Three Eight-Chapter 23

"Why the hell does it feel like a funeral in here? You were all running your mouths just fine earlier. What, cat got your tongues now?"

"......."

Mu-gyeong, resting his elbow on the table, shifted his gaze between Guppping and Yang Siljang. The two men, their faces drained of color, sat frozen with their lips tightly pressed together. Mu-gyeong lazily tapped the ashes from his cigarette onto the table.

"So how exactly are you planning to pay up? Gonna borrow from Gu Madam?"

"We'll... we'll pay. Who said we wouldn’t? The house money might not be enough, though...."

Yang Siljang, now practically groveling, muttered in a pitiful voice. Mu-gyeong narrowed his eyes. His brows twitched slightly, deepening the crease above his single eyelid.

"So?"

"We only started this for fun... we had no idea you'd hit so big. Guppping, do we have enough cash to cover it?"

Yang Siljang turned to the still-stunned Guppping, snapping him out of his daze. The man ran a hand through his hair, taking deep, steadying breaths.

"Cash... cash..."

Hongju’s gaze dropped to the two June cards scattered on the table. This time, they won’t pin it on me, will they? He didn’t care about the money—he’d never considered it his to begin with. But the thought of what would come after Mu-gyeong left—the blame, the accusations, the retaliation—made his heartbeat quicken. I didn’t touch the deck. I really had nothing to do with this. The taste of iron spread through his mouth as he bit down on his lip too hard.

"Well, knowing your situation, I’d feel bad about being too harsh."

Mu-gyeong clicked his tongue and took a long drag from his cigarette. Guppping’s eyes flashed, sensing an opening.

"Right! It’s not like I can just ignore something my staff got caught up in. Wouldn’t be right, as the boss."

Guppping took a step closer to the table, shifting into full damage-control mode.

"It’s not like these guys are sitting on millions. I could loan them the money, but you know how it is—I’ve been sinking cash into construction. Liquidity’s tight right now. If I hand over everything, we’d have to shut down for a few days...."

"Not ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) my problem. I was considering giving you some time, but why are you already crying about it?"

"No, no! I’m saying, give me time, and I’ll make sure you get paid back in full. I’m not trying to weasel out of it."

It was obvious he was stalling. Guppping had no intention of paying anything right away. If Mu-gyeong left without settling it today, he’d either keep delaying or try to find another way out of it.

"What should I do, then?"

Mu-gyeong drummed his fingers on the table, cigarette balanced between them. Guppping and Yang Siljang swallowed hard, their nervous gulps loud enough that even Hongju could hear.

"I’ve heard you should always settle money matters cleanly with gamblers. Should we draft up an IOU?"

"You’re acting real cold, considering we’re all in this together!"

The mere mention of an IOU made Yang Siljang practically jump out of his chair. His complexion had gone completely gray, his greasy face looking sickly pale.

Hongju knew exactly what he was feeling right now. It was a feeling he himself had learned too young, too deep. So far buried that he was almost grateful he couldn’t fully recall it anymore.

"Fine. I’ll give you time. But put something up as collateral."

"C-collateral?"

Mu-gyeong nodded and took another slow drag. His narrowed gaze settled on Guppping’s pinky finger. Guppping, turning ghost-white, instantly clenched his fist and tucked his hand behind his back.

"Who said I wanted a finger?"

Mu-gyeong let out a dry chuckle. A curl of smoke slipped from his lips.

"I’ll take him."

"...Hongju?"

The moment his name was spoken, Hongju’s head snapped up. Through the haze of smoke, Mu-gyeong’s piercing gaze locked onto him. How long has he been looking at me? A strange tightness formed in his chest.

"Or would you rather put up a finger? Or maybe, Yang Siljang’s remaining eye?"

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"Haha, no need to get all dramatic! But, uh... what do you even need Hongju for?"

Guppping feigned a casual tone, but his unease was clear. He sounded worried that Mu-gyeong might put Hongju to work again, sending him back out to collect debts like last time.

"I’ll find a use for him. He handles cards better than I expected."

Mu-gyeong stubbed out his cigarette on the nearest hwatu card—the June peony, the symbol of Cheongdan. A dark smear of ash stained the printed letters. His lips, slightly parted from the lingering smoke, curled into a lopsided smirk.

"I’ll hold onto the collateral until I get the rest."

Mu-gyeong grabbed the small bag lying at Yang Siljang’s feet and swung it onto the table. Then, he casually stuffed the massive stacks of cash inside. The zipper struggled to close over the thick wads of bills, snagging midway. Not bothering to fix it, he simply looped the handle around his wrist and stood up.

"Come."

He tapped Hongju’s shoulder lightly. Though it was an order, Hongju remained frozen in place. Three pairs of eyes bore into him, seething with anger. Guppping, in particular, was glaring so hard he was practically gnawing on his bottom lip.

He’s always looked at me like that. Maybe that’s why his body responded on its own, tensing up like it had been conditioned to do so.

"You just gonna sit there?"

A large hand reached out from behind him. The back of Mu-gyeong’s hand, the veins starkly visible, smacked Hongju’s cheek with a sharp tap. The lashes of his long, trembling eyes fluttered at the unexpected contact.

"The collateral’s not moving."

The tone was casual, but Hongju knew better. He recognized the annoyance laced in that voice. It was the same tone Mu-gyeong had used the last time he’d been displeased—when Hongju had failed to keep a proper watch on Guppping.

Three men glaring at him from the front. A cold, commanding voice pressing from behind.

There wasn’t a single person here willing to wait for him.

"Whose orders do you think you should be following right now?"

The voice at his back was suffocatingly authoritative.

"......."

Hongju knew exactly what this was. This wasn’t a useless two-point hand. This was Il-sam-gwang-tteng—the kind of hand you couldn’t just ignore.

Drk...

The chair scraped against the floor as he slowly stood. The deadly gazes around him followed his every movement. He stepped away from the table, stopping beside Mu-gyeong. The man, silent for a few moments, gazed down at Hongju before turning abruptly, coat flaring behind him as he strode off.

Behind them, the tension hung thick in the air. Mu-gyeong walked in silence for a while, then, as if remembering something, suddenly stopped.

"Ah, Gu Madam."

He turned back with a lazy pivot and grabbed Hongju’s shoulder, yanking him forward. His body lurched, and before he could regain his balance, he was pulled into Mu-gyeong’s solid chest. A sharp scent of expensive cologne washed over him, making him instinctively hold his breath.

"This isn’t a deal."

A deal. There were plenty of "deals" between Guppping and Mu-gyeong. But if he was involved, there was only one thing Mu-gyeong could be referring to.

They had haggled over him before. He still remembered hiding behind a collapsing stairwell, listening to them negotiate his price.

"......."

The fragrance that had once seemed refined now tasted bitter in his nose.

As dawn approached, the gambling house filled with more and more customers. The narrow hallways were packed, and Hongju passed by several regulars, brushing shoulders along the way. At one point, Mu-gyeong collided with someone, nearly causing a scuffle—but the moment the man met Mu-gyeong’s gaze, he shut his mouth and scurried off.

"You people have homes, don’t you? Why the hell do you insist on gambling in this filthy dump?"

Hongju glanced up intermittently, watching his lips move. The house was noisy tonight, making it harder to catch his words.

Mu-gyeong must have felt the weight of his gaze, because as they reached the stairs, he looked down at him. Seeing Hongju watching his mouth so intently, he smirked.

"What, so eager to be sold off?"

"......What?"

Hongju heard something, but shouting from inside the house drowned it out. He squinted, wetting his lips, trying to focus.

But instead of repeating himself, Mu-gyeong picked up the pace. Hongju stumbled, practically tripping over his own feet to keep up. He had to plant his toes firmly on the steps to avoid falling forward.

The farther they descended, the quieter it became.

Now, the only sounds left were the sharp clicks of Mu-gyeong’s dress shoes and the hesitant scrape of Hongju’s sneakers following behind.

"Cleared your debt, kept you from getting beat down."

Before Hongju could even ask what he meant, Mu-gyeong continued.

"Even willing to fuck you myself. You really hit the jackpot with me."

"......What the hell are you saying."

Hongju’s body tensed as he fully processed those words. He struggled, jerking his shoulder back, but Mu-gyeong’s grip only tightened.

"What do you think? I’m telling you to get in the car."

Mu-gyeong jerked his chin toward the sleek black vehicle parked by the entrance.

Hongju swallowed dryly.

He had said fuck just now. Was that really why he was taking him?

No, no—it didn’t make sense.

Mu-gyeong was terrifying and violent, sure, but he had never—never—come at him like this before.

Still. The way he said it. Like it wasn’t even a question.

Hongju bit the inside of his swollen cheek, grinding down hard enough to distract from the panic creeping in.

Mu-gyeong tossed the bag of money into the backseat and then opened the passenger door.

"You weren’t interested in this."

Hongju forced the words out, standing firm in front of the open door. The cold wind of dawn bit into his skin.

"You just needed me to do as I was told. Not this—not this kind of thing."

Mu-gyeong leaned his weight onto one leg, tilting his head slightly. He looked sharper like this, disheveled in a way that made him seem less like some high-class businessman and more like a gangster.

"Yeah. You’re supposed to just do as you’re told."

Hongju pressed on, desperate to get something—anything—out of him.

"I sent the texts, I kept watch, I answered all your questions. I even warned you about the rigged bets. Why—"

"Then why the fuck aren’t you following this order?"

Hongju snapped his mouth shut.

Technically, this was an order too.

"People gain interest. Lose interest. Happens all the time."

"......."

"You’re the same. Didn’t you say you weren’t watching me? But then you threw yourself in front of my car, wailing, ‘Please don’t come, I’m begging you!’"

Mu-gyeong dragged out the last part mockingly, pitching his voice into a whiny mimicry of Hongju’s desperation. His brow lifted slightly, as if daring him to argue.

"Or am I wrong?"

"That was—for you—"

Hongju stammered, but before he could explain, Mu-gyeong’s foot slammed down hard on the pavement.

The sharp thud shut him up instantly.

That was the sound of patience running out.

"Enough talking. Get in."

His large hand came down on the back of Hongju’s head, shoving him forward.

With no room to resist, he was forced into the passenger seat, and the door slammed shut behind him.