Three Eight-Chapter 34

Mu-gyeong calmly gave instructions the whole ride there. Hongju, dazed, half-listened and half-ignored them. Maybe Mu-gyeong noticed—he suddenly slammed the steering wheel.

"You get that or not?"

The sharp snap of his words made Hongju flinch. He quickly turned his head toward the driver’s seat. But all he could manage was a quick glance at Mu-gyeong’s hand gripping the wheel—he couldn’t meet his eyes.

"...I heard you."

The hesitation in his voice made it obvious he hadn’t been paying attention. A blank, spaced-out face like he wasn’t even there. Looking down at Hongju’s dumb expression, Mu-gyeong let out a scoffing laugh. After all the shit he’d taken from Gu Madam, acting like this over a single kiss was almost funny.

"Just say you went to find the guy who ran off with the investment money. And that you cut off one of his fingers."

"His finger?"

"Was it Gu Madam’s right hand or left that’s missing a finger?"

Even as he spoke such a brutal line, Mu-gyeong gave a slight smile. He actually looked like he was enjoying it. Hongju, trying not to notice Mu-gyeong’s eyes lingering on his lips, gave a quiet answer.

"Right pinky finger."

"Then say you cut off his right pinky. Snip."

He brought his index and middle fingers together like a pair of scissors.

"..."

Hongju nodded slowly. Probably only someone like Mu-gyeong could talk like that and stay so casual.

Mu-gyeong usually led their conversations anyway, but this time the atmosphere felt even heavier. That was because Hongju was visibly uncomfortable, his whole body tense. He stared out the window, focusing on the scenery racing past.

Tap, tap. The faint sound made Hongju blink and cautiously turn his head. Mu-gyeong was snapping his fingers right next to his left ear. He did it again, like he wanted to make a point—but all Hongju felt was the light brush of air against his ear.

"You deaf? I asked how much debt you’ve got left."

"A little over 900 million won now."

Nine hundred million. Hongju mouthed the number silently. The debt that had once seemed so insurmountable was shrinking fast—thanks entirely to the man sitting next to him. Not long ago, the idea of it being cut in half felt impossible. Now, it was within reach.

"Should I let you pick who we collect from today?"

"Pick how?"

For the first time since they’d left the hospital, their eyes properly met. Mu-gyeong leaned forward over the steering wheel. Hongju’s dark eyes slowly tracked the movement. Mu-gyeong pointed straight ahead, toward the eleven o’clock direction.

"That way, it’s 100 million. Go straight to the House, and it’s 50 million."

Hongju tilted his head, following Mu-gyeong’s gesture to the building in question. Big, flashy, familiar—it was the same hotel they’d stayed in not long ago.

He straightened up quickly, pressing his back firmly to the seat.

"Fifty million."

"Haha."

Mu-gyeong let out a loud laugh, his shoulders shaking. The low reverberation reached all the way to Hongju’s ear.

"So you’re not desperate enough to throw yourself in just yet? Still got the brains to play it safe, huh?"

As the light changed, Mu-gyeong stepped hard on the gas. The car surged forward, and Hongju leaned deep into his seat.

"..."

Even after that, Mu-gyeong’s gaze kept drifting toward the side of Hongju’s face. So persistent it made even swallowing and breathing feel unnatural. He wished they’d hurry up and get to the House—blend into the chaos there. But Mu-gyeong drove slowly, looping around quiet neighborhoods with barely any traffic.

"It’s snowing."

Hongju threw it out, hoping to shift the mood, distract him. But Mu-gyeong didn’t seem to care if it snowed or rained.

"And?"

He’d always known Mu-gyeong wasn’t someone you could chat with easily. But the more he saw, the less he understood. In the end, silence filled the car again, awkward and heavy.

They kept circling for so long that Hongju got a good long look at the snow falling outside. It wasn’t until the snow had started piling on the roads that they finally turned down the alley leading to the House. As soon as they got out of the car, a loud noise met them.

"Not one damn quiet day in this place."

Mu-gyeong pulled the gloves from his pocket and slapped them together in his palm. He always wore those gloves in the House—maybe he just hated the cold. Hongju watched the stiff leather stretch over his big hands, then started up the stairs first.

"I heard it myself! I heard the rumors he’s coming back here again! If I catch that bastard, I’m getting every last won of my money back, you hear me?"

"Sir, please calm down—"

"Let go! You hear me? The hell are you putting your filthy hands on me for?"

Right in front of them, a gangster and an older man were wrestling at the end of the hallway. The man, with half his head bald, was visibly out of control. Hongju, shrinking under the man’s furious energy, stayed completely still. Behind him, he could hear Mu-gyeong’s shoes on the stairs.

"You think I wouldn’t hear about some back-alley shithole throwing games again? You motherfuckers think you’re so slick? I used to play too, damn it!"

"Sir—"

"You get lost! I want that bastard Guppping out /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ here! Guppping!"

The man staggered toward a desk, clearly drunk. One of the staff members, sensing trouble, stood up and backed away.

"What, you think I’m filthy? You flinchin’? Huh?"

"Sir, please. If you keep causing a scene, there’s nothing I can do!"

Even with a big gangster standing in front of him, the man wouldn’t back down. Now he started grabbing things from the desk and hurling them.

"Get out here! Guppping, you bastard! You’re the one who sweet-talked me into playing! You’re the reason I lost everything!"

Stuff scattered all over the floor. An unopened pack of Hwa-tu cards landed at Hongju’s feet. As he stepped back in a panic, he bumped right into Mu-gyeong.

"Ah—sorry."

Mu-gyeong kept his eyes lowered, staring at Hongju with unwavering intensity. Hongju, avoiding the suffocating gaze, caught the subtle movement of his lips in the corner of his vision. His own eyes unconsciously fell to them.

"Still think I’m not trying to seduce you?"

The words came in a soft murmur, like a whisper between lovers. That rough, violent kiss suddenly came back to him. Hongju quickly straightened his head and edged away from Mu-gyeong. A quiet chuckle came from beside him.

"Fuck it, let’s all just die, huh? My home’s already gone to shit, and I’ve got no reason to live anyway, fuck!"

A man gripping a huge pair of scissors swung them through the air, eyes gleaming wild. The onlookers who’d come out into the hallway began murmuring nervously. The gangster who’d looked uncomfortable earlier steadied his stance, now watching for an opening.

"Look at all the staff gathered here. There’s that fucker who used to stick to me like a cockroach to collect debt. Just need Guppping to show up and I’ll send all you bastards off together!"

Swish—a flash of metal sliced past, narrowly missing Hongju. He stepped back quickly. The man, thrown off balance by the wide swing, stumbled and turned around. Instinctively, Hongju pressed closer to Mu-gyeong. Maybe it was because of how big he was, but being near him gave a strange sense of relief.

"..."

Mu-gyeong tilted his head slightly, glancing down at Hongju. For a second, their eyes met—then Mu-gyeong stepped forward, blocking Hongju completely. A shadow fell across Hongju’s face as his vision filled with the broad line of Mu-gyeong’s back.

"What, this fucker’s a gangster now? Oh, I get it. You lose money and now you’ve got thugs standing guard so no one complains? That it? Feeding mobsters off the backs of honest people. Fucking fantastic!"

The red-faced man grabbed Mu-gyeong’s collar. He was still clutching those gleaming scissors, making him look even more dangerous. Only then did the gangster further down finally rush over.

"You little shit, don’t even recognize regulars? You better lower those damn eyes."

The man shoved Mu-gyeong hard with both hands, but he didn’t budge. Instead, he calmly looked down and adjusted the collar of his coat.

"What, you got a problem with that?"

The man reached for Mu-gyeong’s collar again—but this time, Mu-gyeong smacked his hand away in one clean motion. The scissors dropped from his hand with a weak clatter.

"You fucker! Did you just hit me, you gangster piece of shit?"

The man screamed, neck veins bulging. Even with his right ear covered, Hongju winced at the volume. The atmosphere had turned deadly in a flash, and Mu-gyeong took a step forward.

"Yeah, sometimes a gangster fuck might hit someone."

Thud, thud. Mu-gyeong’s solid fists slammed down on the man’s bony shoulders. The man stumbled backward, reeling from each strike, and finally collapsed to the floor. Mu-gyeong’s polished shoes tapped against his sneakers.

"Still got a problem?"

"You... fuck..."

The man, now pale, trembled with fury he couldn’t contain. He tried to get up, clearly ready to lunge again—but this time, the gangster tackled and restrained him.

"This guy again? Came back drunk, didn’t he?"

This 𝓬ontent is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

From the side of the room, Guppping poked his head out and finally came running. Only once the man had been subdued did he raise his voice—an utterly ridiculous sight.

"Hey gangster, hold him tight and follow me. The boss you’ve been looking for just showed up. What now, huh?"

"Is this a goddamn gambling house or a gangster nest? You fuckers make me sick!"

Even while being dragged down the stairs, the man shouted so much it made Hongju’s ears ring. The people in the hallway were still murmuring. From afar, Doksu clapped his palms together, ushering the crowd back inside.

"See what booze does to you? Alright, folks, back in you go."

Gradually, the commotion began to die down. Hongju bent down to pick up the things scattered across the floor.

"Hongju-ssi, you’re not hurt, are you?"

He looked up at the long shadow stretched across the floor. Doksu was gazing down at him with concern.

"...Huh?"

"I asked if you’re hurt."

Hongju’s dark eyes quickly flicked toward Mu-gyeong. A few steps away, Mu-gyeong stood with arms crossed, staring straight at him. Luckily, he didn’t seem to be injured.

"...No."

"Hey! Come on, the hands are ready!"

Just as he answered, someone called out for Doksu. He quickly ran inside, and a staff member began organizing the items Hongju had picked up.