Three Eight-Chapter 13

"Let go."

"I'm not asking for more money."

Mu-gyeong scoffed, shaking off Hongju’s grip without hesitation.

"Let go. Serves me right for trusting a cat to guard fish. You forgot you're a card player too."

"I—I wasn’t actually playing! I was just filling in for numbers."

"Oh, really?"

He dusted off his coat like he was shaking off something dirty, then strode over to the chair. Sitting down, he crossed one leg over the other, resting his polished shoe against the floor—spotless, not a speck of dirt on it. A neatly folded handkerchief lay beneath him, keeping even his seat immaculate.

"Yes. So I... I’m different from them."

Hongju clung to his argument like a lifeline. He had to keep this deal alive. There was no way he could get out of the gambling house on his own, but if Mu-gyeong helped, it would be possible. He knew that instinctively.

"I'm sorry for losing focus. I’ll find him—I’ll bring him here right away."

He had to prove he was useful. He had to find Guppping.

"And how do you plan on doing that?"

"I can find him."

Mu-gyeong pulled a cigarette from his suit pocket, lighting it lazily as Hongju kept repeating himself. Smoke curled from between his lips, twisting into the air. In between the wisps came his command.

"Ten minutes. Bring him here."

Mu-gyeong tapped his finger on the floor.

Ten minutes wasn’t enough. Not even close. Especially not for someone who wasn’t picking up his phone.

But Hongju didn’t hesitate. He nodded and bolted out of the room.

Pulling out the phone Yang Siljang had left behind, he dialed Guppping’s number. The call rang endlessly. Just earlier, Yang Siljang had been on the phone, but now even he was nowhere to be seen.

"You seen Guppping?"

"Dunno."

Choi, wide-eyed and clueless, just blinked at him. Useless. Hongju turned away.

First, he had to check if Guppping’s car was still there.

Still no answer. The call went to voicemail again. Hongju cursed under his breath as he took the stairs two at a time.

Then he spotted Yang Siljang.

"Where’s Guppping?"

"Why?"

"Hurry!"

Yang Siljang scowled at him, shifting his arms from his chest to his waist, but Hongju didn’t stop scanning the area. A blue car—there!

Guppping’s car was still parked.

Then where the fuck was he?

The ringtone buzzed uselessly in his ear.

He wasn’t still on the phone with players.

Where the hell was he?

Hongju bit down on his chapped lips.

"The fuck, you lost your mind?"

Yang Siljang stepped forward like he was about to slap him. Hongju ignored it and tried calling again—this time, he dropped a name that would make Yang Siljang listen.

"Mu-gyeong's looking for him."

"......Mu-gyeong?"

That made him pause.

Even Yang Siljang looked rattled.

Hongju glanced down the snowy alleyway. No sign of Guppping anywhere.

He had been going to that new gambling house a lot lately. Maybe he took someone else's car there? But even by car, it was a twenty-minute drive.

"You really don’t know where he is?"

Yang Siljang kept hesitating, dragging out the conversation when Hongju didn’t have the time for it. At this rate, a full minute had already been wasted.

"Mi-jin. He said he was meeting Mi-jin."

Mi-jin. Guppping’s ex.

So he wasn’t at another gambling house.

Hongju’s stomach clenched as the realization hit him.

Without another word, he took off running.

No time to check the clock.

He sprinted to the motel. It was about a five-minute walk, but at this pace, it had to be faster.

Slamming open the door, he rushed to the counter.

"Guppping. He’s here, right?"

The owner barely glanced at him, licking citrus juice off his fingers as he peeled a tangerine.

"Yeah. Rented a room. Why?"

"Which one?"

The man blinked at him.

Hongju’s patience snapped—he stomped his foot against the floor.

"Now. It’s urgent!"

The old man smacked his lips but didn’t answer.

Hongju clenched his fists, already ready to kick open doors at random, when the owner finally sighed.

"Room 202. Second floor. Cough—"

The man barely got out the last syllable before a fit of coughing overtook him.

Hongju didn’t wait.

Bolting up the stairs, he turned right and found the door marked 202.

Bang. Bang.

He pounded his fist against it.

"Guppping, I know you’re in there. Open up."

Bang! Bang! Bang!

His knuckles ached from the force. But there was no time.

"The fuck, you little shit!"

A shout came from inside.

Familiar voice.

Relief flooded through him.

Hongju grabbed the doorknob and rattled it.

"Get out. You need to go to the house."

More knocking.

Then, finally—the door flung open.

Guppping stood there, wrapped in a towel, face red.

"You crazy little fuck, where do you think you are?!"

He raised his hand.

The smack landed hard.

Hongju’s head snapped to the side, but he barely registered the pain.

Because every second wasted here was cutting into the time Mu-gyeong had given him.

"Mu-gyeong’s looking for you."

"......What?"

"You didn’t pick up. He’s looking for you."

"Mu-gyeong?"

Guppping blinked, scratching his head. He was sweating, his damp skin flushed. Hongju barely held back a grimace.

"Ten minutes. He told me to bring you back in ten minutes."

"Now? Ten minutes?"

Guppping hesitated.

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Hongju didn’t.

Grabbing his arm, he pulled.

"Wait, you little fuck."

Guppping yanked back.

"Wait, just—hold on."

He stepped back inside. Hongju couldn’t stand still—he paced, impatient.

Finally, Guppping came out, half-dressed, someone cursing at him from inside the room.

"Shit, what the hell is all this for?!"

"How the hell should I know? He just told me to bring you back."

Guppping let out an aggravated yell.

"Fucking hell, how was I supposed to answer my goddamn phone while I was balls deep?!"

The two of them ran through the snow. Had it been ten minutes? There was no time to feel anxious as they rushed toward the temporary house building.

Hongju, who arrived first, took the lead. As soon as they reached the third floor, the smell of cigarettes hit them first. Next, what came into view was Mu-gyeong, leaning back against the desk with his legs stretched out, exhaling a trail of smoke. He glanced at his wristwatch with a composed expression as he watched Hongju, who was panting heavily.

"You're late, and you came alone?"

"No."

Before Hongju could even finish his answer, Guppping came stumbling up the stairs, gasping for breath. The cigarette in Mu-gyeong’s mouth curled at the corners of his lips in a lazy smirk.

"Mu, Mu-gyeong, boss, you said you were looking for me. What’s, what’s going on? Ah, fuck."

Guppping tried to catch his breath, his wrinkled shirt untucked, the hem flapping loosely against his lower back.

"Where were you, Gu Madam?"

"Well, uh. Just with my lover for a bit."

"Where with your lover?"

"That’s, uh..."

Guppping scratched his head awkwardly, as if embarrassed. His ears seemed to flush red. Maybe sensing enough from his hesitation, Mu-gyeong didn’t press further. Instead, he immediately got to the point.

"Heard you didn’t pay the advance. They’re saying they won’t work starting tomorrow. What are you gonna do about it?"

"Huh? Oh, that— I was gonna pay once the construction was halfway done, but after seeing how they were working... They're refusing? It’s not like I said I wouldn’t pay, these fucking bastards!"

Guppping, instead of looking guilty, snapped back in frustration as he dug through his pockets. But whatever he was looking for wasn’t appearing easily, and his hands grew frantic. He must have left in a hurry without even grabbing his phone.

"They’re backing out. We’ll need to find a new contractor, but I’m not sure if we’ll find one. That spot already has a bad reputation for being dangerous, and with your shitty name, no one’s willing to take it on."

Hongju sensed a subtle shift in Mu-gyeong’s demeanor. A sharp glint flashed in his eyes as he turned toward Guppping.

"Ah, that’s..."

"What the hell are you doing acting just as trashy as the gamblers and thugs you surround yourself with?"

Mu-gyeong narrowed his eyes in feigned pity. Guppping opened his mouth as if to protest but couldn’t find the words.

Yang Siljang, who had just returned from the restroom, shook the moisture from his hands as he stepped into the room. Noticing the suddenly cold atmosphere, he cast a brief glance at Hongju with his one eye. But Hongju quietly averted his gaze.

"You gonna call those fuckers up and do what? Beat them until they work? You didn’t even pay them. And look who’s talking about business ethics. Who’s the real fucking bastard here?"

Mu-gyeong continued to push Guppping into a corner. His words were crude, but spoken in such a smooth, controlled voice that they almost sounded poetic. A thin wisp of unswallowed smoke drifted through his parted lips.

"I told you to use the investment money for the construction payment. And you’re out here fucking around instead."

"N-no, that’s not it, Mu-gyeong, boss—!"

Mu-gyeong lowered his feet to the ground, standing properly now. Through the lingering smoke, his voice cut sharp and cold.

"I told you to keep things quiet. Did my words go in one ear and out the other?"

"......"

"If this is how you do things, we can’t work together."

At that, Guppping flinched violently, as if struck. Hongju had never seen him this desperate before.

"Wait! Just hear me out!"

They had already moved everything from the old gambling house to this place, brought in new players, and now had to cover the rent for this temporary location. The amount of money needed was massive. If Mu-gyeong withdrew his investment, the entire burden would fall on Guppping alone. His face went pale as he hurriedly spat out words.

"I’ll fix it. First thing in the morning, I’ll send all the workers back to the site. Okay? I’ll sort out the payments and call you— it won’t take long!"

Not waiting for an answer, he bolted down the stairs. Mu-gyeong shifted his gaze toward Yang Siljang, who was standing silently.

"What do you think? Should I trust him just because he says so?"

"Haha... Guppping may be a mess, but when it comes to fixing things, he gets them done."

Yang Siljang let out a strained laugh, his upper lip trembling slightly, revealing a flash of gold teeth.

"Who was it earlier asking for a loan?"

Muttering to himself, Yang Siljang wandered off toward the hallway.

Now, only Mu-gyeong and Hongju remained.

Mu-gyeong gestured with the cigarette in his hand, a lazy flick of his fingers. A signal to come closer. Hongju hesitated before stepping forward. As Mu-gyeong took the filter between his lips, his other hand reached for the zipper of Hongju’s padded jacket.

Caught off guard, Hongju instinctively stiffened.

"Why, why?"

Was he taking back the phone he’d given him to use? Was he calling off their deal? Hongju clutched the jacket tightly, as if holding onto something irreplaceable.

But there was no way he could overpower Mu-gyeong. The man easily pushed the thin jacket off his shoulders, then went straight for the ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) flimsy shirt beneath. Hongju’s eyes widened as he struggled against the touch. This time, his resistance was much more forceful.

"Hh—"

Mu-gyeong inhaled through his cigarette, exhaling slowly as he looked down with cold, hooded eyes.

Hongju shuddered as he let out a trembling breath.

In that brief moment of hesitation, Mu-gyeong unfastened a few buttons of his shirt. The gloves on his hands made the movements rougher, almost as if he were ripping it open. With firm fingers, he pulled the fabric apart and inspected his neck thoroughly.

Then, he bent down, lowering himself to examine Hongju’s exposed chest with unsettling precision.

"You didn’t do it."

Hongju was practically being held by the collar, forced onto his toes, his entire body trembling. The cigarette between Mu-gyeong’s lips hovered dangerously close to his collarbone, making it impossible for Hongju to even swallow properly.