the air, Dung and Đông Anh began to walk. Dry leaves crunched beneath their feet with every step. The farther they moved from the man with the gun, the more convinced Dung became: this wasn't some political arrest, just a plain robbery. And if it was just a robbery... Dung could flip the script—if the timing was right.
Crack.
Someone stepped on a dead branch.
That split-second sound was all the signal Dung needed. He spun around, raised his gun, and fired—hitting the man just as he bent to grab the suitcase. The man howled and dropped.
It should've ended there. But Đông Anh, against all logic, made a beeline for the suitcase, giving the bastard just enough time to reach for his gun again.
Bang!
Dung fired again, straight into his arm. The man howled and toppled backward, kicking up dust as he hit the ground.
"Damn it, are you out of your mind?!"
Dung cursed as he ran toward Đông Anh. On the way, he nudged the robber's pistol toward himself with his foot, then bent down to pick it up and stuffed it into his coat. As for Đông Anh—he wouldn't leave without that suitcase.
Two gunshots were more than enough to alert anyone lurking nearby. Sensing what was coming, Dung grabbed Đông Anh's arm.
"Move! Head for the main road!"
The two young men ran for their lives, heads down, feet pounding the dirt, until they finally burst out of the shaded path. The main road—smooth, cement-paved—unfolded before them.
Đông Anh came to a halt, doubling over, gasping for air. Beside him, Dung wasn't doing much better but he still had enough breath left to blow up.
"Damn it, bury that suitcase! We'll come back for it later!"
"No!" Đông Anh snapped, stubborn as ever.
"Let's see just how much this damn suitcase means to you!"
Spotting a wide lake curving along the road, Dung lunged forward, yanked the suitcase from Đông Anh's hands, and hurled it into the water.
"You—!" Đông Anh glared at him, furious, then, without warning, threw himself into the lake.
"Damn it, you lunatic!" Dung cursed.
He instinctively stepped forward to jump in but his brain slammed the brakes.
"He's not gonna die," Dung muttered. "No need to get myself soaked."
He stood there, watching as Đông Anh thrashed through the water, retrieved the suitcase, and struggled to haul it back to shore. The embankment was high and slick, and Đông Anh had to claw at the ledge just to keep from slipping back down.
After a long pause, Dung finally extended a hand to pull his little boss back onto the road. Soaked through, Đông Anh didn't even pause. As soon as he got back on his feet, he unlatched the suitcase and pulled everything out. Luckily, the water hadn't gotten in—most of the contents were still dry.
"Hey—my hands are wet. Grab these for me!" He called out to Dung.
Dung looked at the two items Đông Anh was pointing to: a Bible and a rosary with a silver crucifix. Aside from that, the suitcase contained nothing more than a white robe for serving mass, some folded clothes, and a bottle of cologne. Frowning, Dung dug through the pile to check if anything was hidden underneath. The bottom lining was damp.
"So where's this big important thing you were talking about, sir?"
"Right here! Quick—take it before it gets wet!" Đông Anh insisted, pointing again at the Bible and rosary.
Dung picked up the two items the boy had pointed to, then shouted:
"You messing with me again? We nearly got ourselves killed over these two damn things?"
"You're the one who insisted we get out and walk. That's when the robber showed up."
"Only because you said the suitcase had something important inside."
"It is important. To someone like me. That Bible was blessed by the Cardinal himself."
"Damn it!"
Dung stared at the items in his hands, anger bubbling to the surface. For a second, he looked like he might hurl them into the dirt. Đông Anh darted forward and yanked them back.
"Don't even think about tossing them. That's sacrilege!"
Unable to throw the sacred items, Dung turned and launched the suitcase itself into the lake.
"You—!"
Ignoring Đông Anh's look of complete disbelief, Dung stormed off. He was sure now, this kid was playing some kind of game.
"You're the one who assumed there was treasure in that suitcase," Đông Anh shouted as he ran after him. "Mr. Dung—wait for me!"
"Right, it was all in my head," Dung sneered. "My dumbass fault for falling for your little act, sir. As if someone from the other side would actually show up in broad daylight to rob us? Why the hell did I believe you?!"
"But they did warn me," Đông Anh insisted, running ahead to block Dung's path. "I swear to God, I didn't lie to you."
Dung stared at Đông Anh's resolute eyes, then down at his pale, trembling lips. His soaked shirt clung to his skin, unintentionally drawing Dung's eyes. But what truly eased Dung's temper was the shiver in the boy's shoulders and those steady eyes that didn't flinch.
"Take it off!"
Startled by the way Dung was staring, Đông Anh shook his head immediately. He hunched over slightly, tugging the fabric away from his torso.
"Take your shirt off and put on my coat."
Still frozen in place, Đông Anh didn't move. Dung snapped:
"Hurry up! I'm getting tired holding it. "Don't tell me you're getting all shy now, like some proper little lady?"
Another blast of wind hit, and Đông Anh finally gave in.
While Đông Anh was quietly figuring out how to fasten the coat—sorting the buttons into place—Dung, without a word, reached toward his chest.
"What are you doing?" Đông Anh grabbed at Dung's wrist.
"Checking you," Dung said with a smirk, letting his hand roam deeper.
"Let go!"
"What's going on in that holy head of yours, sir?" Dung teased. "The inner pocket. I need to grab something."
"You could've just told me. I would've handed it to you."
Đông Anh opened the left side of the coat and reached in, but Dung caught his wrist.
"I said I'd do it." Dung said then he pulled out a pistol—the one he'd taken off the robber earlier. After inspecting it for a moment, he curled his lip and tossed it into the lake.
"Junk."
He looked back at Đông Anh.
"There's another one on the right side."
Đông Anh instinctively stepped back, but Dung moved faster, locking both arms of the boy and diving in again. The contact made Đông Anh's cheeks flush pink.
"Embarrassed?" Dung asked.
Đông Anh bit his lip but said nothing.
"After all the tricks you've pulled on me this morning, don't you think I deserve to tease you a little?"
Dung pulled out the second pistol—the one he'd taken from the dashboard compartment earlier—checked it, then tucked it into the waistband behind his back, pulling the shirt down to cover it.
Đông Anh remained stiff, visibly stunned by the man's shameless behavior.
"Button up, sir. Or do you want me to help you with that too?"
Đông Anh stayed silent, but took a step back from the grabby bastard. This time, Dung wasn't playing anymore. He stepped out into the middle of the road, raising his hand like he was trying to get someone's attention.
"What are you doing?" Đông Anh asked.
"Getting a ride to take our dear little boss home. What else?"
"Aren't you afraid we might flag down a thief? Or someone from the other side again?"
Dung turned his head just enough to grumble:
"You talk just like your sharp-tongued sister."