Three Eight-Chapter 10

Guppping spotted Mu-gyeong and raised his hand in greeting. The first thing that stood out was his noticeably short pinky finger.

“Oh, Boss Mu-gyeong! I brought in a new player. He’s a real gem. This is great, and this? This is killer.”

He waved his hand near his mouth and rubbed his fingertips together in an exaggerated gesture.

“A player?”

“Yeah. Gonna train him here for a while, and when we open a new house, we’ll push him big.”

Whatever kind of gem this was, Guppping was clearly excited. Hongju glanced at Yang Siljang out of the corner of his eye. His expression was even more sour than before. It was obvious he didn’t like this player Guppping had brought in. Yang Siljang always had it out for anyone better than him. He excelled at making their lives miserable, at grinding them down mentally. The uncle he had kicked out not long ago, calling him a whore, had probably suffered the same fate. He had been tall and handsome, raking in all the tips, and that had made him a thorn in Yang Siljang’s side.

“Ahh. Where’d you pick him up? You can just bring someone in like that?”

“From a house run by a guy I used to work with. He just moved up from the countryside not long ago. Hey, Doksal! Get over here!”

Guppping’s voice rang out through the hallway. A loud, eager “Yes!” came from inside.

Doksal? Mu-gyeong repeated the name under his breath a few times, as if rolling it around in his mouth.

“Man, these names. They all sound so cheap.”

With an unmistakable sneer, he shifted his gaze toward Hongju. When their eyes met, he raised his brows slightly, looking for agreement. But Hongju avoided his gaze, keeping his eyes fixed on the end of the hallway. If he kept acting like they were close, Yang Siljang or Guppping would start getting suspicious. Especially Yang Siljang—he was too sharp for that.

“Yes, boss.”

“Come here. Meet the folks at the house.”

“Pleasure to meet you all.”

The guy introduced as Doksal looked to be about Hongju’s age. His sharp, upturned eyes gave him a fierce look, and his arms and neck were wrapped in tattoos.

Guppping continued the introductions.

“And especially this guy, Boss Mu-gyeong, is our benefactor.”

“I see.”

Doksal nodded toward Mu-gyeong. Guppping kept rambling on, clearly high on excitement. He rattled off how much Doksal had won at various houses, how he had played the odds, how he had pulled in big wins. None of it interested Hongju. He sat there like a sack of rice, lost in his own thoughts.

“Hongju?”

“...”

Hearing his name, Hongju’s eyes snapped open.

Somehow, the conversation had wrapped up without him noticing.

Guppping had disappeared into the first room, and Mu-gyeong had stepped away to take a call.

That left just Yang Siljang, Doksal, and Hongju at the desk.

“You took a pretty bad beating.”

“Yes.”

“Did you fight someone, or did you get beaten?”

“Yes.”

Hongju kept giving the same answer, completely out of sync with the conversation. But Doksal wasn’t annoyed. If anything, he found it amusing, letting out a snicker. The more he laughed, the deeper the wrinkles between Yang Siljang’s brows grew.

“Did you put medicine on it?”

“...It’ll heal soon.”

His words were cold and clipped, entirely devoid of social pleasantries. But if Doksal felt awkward, he didn’t show it. He kept trying to make conversation.

As Hongju gave increasingly reluctant answers, Guppping’s voice rang out once more.

“Doksal, we got a spot open. Hand out the cards.”

“Yes, sir.”

Before leaving, Doksal shot one last glance at Hongju.

As soon as he walked away, Yang Siljang leaned in closer.

“Stick to him. Keep an eye on him. I don’t know how much Guppping’s paying him, but something about this guy rubs me the wrong way.”

“...Is he staying at the lodging?”

Lodging, if you could even call it that, was nothing more than a tiny, damp semi-basement room. Hongju shared it with Choi-gun and the thugs. Since Choi-gun and the thugs worked in shifts, they rarely ended up crammed in there together, but it wasn’t unheard of. If another person moved in, it would be suffocating. Hongju could already picture the narrow, barely livable space.

“Looks like it. Keep an eye on him.”

Yang Siljang and Guppping were both thorough when it came to background checks. They might have seemed reckless about hiring, but they always dug deep before letting anyone into their circle. Whether it was the enforcers, Choi-gun, or even Mu-gyeong—the golden goose they worshipped—they knew everything about them.

Even the two employees Mu-gyeong had brought in had been thoroughly vetted.

So why was Doksal still bothering them?

“Did something come up?”

“Nothing concrete. Just a feeling. Where the hell did he come from all of a sudden?”

“...Right.”

Hongju responded, but he had no real intention of keeping watch.

The person he needed to watch wasn’t the new guy—it was Guppping.

There were more unfamiliar faces than usual at the house today. Guppping, convinced it was all thanks to his latest recruit, was in high spirits. Meanwhile, Yang Siljang was grinding his teeth, watching Doksal walk around with pockets stuffed full of tips.

After brooding for a while, Yang Siljang finally declared he’d play a round of Hwatu and disappeared into a room.

With the extra employees, Hongju wasn’t as busy as before. That didn’t mean he was free from running errands for Mu-gyeong.

“Boss Mu-gyeong is calling for you.”

“...”

It was already the third, maybe fourth time. Every time Mu-gyeong called for him, it was always for some meaningless conversation, pointless questions that never led anywhere. Hongju was sure this time would be no different.

As soon as he stepped inside, he saw Mu-gyeong perched on the windowsill, his long legs stretched out, the polished tips of his shoes tilting idly. Hongju glanced at the doorway—no door, wide open. Then, cautiously, he moved toward Mu-gyeong, closing the distance until he was close enough for whispers to be heard.

“Stop talking to me so much. Guppping or Yang Siljang will notice.”

Mu-gyeong only tilted his head slightly at the quiet reprimand. A few strands of hair fell across his forehead, swaying faintly.

“If they do, then I won’t be able to...”

Hongju swallowed the last words. Send messages. He couldn’t bring himself to say it outright.

Mu-gyeong must have understood anyway, because he let out a quiet, knowing laugh.

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And then—Guppping’s voice.

That rough, gravelly tone laced with curses was getting closer. His heavy footsteps echoed through the hall.

Hongju instinctively took a step back, but Mu-gyeong moved first.

A large, bare hand wrapped around his arm and pulled. The movement was light, effortless, yet firm enough that Hongju had no room to resist.

His body was yanked forward, wedging between Mu-gyeong’s spread legs.

Too close.

Startled, Hongju braced his hands against Mu-gyeong’s shoulders, trying to push away, but the grip around his waist was firm. There was no space to retreat.

"You can’t do that," Mu-gyeong murmured. "Not when I take such good care of you."

"Let—let go."

The hands holding him steady slid lower, fingers skimming his hip, brushing over his ass, curling around his thigh.

The footsteps behind them were growing louder.

Hongju swallowed dryly and pushed harder against Mu-gyeong’s shoulders, but—

Instead of backing away, Mu-gyeong leaned in.

Lowered his gaze.

Tilted his head just slightly.

His breath fanned over Hongju’s lips, warm, measured, far too close.

Was this what it felt like to be so overwhelmed that you couldn't even move?

Hongju's eyes stayed locked on the long lashes that swept down over Mu-gyeong’s half-lidded eyes.

"What the fuck is this?"

A voice cut through the tension like a blade.

A heavy, grating voice—Guppping’s.

Hongju snapped out of it and shoved hard.

This time, Mu-gyeong let him go, easing back with a slow, lazy smile.

And then, as if nothing had happened, he turned ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ toward Guppping and said, "Ah, old man, you really have no sense of timing."

Guppping’s gaze flickered between them, sharp, intrusive.

Hongju kept his eyes locked on the floor.

What the hell just happened?

His pulse pounded against his ribs, his skin burning—not unlike the sensation after a beating.

He inhaled sharply, trying to calm himself, but instead, all he caught was Mu-gyeong’s scent lingering at the tip of his nose.

"Ain’t been long, and you two already got the hots for each other?" Guppping scoffed. "Hongju, don’t tell me you already spread your legs? Fuck, at least the boss has good taste."

"You think I’m doing all the work here?" Mu-gyeong said lightly. "Takes two, you know."

He reached out, casually grasping the pocket of Hongju’s worn-out padded jacket and giving it a slight tug.

Then, as if mimicking Guppping’s usual habit, he tapped the inside of Hongju’s thigh.

That was enough.

Hongju’s face twisted, and he jerked away.

"Well, well," Guppping chuckled, slapping a folder onto the table. "Boss Mu-gyeong, you’ve been stopping by pretty often. Guess you had other business in mind?"

But then, his voice took on a mockingly regretful tone. "Too bad you picked the wrong guy. Hongju’s got a high fuckin’ nose. He ain’t gonna spread his legs so easy."

"You can’t fuck someone by yourself. Takes two, remember?"

Hongju's body stiffened.

This again.

Mu-gyeong’s words were playful, his smile easy, but Hongju could feel the weight of his gaze.

It was the same look from earlier—the same piercing amusement as he slowly ran his tongue across his lips.

Guppping barked out a laugh, thick and wet like phlegm clogging his throat. "Shit. If I were Gu Madam, I’d have trained him up as a player."

"Not worth it," Mu-gyeong said dismissively. "No talent with his hands, no charm for clinging onto clients."

"Who the fuck said anything about that?"

Guppping’s gaze slid down Hongju’s body, slow and sticky, like a layer of filth settling over his skin.

Disgusting.

Hongju clenched his jaw so tightly it ached.

"Ha! I’ve had him since he was a kid. Never could bring myself to turn him into one of those, you know? But then again—" Guppping clicked his tongue. "Maybe it’s not too late. What do you think? You wanna buy him, Boss Mu-gyeong? Any interest?"

This bastard.

Always talking smooth, but Hongju knew.

Knew what Guppping looked like with his pants shoved down, breath ragged, grunting out orders.

Knew what it smelled like when Guppping finished.

Knew what it felt like to clean up after.

The memory burned so suddenly in his throat that he had to bite down hard just to keep from gagging.

"Right now?"

Mu-gyeong’s lips curved into something dangerous.

A slow lick of his tongue against his lips.

His eyes—bright, sharp—latched onto Hongju’s.

And then they both laughed.

Guppping, loud and crude. Mu-gyeong, quieter, almost amused.

Hongju didn’t laugh.

He understood now.

Mu-gyeong was playing along.

And Guppping—so damn smug, so entertained—was eating it up.

A heavy arm draped over his shoulders.

Guppping, pretending to be friendly, whispered just loud enough for both of them to hear.

"Don’t go seducing our dear Boss Mu-gyeong if you’re not gonna put out, yeah? Poor guy only cares about money."

Hongju snapped.

He shoved the arm off roughly and turned.

A hand pushed against his lower back, forcing him toward the doorway.

As he stumbled over the threshold, he looked back—

And caught the quick flicker of Mu-gyeong’s eye, a single, fleeting wink.

...Shit.

Would it have been better to just let them be suspicious?

Hongju left the room.

Outside, the conversations had shifted back to business.

At the end of the hall, he sat down at a desk, pressing a hand against the pocket Mu-gyeong had grabbed earlier.

...Something’s in there.

He reached inside and pulled it out.

...Painkillers?

Two loose pills, tucked into his pocket without him noticing. Hongju pressed his palm against his bruised cheek. For a while, he just sat there, rolling the pills in his hand, feeling their weight.

Then, he called over a passing staff member, asked them to cover his spot for a moment, and headed to the nearest convenience store. With what little money he had left, he bought a bottle of water.

He swallowed the pills down with the cold liquid. They would work fast. His body had never built up a resistance to medicine. Tucking the half-empty water bottle into his pocket, he turned and headed back toward the house.